#welcome to what its like living in my brain. that it took SO LONG to turn this request. into this

[miss-tarja]

Hojōjutsu

Art by mag_bya on X ❤️

Ninja! Miguel O’Hara x Ninja! Reader.

Another for the Miguelverse ✨

WARNINGS: MINORS DON'T INTERACT. Dom/Sub dynamic, Smut, fingering, Oral (F! Receiving) Unprotected p in v, use of bdsm equipment, mentions of Kinbaku poses (Or bondage), mentions of Japanese terms, bratting, ninja activities, espionage, spanking. Rimming (F! Receiving).

A/N: Was going through my photography essays and found a lovely photo shoot I did back then 🤭, then had that fanart sitting on my gallery for too long, untouched. And I might be ovulating so... yeah. Merely indulging myself here jsksk. Hope you like! Feedback and reblogs are always welcome c:

Word count: 7505.

PD: The Hojojutsu is a Japanese martial art used ever since Edo period, used to immobilize prisoners. Due the lack of iron to create tools such as handcuffs, the police back then had to make use of ropes. Still is a practice used in modern days as part of the Japanese police training ~ ✨ It was the main inspiration for the Kinbaku (Erotic tying) that came later in the same period ❤️.

Frantic steps ran through the overcrowded grass field, dodging and zig zagging left and right, until a foot turned on its heels to the right once more in a stupid attempt to lose him and keep himself alive a little longer.

The young man knew what the task of being a messenger ensued, the dangers he'd face ahead on the treacherous path he'd chosen. But never in his short life he'd think he'd encounter danger this early on his very first mission. 

The young man's panting increased, like the fear devouring all coherent thoughts inside his panicking brain, begging to keep on running, to keep himself away from the silent steps behind him, preying, approaching him with a deathly and stealthy pace and a single goal in mind. 

The scroll.

Not only it contained compromising information about some powerful lords in the underworld, but names of those that weave their webs behind Underground New York's imperious daily activities. 

The powerful, the self proclaimed gods among mortals, that looked down upon those beneath them. Lords or modern daimyos (Feudal lords), as they called themselves, strategically distributed in seven sectors through the living contradiction the city was. 

A blur of red made the courier's eyes nearly pop out of their socket as it hovered over him. The young and naive man knew running was as futile as sending a signal of help in an open field. He also knew running would just delay the eventual end awaiting with open arms his way. When the courier turned, all that his horrorized eyes could do was widen as open as they could, his mouth gaped, like a fish out of water but no scream for pity or sound came out of it; while the moving blur stopped right in front of him, in the shape of a man.

Someone he was often warned by his mentors, the survivors of his prowess, stood tall and  proud before his very eyes. None other but The Spider-man was his chaser and executor. Red, blue and a flash of white by the elongated fangs dashing, was all the courier saw before a powerful sting erupted from the side of his neck, spreading a burning numbness through his limbs, like a disease. Stilling and subduing each movement of his muscles effortlessly.

The flesh skeleton he had for a body twitched painfully, the soft coppery smell tickled his nose along the faint scent of gunpowder flooding each breath.The gloved hands held him still as the bite deepened. It all had happened so quickly, yet the beating of his heart slowed down, menacing to stop at any second. The burning within was too overwhelming for his brain to register. 

A bite. It all took a bite from the colorful blur to end it all. Not that the courier’s chase had been exhausting, if anything it all meant a mere game he had lost even before starting. The scroll fell off its secure grip on the ground, like him and his soon to be lifeless body. Unable to tear his gaze from the… creature standing before him. A glint of beady red eyes watched him, with a satisfied smirk on his face before disappearing within the blink of an eye into the night. 

Despite the city's futuristic layout, many lived simple and rustic lives, after all, the social barrier was ever present among the denizens of the upper terrains.

Old and new walked hand in hand, carrying the hefty weight of a constantly evolving dystopia. Even though technology oozed in the upper echelons of the city, the most basic and borderline rudimentary ways of life thrived in the subworld. Another reality, some said. 

While the top was beautifully constructed with skyscrapers that scratched the sky and beyond, the sublevels of the city still used technology deemed ancient. Manual labour, handwritten letters, artisanal constructions among others that could be found only in history records. Many used it as a getaway from the overwhelming and speedy pace the upper city kept, others, too stubborn to embrace the change to be part of it, but for a certain powerful group, it was the perfect ambience for criminal activities off the radar. 

It was no secret that Underground Nueva York was controlled by six individuals that always made their word an ominous promise and the underworld they remained hidden, their playground. Old ways of intel gathering were brought to the table, and old arts of espionage once again resurfaced, leaving the good and the bad to clash in a never ending fight for justice and interests alike.

You often wondered what was the real cause they fought for. Money? Maybe. Power? Definitely. Men loved to show off their power, even in the most subtlest of things. Especially one, your boss. The one and only and true mastermind behind the other daimyos agendas, Tyler Stone. 

The man had requested your presence right after you had finished another mission. Infiltration and a little else were your speciality, eventually they both helped you to get the right amount of recognition to put your name out there, earning yourself a good spot as Tyler’s best spy. 

“You called?” Your voice echoed behind him, as Tyler read the many scrolls full with intel from his uptown allies. Scrolls were untraceable, unlike an email. 

“Your new mission just arrived, Shadow.” His favorite nickname for you, despite your initial mockery for it. “You see, one of Osborn’s agents was supposed to deliver us some information. He never showed up. My scroll is missing and as you might know, if there’s something that grinds my gears is to have my intel in pieces” He sighed, opening the next scroll in line. “You know I’m a complete picture sort of man. So bring it to me. Will you, dear?.”

“Anything else?” 

“For you to be careful.” 

A tinge of wariness raised in the back of your mind. It was rare when Tyler, out of everyone, warned you, and the times he did it meant only one thing. A formidable enemy awaited. 

“Careful?” You repeated, almost incredulous. 

“Yes, my dear Shadow. Careful. Whoever is dispatching our agents, is quick, efficient and dangerous.”

So am I

“Is there any pattern?” 

“That’s the thing. Whatever this…creature is, leaves a single thing in the bodies. A signature of sorts.” 

Tyler handed you a couple of pictures, all of them showed something in common. The lurid silhouette of a man’s bite, nesting too comfortably in the right side of the victims’ necks. Two deep and parallel punctures stood out the most for you, located right in the jugular as an ambar liquid oozed from them.  

Creature. It suited the description beyond perfection. The bite reminded you of those fantasy beings you used to read about in your spare time, but with science and progress living above your head, the idea of whoever or rather whatever doing this wasn’t as crazy as it sounded. You had seen your fair share of strange things and mutants. One that loved to bite wouldn’t spook you out. 

Without anything more deemed substantial to know, you disappeared. Ready to search and retrieve. 

The first two districts had been empty of what you needed. Their people either knew how to hide a good secret, or they were too oblivious as to what had happened with the missing courier. Some thermal water attendees commented briefly on it, but nothing good enough to make it a lead. 

Then you infiltrated into an inn, as a masseuse, after tracking one of Osborn’s soldiers. The man turned out to be nothing else but his right hand, and if there was something all the lackeys from the daimyos’ shared, it was their loose mouth. 

“-Next thing I know is that he’s gone. Poor kid. It was his first day and he got the bite.” The soldier huffed as you moved your oiled up hands among the layers of skin and bumps, earning a gurgling and approving moan from him. 

“See? This is what I call VIP service.” He mumbled, too lost into the relaxation invading him, like the other soldier accompanying him. Another girl worked his neck and back. 

“So, that kid, Ricky’s dead then?” The other soldier asked, contemplating. 

“Seems so. That… Spider creature is scaring my men shitless. But when I catch him? I swear… he'll pay. I liked Ricky. Was young and stupid, but was a good soldier.”

A him? Spider creature?

Your ears perked ever subtly as you listened and massaged the man's shoulder diligently, while your brain connected two and two. You were on the right track. 

“Osborn wants him dead.”

“Like everyone.” His companion chuckled, “He's been messing us up for too long. Even Tyler is looking up for that Spider guy.”

Osborn’s right hand gave a low whistle.

“Yeah. That means we stay out of his way and let him handle it all. If he fails, hope not, we'll be screwed. None wants to be a messenger now, because of that arachnid son of a bitch.” 

“Ah, c’mon, it can't be that hard to get him! Just round up some other shinobis and we'll settle a trap for him.”

“That's the thing, dumbass… It's not only him.”

After long days of discreet and low profile searches, you finally managed to not only make a solid lead, revealing more of this phantom-like character to you and those brave or stupid enough to dig past the surface about him. 

You found out that what killed the young man was a severe allergic reaction to a toxin located in some spiders you had heard were used in the upper city labs of Alchemax. The arachnid creature was more a fact than a hypothesis now. 

And although you had to pay a visit to the upper dystopia to get more information, it all eventually led you back underground. More specifically to the Takuya district. Or colloquially known as “The Spider” sector. Rumors about a secret army being trained under the command of a man were often encountered in your research. And no matter how much Tyler’s minions tortured the captured enemy’s spies, none sang. 

Some rather die, others bite their tongue off. None dared to say a word, nor a peep. Until one did, giving you a name in hopes for you to stop the pain consuming him. 

Miguel O’Hara. 

The very same ghost that owned the residency before you. The very same creature that from time to time, meaning almost on rare occasions, allowed himself to be a regular man and spent the night with some high end courtesan. 

Thanks to your connections, you managed to swap with the assigned woman for the task. The madam couldn't make enough emphasis to not be bold or rude or else you'd never work for them again, as he had complained about the last woman they sent. 

“Don't look him in the eye if he doesn't allow you to.” “Don't speak unless you’re asked to.” “Don't-”

Will I get to breathe though? 

The sudden thought was too tempting to be kept in your red tainted mouth, but common sense prevailed and you remained shut. 

One thing you always found curious was the clothing people wore in this side of the underground city. Yukatas, kimonos, obis, so many traditional clothing you had seen back in the museum records. Even the security guards wore the signature red and blue uniforms you had seen since entering some parts of the district. All wearing a spider symbol in their chest or backs. 

Once ready, you were allowed in, and soon were guided to the assigned room. The house, or rather manor, was as impressive inside as it was from the outside. Your eyes were already taking mental notes, how many hallways, how many doors, people and soldiers, and of course, how many weapons each carried. Security was alarming, meaning the scroll was somewhere within.

The heavy steps from outside, snapped you out of your thoughts, and when the door slid open, your breath stuck in your throat. 

Not only was he the tallest man you had ever seen, but the most serious. Sharp features adorned his strong jaw, the red irises were too strange and pretty to ignore, especially when they raked you up and down, causing a chill to tickle your skin alive while you bowed. Somehow you could understand a bit more on why people feared him. 

“You're early.” He noted, closing the door behind you both. The people behind the thin walls left, conceding privacy to you both.

By his damp hair you could tell he was fresh out of a bath. Wearing a burgundy and blue colored yukata contrasting with his luscious cinnamon skin. Dark chestnut and shiny locks perfectly slicked back, almost too elegant. But his eyes were the ones that did the trick for you. Bright red and dangerous. Staring right into your soul.

“Madam Odai refuses to get another complaint from our best client, so she sent me earlier to give you extra time as a compensation, sir.”

His head tilted slightly as his eyes refused to leave you, an appreciative hum left him. 

“On your feet. Face the wall.” He instructed right on.

Your brow quivered at his sudden order, but obeyed. Once again your breath caught when the sudden sensation of warmth irradiating from his body pressed against your back. Big hands palmed up and down your sides, squeezing briefly any portion of space his hands reached. 

Straight to business, huh?

His hot breath tickled your neck as his hands took a good and proper feel of you, your breast, waist, hips. He hummed pleased, when he found the obi around your waist, and with an impromptu twist, you faced him as the belt fell at your feet. Like the first layer of your robes. 

“Haven’t seen you before.” He huffed, his eyes too focused on whatever piece of your exposed skin, as if looking for something.

Your cheeks couldn't help but flush lightly at the sudden pace his hands worked. But a gasp came out of your mouth when his body pushed you against the wall, and with a swift motion of his hands, he peeled off layers and layers, until nothing but a fine linen robe separating your nakedness from his scrutiny remained. 

“I-Is there something wrong, sir?” 

Although your voice came out laced with innocence and curiosity, confusion crossed Miguel’s eyes for a moment. There were no weapons on you, which earned him a low growl. He was sure he'd find something, anything, tiny as it was. But there was nothing. 

Yet. 

His eyes smothered you, like blazing and gorgeous fire stones ready to scorch you alive, following every breath you did. He didn’t trust anyone, not even his own shadow.

“Hands above your head.” 

You obeyed, with a subtle and playful bat of your lashes. The sleeves of your linen dropped back, exposing your now naked arms. His eyes followed every trace of your bare skin, stopping at your partially open lips for a second longer.

“Are you looking for something, sir?”

“Quiet.” He held with a single hand both of your wrists, pinning you down on the spot. Earning you a ticklish giggle when his brows furrowed deeper. “I would’ve been informed if a new girl showed up.”

“I work in another district. Madam Odai requested my help, her girls were busy for the night. She didn’t want to let you down.”

His hands pulled you closer to him, only to flip you and press your face against the wall with your hands behind your back, his grip tightened, you noted. A tingle ran down your spine, pooling down in the very pit of your abdomen. Your hips arched in his direction, bumping ever softly against his. 

Ironic as it was, playing in the handsome face of danger was your best card, but deep in the back of your mind, Tyler’s warning rang loud and clear. To be careful. He was no ordinary man after all.

“...Sir?” 

Miguel huffed, almost too amused your charade was still up. For how long though? So far you seemed confused at best by his behavior, you weren’t panicking nor complaining. A big red flag on your end. Other women struggled, over-explained themselves or cried initially, and he always made sure to reward their endurance to the frighten, and here you were, calm and collected as if expecting his next move.

“You never told me the district you came from.” His breath tickled your cheek.

“Well, you never asked.”

“Ha, funny aren’t you?” He pressed tighter, pulling a tiny whimper from your lips. “Where?”

“D-District four.” you gasped. And the hairs of your nape stood. “Your grip is hurting me, sir.”

“Four?” He chuckled and your alarms flared. “And you say Odai sent you?” 

“Is this a routine of yours I wasn't told of?” 

“You see… If there’s something Odai hates is sloppy jobs” He turned you once again, his hot breath fanning your face as he hovered over you, his hand easily maneuvered your arms above your head, pinning you once again. “And district four. Now, let’s try again before my patience runs out. Who. Sent. You?” 

“I told you already! Madam Odai did!.” 

He squeezed your wrist tighter as a warning, yet no bigger reaction than a glower crossed your features. His other hand pulled your chin up, making your eyes meet his, the scowl on his handsome face revealed just enough for you to see the tip of his elongated fangs peeking out. 

He was the creature. The Spider. The ghost stalking your agents, and everyone deemed a threat towards his interests. 

“Are you sure you wanna play that way, pequeña? Cause let me tell you, If we'll play, it'll be on my terms.” His voice turned an octave lower, hissing on your ear, slamming you hard enough against the wall to get his point across. “And I don't play gently.” 

“I’m sure Madam Odai won’t like hearing you’ve been terrorizing her employees-”

The slam was enough for you to growl. The confused courtesan mask slowly cracked before him.

“How convenient for her to send a new employee when I precisely requested her to not send any other girls here.” A smirk stretched in his plump lips, “But I do appreciate her collaboration in handing me over stupid people like you that think they have a chance.”

Your eyes widened for a moment, earning a satisfied huff from him. 

That old hag…

Odai had delivered you right into his palm, like a butterfly purposely placed in the sticky webs of a hungry spider. A sacrifice for her own and her business protection. A normalized practice within the underworld.

“Are you gonna kill me?” Your eyes followed him with the same intensity he scrutinized you.

“Depends. What are you here for?”

“To please someone. But, guess I'm not his type. A shame really.” 

His eyes narrowed. “Your time runs out, corazón. Like my patience, so you better speak.” 

“I don't feel like it, actually. Not a good talker when I'm cornered.” The little smirk in your lips was enough for his eyelid to twitch.

“Enough!” He growled, squeezing your wrist tighter, earning a wriggle from you. “Give me names, now. I don't have time for this.” 

“Neither do I.” You hissed back and sunk your knee in his side with a powerful kick, pushing all air out of his lungs and weakening his grip on your wrists as he staggered back. All pretense gone, leaving your true colors before him. 

“You'll pay for that.” He hissed 

“You'll hit a woman? How shameful of you.”

With a sweep of his feet on your ankles, your balance was compromised by losing your footing as you stepped into the discarded silky robes. His hand grabbed a handful of your front robe and pulled you towards him, his angry and gorgeous face inches away from yours. 

“It's self defense when you attack me first, bonita.” He growled, dodging and pushing you against the wall with the sole intention of disorienting you, specially with a sudden body slam he did. But you were persistent.

A flurry of kicks and punches moved his way, but he easily dodged, learning your fighting pattern, analyzing your every move. Proficient, effective, lethal and graceful, like a proper kunoichi (female ninja) trained from a young age. Until he seized the chance and grabbed your ankle, pulling upwards, lifting you effortlessly with enough strength to make you yelp, surprised at the sheer display of power, but also making your robe to rile up even further. 

“Put me down, asshole!” Your hands tried to reach for the railing hems of your robe and his face, to no avail. 

“Como desees, corazón.” (As you wish, sweetheart)

Not only did he put you down by letting your body fall with a loud thud on the ground. But pounced on you before you could scramble on your feet and dash towards the door. 

You threw a blind punch with your elbow, earning an amused chuckle from him as he caught it mid air.

“My, my. For being a little thing you sure do put up a fight, I’ll give you that.” He mumbled cockily while restraining both of your arms behind your back and held them on the spot by pressing his knee on them. All while he retrieved a white long rope from a nearby compartment on the floor. “Now be a good girl and stay still.”

Your eyes frowned when his fingers placed the rope around your neck. And just when you thought his fingers couldn’t work faster, there he was, twisting the rope behind your underarms to create a lubber’s knot and restrain your arms behind your back. Leaving zero chances for them to move. And if it wasn’t enough for him, he finished the tie with the ropes caging your breast above your chest and underneath them, perfectly secured in a box tie.

With a pull, he easily lifted you from the ground, the rope around your neck tightened enough to cut off your air intake briefly, earning him a gasp. Your feet clumsily stood, with Bambi-like steps, but a squeal, easily mistaken for a moan, left you as his face found the right side of your neck and sank his fangs in the tender skin, right above your pulsating spot and pulled you closer to his chest while at it. 

The sting was something you hadn’t felt before. Unlike the courier, a soft buzz spread through your limbs, heightening every receptor in your pores and skin. Increasing your body temperature with a pleasant scorch that slowly traveled through your chest, hardening your nipples, to finally fall deep in the pit of your fluttering stomach.

Your eyes nearly rolled back when he pulled his fangs out, licking the amber droplets of his poison, off your now trembling skin in the way.

“We’ve already played your games.” He pushed you to walk out of the room. “I think it’s time to play mine.” 

The cold splashes of water doused your heated skin, awakening from your sudden slumber. When did you fall unconscious? You didn’t know. All you remembered was him biting you, your body burning and him leading you somewhere. 

“Rise and shine, sunshine.” He mumbled while splashing another bucket of ice cold water on your face. 

Your groggy eyes fought for a moment to focus, the water droplets blurred your sight, yet you could still see the blue and red blur pacing back and forth before you. Your head hung, too heavy to keep it up, yet the alarms rang once more as you didn’t feel the floor under your feet. A little late you realized you were dangling in the air.  

The blur came closer and yet another splash of water doused you once more, making you cough, shiver and gasp. His hands wiped your eyes from the stubborn water pooling in the corner of them, clearing your sight for you to watch him properly. The flimsy and soaked robe now stuck on your body like a second skin.

“There we go. You gotta look a bit more alive for me, darling.” His fingers patted your cheeks softly, squeezing your chin to face him. 

“W-Where…” You coughed again, gasping for air.

He just watched you, impassive, as you tried to pull your arms back with a tug, yet they didn’t budge. Your feet twitched. The only part of your body that remained unrestrained. If you fell, the pain wouldn’t be too much. You were hovering a few feet above him after all. 

Slowly the numbness holding your brain hostage left, earning you back some mobility, but enough to stop and look down at yourself, or at least attempt to. A spreader bar kept your arms separated behind your back. Your upper body leaned towards him as the rest dangled. 

The cold water dribbled in little rivulets down your shivering thighs, you didn’t have time to protest as the ice cold liquid drenched you again. 

“F-Fuck, stop!” you gurgled, kicking in the air. But he made sure each part of you was soaked. “I’m awake already you-”

He splashed your face with a smirk, silencing your yapping, earning himself a glare. You were awake. And aware, just like he needed you to be. 

“Good. Good. Now… mind telling me who you’re running errands for?” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Don’t know them. I think you'll have to illustrate me.” 

You thrashed and kicked his way. Pulling a mocking yet brief laugh as he caught your first leg. His eyes raked your exposed and shimmery wet skin. His thumb rubbed just above your tabi socks, slowly increasing in a powerful squeeze. 

“There’s only three people that are in touch with Odai’s services.” He mumbled, pulling you by the hostage ankle, the suspension device you were tied to, moved in his direction, obeying without reply, unlike you. And by the looks of the room, you supposed it was a torture space. 

Bars, ropes and other weapons rested too comfortable on the tables. But what truly snatched your whole attention for a moment was seeing the different objects and other tools you often got to see not so well hidden in the massaging rooms. The inns and massage houses were often a decoy for cruising. 

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.” He pulled your chin  and spoke again. “Like I said only three people, daimyos especially, have the connection with Odai. Kingpin.” Your face turned in disgust at the name and he hummed.

“Osborn.” Your eyes went wide for a moment. “Yeah, it’s as surprising for me as everyone that finds out. And last but not least. The boss himself, Tyler Stone.”

Your lips flattened in a tight line at the name, yet Miguel’s eyes shone. 

“Tyler is it?” He nodded with pursed lips, then a nonchalant huff escaped his lips. “I see. Guess the upper city life wasn’t doing that old man any good.” 

“Old man? Oh god, Save it, will you?I’m not here to talk about your daddy issues, Spiderman.” 

You teased, but that earned you a firm spank that had your jaw clenching in a hiss and your toes curl, drowning a cuss. 

“Too bad he still fails as one for not teaching his pets to behave.” A dark glint crossed his eyes, “But don’t worry. We’ve got time.” 

With a growl you tensed up your muscles, strengthening your core enough to gain some balance and kick his way, but the attack was ridiculous and you only managed to annoy him. 

“So damn impolite.” He slapped with precision your cold pussy. Pulling a yelp as you stilled. “That’s better.” 

His hands took the rope and wasted no time bending your knee back against your thigh. Although you gave him another kick, it barely budged him. He restrained the first and caught the other one just in time before it connected to the side of his head.

“Dios mio, you’re such a brat.” He restrained the other leg, almost with a lick of humor, leaving you in nothing but a frog-tie position. 

Not only now you hovered over him, completely soaked, angry and hogtied. But your cunt was also exposed to him. A shade of flush traveled through your cheeks as he pulled the lever to lower the suspension device just enough for his eyes to meet your folds. And as much as you tried to close your legs and deny him the sight, you couldn’t. 

“Now… What does Tyler want so bad he sent you here, hmm?” He stepped back, raising his hand to show his talons protruding from the tip of his fingers.

Your eyes widened for a moment while one of his sharp fingers tipped your chest. You didn’t have to be a genius to understand one slice of them was enough to end you on the spot. But nervousness had a habit of turning you into a parrot when the nerves kicked in. 

“Might as well call you kitty-man.” A stupid parrot that earned a growl from the danger before you. 

The sound of fabric tearing was too deafening for a moment, your eyes closed as soon as the talons reached up to you and then a shiver ran through your skin when the cold air hit your bare and hardened nipples. He had sliced to shreds your robe, leaving nothing but hanging pieces in between the ropes and you. A beautiful soaked and flushed mess. His talons retracted. 

“I liked you better when you weren’t talking without my permission.” He mumbled and approached the special table, retrieving a bamboo gag and waving it for your eyes to see. “Ball gags are unsafe for little things like you. Wouldn't want you to choke on purpose.” His hands fastened the gag around your mouth, making your teeth sink into the bamboo piece. “I’d rather do so myself.” 

A crawl pooled in your lower back, but even so, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, refusing to completely acknowledge his undeniable advantage. 

“Now. I speak, you listen.” His hands pulled your open thighs closer to his face, his eyes couldn’t help but admire properly the wondrous display of his authority effects on your skin. 

A lovely patch of hair covered your pubis, stopping an inch away from your cleft. Puffy labia remained slightly parted by the position of your thighs, doing a poor job in covering the prized pearl of nerves resting in between them, calling for proper attention. His pupils widened involuntarily when it pulsated. 

The man in him urged him into making you talk. And by the reactions of your body, he knew the perfect torture for such task. Conventional methods would only be inefficient but boring. Even if you were his enemy, the chivalrous side of him dictated he couldn’t ignore a wet pussy. 

His eyes darted to a wriggling you, staring, amused at how your desperate movements of freedom made the ropes to friction tighter, leaving faint red imprints of their pattern in your skin. But oh, when the little whimper echoed behind your gag as soon as the rope touched your nipples, fueled him. He knew he had to do something. 

“Look at me.” He instructed once more and your eyes darted his way with a glare. 

That stupid and smooth smirk in his plump lips only fed dry bones to the hatred fire burning within you. 

“We’ll make this quick and easy. I’ll ask something and naturally you’ll reply. I know… I know. Don’t look at me like that, corazón. If the answer is yes, you’ll…” He took your chin and made you nod. “But if it’s a no?” He moved your head to shake it side to side gently. “Understood?” 

Upon not hearing an answer, he reached for your folds and pressed his thumb against your clit, applying the right amount of pressure. Your thighs twitched and you whimpered. 

“I said, understood?” 

You nodded almost right away. 

“Good girl.” He released your clit and rubbed the inside of your thigh, relishing in the sight of the wetness seeping through your pores. 

Miguel reached for a little clamp and pried it open, hovering it over your nipple. Your eyes followed the wooden device, backing up as much as you could. 

“Do you know what the scroll contains?” He held you still

You shook your head. But the clamp was put on your nipple anyway, tearing a throaty whimper from you while glaring his way. You weren’t lying, and still the asshole preferred to complete the task by adorning both breasts with the wooden clamps. The pressure sent a delicious crawl through your chest. 

“You came here to retrieve it, without knowing what it had inside?” The palpable mock in his tone had your eyes rolling, annoyed, but he tapped your clit, rewiring immediately your focus on him. “Nuh-uh. Eyes on me. Yes or no?” His thumb found its way to your pulsating bundle once more, rubbing in tortuously slow circles. Your hips by instinct twitched to the side, seeking more of the friction. 

You managed to nod, panting behind the gag while he flickered it to the sides. Each touch only sent burning waves of need through your body.

“Silly girl. Fetching things without knowing what they have is dangerous and stupid.” His face hovered over your cunt, examining with narrowed eyes the way your insides clenched around nothing the more he caressed it. 

“Does it feel good? Hm?” Other fingers joined the party as they parted your folds apart, revealing the soaked flesh in between. A fine thread of your juices escaped, smearing itself on his palm, a frisson of lust crossed his focused features when you eventually nodded. 

Of course it felt good. Too good for your own well being and damned you if Tyler found out about it. He’d deem you not trustworthy on the spot. But… Did it matter? You were done for anyway as the man before you, edged you into breaking two of the three most important restrictions a shinobi couldn’t break. Need for pleasure and longing. 

Both a distraction that nearly cost your life once, and now has gotten you into this predicament. You didn't need his hot breath fanning your pussy, and you certainly didn’t longed for his fingers to explore your insides, like his eyes were. You couldn’t. 

“Bet. Just look at you” He kept your puffy and sensitive folds open, too focused on the delicious mess he had created just with his fingers. He smiled, pleased. “So fucking wet. Has it been a long time for you, huh preciosa?”

He buried one of his long fingers inside, watching every reaction of you. Your brows arched and your eyes turned glossy, the flush in your cheeks increased despite the feeble attempt of anger flashing in your eyes. Yet you were angry at none but yourself for enjoying this man’s touch. Not that you could do something about it. And the more friction he provoked inside your spasming and needy walls, the more you planned on doing nothing about it. 

The moment his fingers stopped a whine dared to float out from your gagged mouth. And never in your life had you seen a man smiling so shamelessly. And he beamed when another fingers sunk in the glistening and clenching hole, knuckle deep. 

“Hear yourself, cariño.” He whispered and your breath hitched. His long and thick fingers curled up in a hook motion and pumped. Once, twice, over and over and over. Faster, deeper. 

Each pump turned wetter and wetter than the previous, the sounds your sopping cunt did only mixed with the whimpers and groans your mouth gave him. For once you were grateful you were gagged, or else the shame of having to beg him to not stop would be too much to handle. Yet each stroke of him inside your melting walls caused an obscene slurp and suck, and when the first spasm came, he released your insides with no remorse. 

You wriggled, desperate. If your mouth couldn’t  beg, your hips and cunt did by moving forward, trying to still get a feeling of his fingers. 

“Did you hear that?” He chuckled, admiring the hot and wet mess in his hand. Much to your disbelief, he took each of his soaked fingers in his mouth, groaning as soon as the first hit his taste buds. 

Your eyes stared, pupils wide, at the way his tongue cleaned every single trace of your juices off, like if he had just ate the most scrumptious of delicacies with his hands. 

“Funny thing is that you interrupted my meal time.” He stepped back to slick the stray strands of hairs that had dared to come in his sight, but quickly propped your bent and tied knees on top of his shoulders, “Guess you’ll do.” 

Nothing prepared you for the feeling of his mouth sinking in between your thighs, devouring, starved, caring little for the finesse his mouth kissed and sucked every inch of your cunt. One of his hands held your thigh in place, as the other held your hips tightly, his thumb pressed against the curve of your stomach. Preventing you from wriggling too much. 

His ears kept fueled with the syrupy sweet moans erupting every couple of seconds the more he delved in. His nose buried in the soft patch of hair as his tongue focused solely on your clit. He dribbled it with such hunger and energy it was impossible for your eyes to keep themselves in front.

But you had to, cause you didn’t want to miss a single second of his tongue slipping in and out, dribbling, slurping and sucking that sweet bundle that nearly made you see stars. A spank echoed and you groaned. Drool escaped the fissures of your lips, also making the gag a mess. 

A violent shiver shook you when his tongue traveled further and further, your head shook but he spanked you again, a warning to stay still and he now parted your cheeks and used his tongue to tease the pulsating ring of muscles. Your spine arched in a way that would put a contortionist to shame when he shook his head and traveled up back at your clit.

Devouring was a flimsy word for what he was doing. His eyes pinned you in the spot as his tongue feasted on your pussy, viciously. The sounds coming out of his mouth nearly matched the ones his fingers did. 

“Don’t come.” 

Well, fuck him cause that was just what you were about to do. How could you not when he was purposely instigating that spot that ached so good? Fuck him and his authority. Fuck his warnings. Fuck him. You came. 

It was like an electric jolt had impacted through your body, your head shook over and over, too overridden trying to assimilate the orgasm hitting you with such force it bulldozed all coherent thoughts from your brain. The muffled shriek was like music to his ears, but even so a growl rumbled in his chest. You had disobeyed. 

His eye twitched for a second but sighed, backing up. His hand wiped his glistening chin and lips and approached the table once again. He took a long dark bar that elongated itself when he pressed a button. The hooked a set of cuffs in the hoops on each side’s end pulled the lever of your contraption down. 

The chains whirred and he maneuvered the lever again, stopping you right before you impacted the floor. When he crouched right before you, a hardening bump in between his robe caressed your face as he removed the gag. 

You coughed, meekly, with swollen and flushed lips, exhaling like you had ran a marathon in just a couple of seconds. 

“Since you wanna disobey me so bad…” With a swing of his talons he cut the ropes that held your body suspended, and he caught you, just to put you gently on the floor. “I think it’s time for discipline.” 

Miguel placed the bar right above your ankles and secured each limb on each side with the cuffs, spreading your hips and thighs as well, giving him the perfect view of your exposed holes. He carefully cut the box tie around your breast in charge or caging them but didn’t remove the clamps. Instead, he took your reddening arms, full of the rope texture imprinted and guided them underneath you, straight to touch the bar. 

“Hold it.” He ordered and took a piece of jute nearby and bound your wrist to the stretcher. 

The numbness in your arms mattered little when the tingling remains of your peak still drowned your mind. Too momentarily gone to notice he had removed his robe, leaving his bare body to your unfocused scrutiny. 

He kneeled behind you and pulled your hair back, showing the mouthwatering curve of your throat. For a moment, the itch of his fangs to sink in that tender skin of yours was too strong to ignore, but his self control reminded him of the punishment he had in store for you. 

His hand lifted your hips higher, to align his cock into your trembling cunt. Miguel stretched his hand to grab your nape and press you deeper against the cold floor. Your body welcomed the coolness as the burning persisted. 

A moan echoed in the room as his broad tip rubbed against your drooling hole. 

“You want it, pequeña?” 

Your hips gave him the answer as they bucked to meet him, but he pulled away, chuckling.

“No, no. I removed the gag because I want you to use your voice, so use it. Do you want it?”

A throaty and meek ‘yes’ came past your lips and it was all he needed to push inch by inch inside. An involuntary gasp rumbled in your mouth

Each bit of himself stretched and molded your walls to his hefty girth, as they choked and gobbled him in. The fiery fluttering of them had Miguel sighing in relief while he kept your hips in place. And once he pushed against your hilt, he pushed forward, as if needing to go beyond, deeper with a powerful thrust. 

Your skin slapped against his once, twice, thrice, four times, until you couldn’t keep up the pace to count, or breath, or think. Your breast shook underneath you, the clamps and the coldness of the floor stimulated the right spots, yet no sound dared to come out your mouth. Too fucked out to chose which one you’d vocalize with the pleasure he inflicted.

The sound of flesh slapping unceasingly screwed the synapses course in your brain, filling the room. Weak and broken sobs turned into breathless wheezes. Your mouth parted open, in a silent scream when his pace increased. His hand once again pulled your hair back as his hot breath tickled your neck. 

His tongue licked the pleasure tears rolling on each side of your flushed and ruined cheeks. The mascara and the courtesan makeup were no longer able to withstand the heat, nor the sweat pearling your body. For a moment he took the time to admire his cock stretching you, filling you to the very top as you milked him.

“You take me so well, corazón” He grunted, plowing with all his might, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. To your inevitable doom. “You wanna cum, pequeña?”

“Y-Yes!” You shrieked in between wheezing sobs. 

“Have you earned it?” 

Your poor body bounced mercilessly underneath him. Your nails scratched and sunk into the bar, desperate for permission as the first sparks of your peak ignited in the pit of your abdomen. 

“Ple…Please!” You choked, unable to hold it in any more. 

“See? Manners aren’t that bad.” He smiled against your neck and groaned right into your ear. So sinfully deep and commanding. “Cum.” 

It wrecked you. He ruined you completely after hitting that forbidden spot that had you a blubbering and shrieking mess underneath him. Peak too devastatingly good for your poor brain to process, too intense to keep it all in, you came. And came hard. Drowning his cock in the warmth of your juices as they gushed the moment his tip kissed your cervix. 

The raspy and manly groan he gave you as he shot the hot and thick ropes of himself in the depths of your spasming walls was everything he needed for an idea to finally seed out in his mind. 

“From this moment…” He panted, satisfied with the wreckage he just created. “You belong to me.” He gasped, pulling out with all the reluctance of the world. “Meaning, you work for me now.” 

He staggered and picked his robe, a giant spider symbol scarred into his chest was quickly covered when he secured the robe around him. A fulfilled smirk played briefly in his flushed mouth.

“Don’t disappoint me, preciosa.” Was all you managed to hear before the door closed.

Maybe being a double agent wouldn't be that bad.  

Dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

[owololcat]

Slugcat Dashboard Simulator!!!

💥 scavslayingchieftain

what in void’s name are these fucking thingies? /pos

⦻ vultureculture-deactivated119023

those are yeeks! They're normally native to outer expanse, though you may occasionally find a few in farm arrays if you're lucky! :3

💥 scavslayingchieftain

I love em gimme like 20

🍯 gourmdan-ramscug

I just saw a pup get carried into the treetops by a squidcada. Their mom was able to grab em before they could get hurt but now I'm wondering how many squidcadas it’d take to lift me…

🍯 gourmdan-ramscug

clerik dem

🎭 long-live-4pe

I think catboy pebbles would kill a wildscug.

🐁 the-johndoe

Wildscug from Outer Expanse here, can confirm. I only got one second to process the glory of an iterator in a catboy costume before I got my brain nuked and woke up back in The Wall.

🎭 long-live-4pe

… Not what I meant, but this is most certainly funnier than what I intended.

👁️ ripples-and-reflections

heyyyy sorryyyy your mate went down to the void sea and became an echo. yeahhhh he’s stuck between life and death with no escape to either. his attachment to his worldly desires was just too strong, sorryyy.

🌀 ur-getting-eepy

OE scugs, today is the day we finally decide...

🍯 gourmdan-ramscug

This is actually a fun way to gauge the colony's opinions on my antics. I’ll be keeping tabs on this! Thanks, Hypnotist!

🌀 ur-getting-eepy

OH HI DAD

🐟 moons-secret-lovechild

I just found 2 dead noodleflies with their needles shanked into each other. Can any nature-smart scugs explain why they do this?

🌼 fren2all

actually it's just a simple territorial dispute, which are always battles to the death in noodleflies. but what's really interesting is that if there's a winner left alive, they'll actually adopt the baby noots of the loser!

🐟 moons-secret-lovechild

Huh. Talk about a custody battle, am I right?

💥 scavslayingchieftain

my iterator just gave me a pearlreader and a cluster of pearls with a graphic novel series called “Spinning Top’s Folly” on them and WHERE THE FUCK HAS THIS BEEN ALL MY LIFE???

🪡 slash-srs

A new face to share brainrot with is always a welcome sight.~

💥 scavslayingchieftain

oomf, you don't get it.

i used to be a wildscug.

this is my first taste of iterator entertainment.

i can never go back.

🪡 slash-srs

OH SHIT, THAT IS A BIG DEAL. Anyways, your iterator picked a great first series for a creature who's unfamiliar with the benefactors and their history! If you're interested in fanfiction, I recommend trying to get your paws on some of the “Eternity Confluence” pearls by The Werelizard! Its this really silly canon divergence fic where Howlite Skies follows Spinning Top when they run away from the creche, resulting in extra shenanigans and a happier ending for both.

🦎 da-littlest-lizor

imma lizardcat, actually, but ty for the shoutout! I had a lot of fun expanding upon the sibling dynamic they had in the early chapters :}

🪡 slash-srs

H-HELLO?????

🐁 the-johndoe

I stole an egg with plans to eat it the following cycle but oops looks like I'm a dad now. forgive the shitty quality but meet batnip bread everyscug

🌼 fren2all

Pretty fucked up lookin slugpup

🐁 the-johndoe

monk ur supposed to be the nice one, don’t insult ur niece! >:T

🐁 the-johndoe

#so this is the fabled found family

@gourmdan-ramscug MOOOM HYPNOTIST AND MONK ARE BEING FUNNIER THAN ME ON MY OWN POSTS AGAAAAIN!

🌼 fren2all

Fuck kinda dad runs to the grandparent to solve his problems? lol

🐁 the-johndoe

I will suplex you into a patch of protorot grrr

🎭 long-live-4pe

Guess who finally got their title? The Gentleman, at your service.~

🦎 da-littlest-lizor

holup i thought u were a messenger how tf u get a title?

🎭 long-live-4pe:

I actually reside in a colony atop Four Painted Easels. I am a messenger by employment rather than by purpose!

As for how I earned a title in the first place, the scavengers took a pearl that was of great importance to 4PE, so I swiped it back from right under their snouts. Apparently I greatly resembled a gentleman thief from some old novels from the benefactor era.

🦎 da-littlest-lizor:

oh those scavs are gonna send they best elites after u lmao. i can def see how a colony would see you in that way tho, congrats! u earned it!

[un-petit-sanctuaire]

Night Ride

Pairing: Sylus x f!MC

Genre: Fluff

Rating: General

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You were stressing out over your work, so Sylus decided to take you on a joyride on his motorcycle that night.

Author’s Note: It’s my first Love and Deepspace fic! I’d say it’s set not long after around Nightplumes. Anyway, I haven’t written in a while, so please excuse any rustiness. Also, English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes kindly. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ Constructive criticism and feedback are very welcome! I’d really appreciate them to help me write better in the future. Last but not least, happy reading. ♡

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡

You were pacing back and forth in Sylus’s living room that evening, a bunch of files and documents spread around you on the floor. The owner of the house himself was sitting in a nearby armchair, his hands nonchalantly flipping today’s Linkon newspaper you brought him. On his shoulder, a familiar mechanical crow sat, glancing between the newspaper and your restless movements.

Two days ago, the Association assigned you and your team a mission. The assignment was broken down into smaller individual tasks and divided equally among your team members. Yet, somehow, you felt your part was very challenging to figure out. Your assigned location was close to the N109 Zone, though—you weren’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse. Feeling that your brain might explode for working outside alone, you decided to grace a certain white-haired man with your presence in his vicinity.

And that’s how you found yourself stressing out at Sylus’s home.

“That’s it,” his voice thundered, making you jump on the spot after what seemed to be an endless staring contest with the papers in front of you. Even Mephisto let out a sharp caw, flapping its wings as it flew off, startled by his master’s sudden break from the silence. Sylus rose from his seat, turning towards where he kept his keys before adding, “Let’s go, kitten.”

“... What?” You turned your attention from your papers towards him, eyebrows knitted.

“You should see the agitated look on your face. Your task isn’t going to resolve itself unless you have a clear mind.” With a casual flick of his finger, he sent his motorcycle keys spinning into his palm. “Let’s head outside.”

“But—”

“Do I look like I take no for an answer?”

Given how much time you’d spent together lately—no thanks to the energy linkage—you seemed to understand there was probably no room for debate with him under these circumstances. “Wait, where are we going? Can’t I just stay and do my work?” Despite your protests, you found yourself trailing after him, half-running to keep up with his long strides as he headed for the door.

“Somewhere to get some fresh air,” he replied without looking back at you. With another flick of his fingers, his jacket effortlessly landed over his shoulder. “I could use some too. Your little pacing game made my head spin.” He stopped outside in front of his bike, finally turning around to hand you your usual helmet. “And no, you’re still going whether you like it or not,” he declared. His sentence sounded like a threat, but his tone was somehow gentle.

You considered for a moment. He might have a point; you wouldn’t make any progress with your head clouded by frustration. Besides, your task wasn’t due any time soon, and after working on it all day long, you desperately needed to clear your mind. Normally you would argue, but your energy had already been drained from all the thinking. Sighing, you took the helmet from his hand and slipped it on. Your fingers fumbled, trying to fasten the buckle. Sylus let out a small scoff, stepping forward to help you click it into place.

As you settled behind him on the motorcycle, his eyes found yours in the reflection of the side mirror.

“Don’t be shy, sweetie. Hold on to me.”

You hesitated for a bit and ended up gripping his jacket, not quite fully clutching onto him. “Ease up on the speed, though,” you remarked, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Oh? You get to tell the driver how to behave, now?” he shook his head, a subtle smirk curling at the corner of his lips. “Sure, I’ll keep it civil,” he replied, though you weren’t sure if he was being genuine or merely teasing you.

With a rev of the engine, he drove out of the side street and onto the main highway. The night sky above the N109 Zone hung in its usual dark and misty state, but the city lights gradually sprung to life around you. You inhaled the cool evening air, soaking in your surroundings. You were a biker yourself, but for once, it felt refreshing to be the passenger—especially since he always took the reins when the two of you rode his motorcycle.

You slowly became aware that you were heading towards Linkon. The highway stretched before you, nearly deserted, and the night enveloped you in a hush. The breeze rustled past, making your hair dance behind you.

The bike was gaining speed.

“Sylus,” you called, yanking his jacket lightly.

“Hm?”

The teasing tone in his hum was now evident.

“Don’t pretend that I don’t notice what you’re doing,” you retorted, the wind whipping fiercely around you.

“And what is it that I’m doing besides taking you for a ride?”

And as if on cue, the motorcycle roared, surging forward with a sudden burst of speed. The unexpected acceleration forced you to cling onto him for support to the point you were practically hugging him from the back, your fingers intertwined just below his stomach. “You’re doing this on purpose!” You half-shouted, your voice barely cutting through the rush of wind. “This was supposed to be a joyride, not a race!”

You couldn’t quite discern his response, but the side mirror reflected another smug smirk playing at the corner of his lips. You rolled your eyes. Oh, how you longed to wipe that smirk off his face. Speeding could be dangerous; what if a cat or some other creature suddenly crossed your path? You had no doubt he was far exceeding the speed limit. Luckily, the road was now completely empty. It also dawned on you that you weren’t heading into the center of Linkon, but rather veering towards the outskirts.

He slowed down as the bike left the main road and entered a slightly narrower one. “Don’t tell me Miss Hunter herself never accelerates?” he finally said, amusement lacing his tone.

“I’m a law-abiding citizen,” you rebutted, not quite answering his question. You did, in fact, once or twice speed up when you needed to arrive early for urgent missions. However, you were sure as hell it had never been as fast as Sylus was driving just now. “I mean, it was thrilling, but—”

“A-ha.”

He snickered, cutting you off. “I think someone is enjoying the ride more than they’re letting on,” his sing-songy tone made you roll your eyes again. “She’s practically holding onto me for dear life.”

Looking down, you realized your arms were still encircling his waist.

You quickly let go, straightening your posture behind him. “Because I was afraid I would be thrown off with that speed of yours, that’s why,” you said, pinching his side in an attempt to hide your own fluster at being caught off-guard. “It just seemed dangerous,” you mumbled.

“Careful, sweetie, no pinching the driver now,” he teased. As if reading your mind, he added with unexpected seriousness, “Your safety always comes first. We’ll be fine as long as I have good reflexes and solid bike-handling skills, which, lucky for you, I actually do.” Another smirk was visible from behind his visor, reflected in the mirror. “Besides, did you forget that I can use my Evol to secure you in place?”

You decided to ignore his remarks. Pretty sure the more you took the bait, the more amused he would be.

You noticed the road ascending towards the hill, and soon you found yourselves leaving the city behind and entering a somewhat wooded area.

“You’re not kidnapping me, are you?”

Your question elicited a chuckle from him. “You are powerful enough to knock me down when I’m distracted, and you could easily run off with my bike, leaving me here alone,” he said casually. “What makes you think I’d be kidnapping you? No, kitten, I’m not. Aren’t you curious to know what I have planned?”

He sounded almost giddy that your brows furrowed, half-annoyed.

“Very, actually,” you snorted, growing impatient. Was teasing you his way of taking your mind off work? “But as if you’ll actually tell me what it is.”

Sylus cackled. “Correct. You’ll have to suffer with anticipation, just like always.”

You restrained yourself from launching a punch at his shoulder. The area around you grew darker, with hardly any light in sight except for Sylus’s motorcycle and the occasional flicker from the lampposts. “Well, the breeze is getting rather cold,” you complained. You were only wearing your trusted white cropped jacket, while he was comfortably clad in leather.

There was a pause before he replied rather thoughtfully, “Stick close to me.”

You scooted forward, inching slightly closer to him. You heard him add, “We’re almost there.”

The bike eventually came to a halt a few minutes later. You dismounted, placing your helmet on the seat. Sylus followed suit, ruffling his silver hair back into place. You were probably going to involuntarily stare if the landscape before you didn’t capture your attention.

“Oh, wow...”

You took in your surroundings as you stood at the top of a hill, gazing out over the twinkling city below. The sky was a deep, rich shade of navy blue, dotted with shimmering stars. Linkon was clearly visible from up here; the illuminated skyscrapers flickered like fireflies, casting a warm glow against the darkness.

“Impressed?”

Sylus’s tall figure towered beside you. You glanced at him, expecting to find a smug expression there to show you an I-told-you-so look. However, while the corners of his lips did curl upward, his gaze remained soft, overlooking the gleaming city.

You were about to pester him, ‘Oh, even the big, scary leader of Onychinus can get sappy over things like this?’ but somehow the words stayed lodged in your throat.

“I am,” was all you could manage to utter. “I never knew we could see the entire city from up here.”

“I come here a lot whenever I need a break or want to be alone,” he nodded. “Just looking down at the city makes me feel at ease.”

Were you hallucinating, or did he seem a bit more sentimental than usual?

You felt his red irises shift from the scenery towards you.

Quickly, you turned your head away from him back to the view stretched beyond. “Oh, well,” you cleared your throat. “I didn’t know you could feel stressed too. You always seem... collected.”

Sylus laughed heartily. There was a pause before he replied, “I only do what I need to do.” He slid his hands into his pockets as if his words held no weight, leaving you to ponder for a moment.

The cold wind swept between you once again, prompting you to inch a little closer to him. It was really not that bad, but you hugged your arms for some warmth.

“... Thanks for bringing me here,” you muttered.

He noticed you creeping towards him, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, without averting his gaze from the city lights below, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and gently pulled you closer to share his warmth. You were surprised you didn’t object or retreat—his presence felt oddly nice and comforting.

“You’re welcome, kitten.”

There were a few seconds of comfortable silence between you. Linkon was rather quiet that night—whether it was because you were quite far from the city center or because everyone else was already in a deep slumber. The only sounds that reached your ears were the delicate breeze rustling through the bushes and the distant hum of car engines.

“You’re right. This place is perfect for clearing your mind,” you spoke after what felt like a pregnant pause.

“It indeed is,” he replied. “You know, I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

The air felt warm, a stark contrast to the cold wind earlier. Or perhaps it was just your cheeks? “Not even Luke and Kieran? Or Mephisto?” You quickly covered it up and asked rather amusedly.

“Especially not the twins,” he chuckled. “Last time they discovered my hideout, things went chaotic. I take it you know them well enough now?”

The corners of your lips twitched upwards.

He then continued, “Mephisto would be a great companion, yes, if only he didn’t get too territorial and challenge the local birds to a boxing match. You saw how he was last time during our video call when I was in the park.”

You laughed—a genuine laugh after waves of frustration throughout the whole day. It felt warm and fuzzy, but it didn’t quite fight another blow of the cold gust. Up here definitely felt colder due to the high elevation. You fully folded your arms this time.

“Cold?” you heard Sylus ask.

“A little,” you allowed yourself to approach him closer. Half your back was now covered by his towering frame. You noticed him shifting, positioning his body to block the chilly breeze, his arm still wrapped around your shoulder.

You tilted your head upwards slightly to see his face. He wasn’t looking back at you; his eyes seemed glued to the illuminated city below. Only then did you realize how soft he looked, a striking contrast to the way he had presented himself during your first encounter. You couldn’t help but wonder what was on his mind. Was he thinking about...?

“You know, most people would be enjoying the view from up here,” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “But someone would rather stare at my face, apparently.”

This was the second time that night you realized you were staring at him. You turned your head, frantically searching for something else to look at from the glimmering Linkon.

“Yes, sweetie, the scenery is over there.”

You could feel he was grinning.

“Shut up.”

Perhaps it was another gust of wind that made you press your back against his chest, closing the distance between the two of you. He didn’t move, but his arm was still protecting you—practically hugging you from behind now with his hand reaching across your neck. A light chuckle escaped his lips when hearing your response, and you could feel his head leaning downwards. “No denying?”

“Not answering,” you muttered. You tried not to turn your head towards him, knowing that your faces would be only inches apart.

There was another chuckle before he called you in a low murmur.

“Kitten.”

His free hand glided from his pocket to your chin, delicately coaxing your head to face him. His touch felt so careful—so cautious as if he feared you would push him away or break or explode. You could even barely feel his finger graze your skin.

“... Hm?”

Once again, somehow, you obliged without protest. You looked at him; his face was so close you could feel the warmth of his breath. His crimson eyes locked onto you, and you forced yourself to meet his gaze this time. Only a few centimeters separated your face from his. You could feel your cheeks flush once again, your heart thumping faster than usual.

“I was right,” he uttered quietly. A smirk adorned the corner of his lips, but his eyes were tender.

Your answer was barely audible when you murmured, “About what?”

“I knew you were staring at me and not the city view,” he spoke in a soft whisper. His face was very near now that you could feel his nose lightly grazed yours, his breath warm against your skin. With such closeness, you realized how nice he smelled, how the faint radiance bathed his face, how his silvery strands fluttered and danced with the breeze.

You glanced down at his lips for a split second before darting your eyes back, locking them with his again.

“Three times now,” he breathed, catching you again. “Admit defeat, kitten...”

“... Fine.” You swore you could hear your own heartbeat thundering in your ears by now. One small move forward and—

“Fine, you’re right,” you repeated.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath—your mind hazy from his proximity.

“Kitten?”

“... Yeah?”

His fingers still held your chin in place, his eyes never left yours, and his other arm remained wrapped around you. Perhaps it was his body acting like a shield, or perhaps the cold breeze ceased to exist, but you were almost sure you felt blanketed with warmth. You could feel your heart quicken, the anticipation hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

“May I...?”

Very subtly, your head nodded, and your eyes gave him the signal.

With that, Sylus closed the distance between you, and your lips met delicately. The world around you faded into a gentle hum, the city lights twinkling like distant stars as you closed your eyes. His lips were surprisingly warm, a tender caress you never expected from someone like him. The warmth radiating from him enveloped you, making you forget the chill of the night air as you melted into his kiss.

For the first time in two days, you gladly decided to ignore your work.

And perhaps scheduling future night rides with him wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

[yellowjestertfs]

Altered State: Part 1

IDK if anyone on here will be interested in this story, its kind of a long and slower but thought I would post it anyways. More parts coming next week!

Most great adventures start with a call to arms, a quest from on high, a declaration of purpose to serve the greater good. Edward’s and Leon’s started with a question asked through a mouthful of chips.

“Wanna play this new game dude?” Leon asked words barely intelligible. He stood in the doorway of their living room, his fat frame blocking most of the light. In one hand he held a bag of chips and in the other, he held up an unfamiliar battered keep case, the type that held video game disks inside. The thing had a red and blue design that Edward didn't recognize. 

“I guess. What is that thing, will it work on my Wii?” Edward asked. He lay on the couch, long thin body taking up the whole thing but sat up and moved over to make room for his roommate. 

Leon shook his head “I don’t think so dude, it's like super retro.” He walked over to the TV and started fiddling with the row of older consoles that belonged to their third roommate Alvis trying to see if any could accommodate the game. "It was free though." He said as he found the right one, an extremely retro blocky thing Edward was surprised even accepted disks. Leon booted up the system, the familiar hum of the machine filling the space. “I got it from that comic shop down the street. This buff dude at the counter just handed it to me. Said he thought I would put it to good use.”

“Alvis would kill you if he knew you were touching that,” Edward warned, always the one to show more caution. 

“Fuck Alvis. If he didn't want it to be used he shouldn’t have bought it” Leon countered. Neither of the two were particularly big fans of their other roommate, but Leon especially hated his guts. He only let the guy live with them because it made the rent cheaper and because Alvis’ weird retro tech fit in with their decor of half-finished Lego sets, empty pizza boxes, and superhero posters, and because for the most part, Alvis left the two friends alone, spending all his time in the engineering building or fiddling with tech in his room.

Leon opened the case and took out a dusty disk, growing on it to reveal the title “Altered State” and the manufacturer HunkTech, neither of which either Leon or Edward had ever heard of. Leon put the game back into Alvis’s video game console and pressed play. The TV flickered for a moment, then exploded with color so bright it forced both of them to squint. Flashes of neon light, strange symbols, and spinning images seared into their eyes, leaving dancing after images. Neither of the friends could look away, their senses overwhelmed by the pulsating lights that burned into the back of their brains. And just as suddenly as it started, the TV went black and both friends came back to themselves.

“Oh shit" Edward muttered, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. "Your game just fried the TV!Alvis is going to kill you.”

Leon opened his mouth to defend himself but before he could a green holographic display blinked into existence, floating in the air right in front of him. Growing text marched across the living room floor reading:

"Welcome to Altered State.”

Leon’s jaw dropped. "Uh, Ed? You seeing this?”

Edward stood motionless for a moment too shocked to speak. “What the fuck” he breathed “What's going on?”

Both of their holograms shifted to display naked, pixelated 3D models of the two friends, hanging awkwardly in midair. 

“Eww, what the hell,” Leon said. He tried to avert his gaze but the images followed the motion of his head and stayed even when he shut his eyes. 

Neither of the projections was a particularly flattering sight to behold.  Leon’s short, heavy frame was rendered in painful detail—his soft belly, narrow shoulders, pudgy limbs, and average penis were all fully extenuated under the brutally detailed holographic projection. Edward’s model didn’t fare any better. Tall and spindly, his twig-like arms and knobby knees, paired with a notoriously ugly face, gave him the appearance of a scarecrow. Edward was not helped much in its attractiveness by the acne on his face, the greasy thin hair on his head, and the pitifully small penis between his legs fully visible in the naked light of the hologram. 

“Your the one with your dick in my face.” Edward shot back, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the display.  

The hologram flickered again, and new text appeared below both their models:

Analyzing subjects…

The text began to blink as new displays blinked into existence on the peripheral of both their vision, only really notable if focused on. Various menus that displayed statistics quests and a list perks were all there, though all were currently blank. The words level one along with an empty an empty progress bar beneath appeared at the top of their filed of view, though only visible to themselves and not the other. 

Neither of the two friends had time to examine the new features in detail as the words under their models shifted again.

“Analyzing Purpose: Class Selection”

"Class selected: Juggernaut.” Appeared under Leon’s character. 

Leon blinked. "Juggernaut?" he repeated, unsure what to make of the development.

Edward snickered, “I think that's the fantasy term for fatty.”

But before Leon could respond, Edward’s display changed too:

"Class selected: Snake Charmer.”

“What like I’m going to play the flute?” Edward asked.

It was Leon's turn to laugh. “No bro, the game just called you a homo.” 

It took Edward a second to understand. “Not funny,” he said swatting his best friend on the arm, blushing somehow harder. “This is seriously messed up. We need to go to the hospital or something.”

“Relax charmochondriac, don't you see what’s happening?” 

“Group psychosis?” Edward guessed.

“No dude, we are in a video game, and we fucking rule at video games.”

“Leon” Edward said warningly. Before he could say more though quests populated onto both their displays.

“Dude chill this is awesome. My first quest is easy too. I bet I can get level ten before you.”

Edward wasn’t as ready to accept this rapid series of unexplainable events but he also wasn’t ready to let his best friend think he was a chicken. “Fine. I’ll meet you back at the house when I kick your ass.”

Leon laughed and with that both boys raced out the door, shoving each other playfully to get out first. From there both took off to opposite sides of campus, towards their various objectives and their differing yet intimately intertwined destinies. 

-

Leon raced, or his version which was something between a fast walk and an awkward jog, across campus to his first quest. It seemed easy enough: “Go to the gym” it read. Leon wasn’t exactly one for physical fitness but he at least knew where the health center was from campus orientation tour.

Despite his slow pace by the time he reached it he was out of breath. For a moment he stood in front of automatic double doors, panting and intimidated. He stuck out like a sore thumb on this part of campus, dressed in the ratty strained Superman shirt and baggy shorts his protruding belly and wild unkempt hair stood in stark contrast to the muscular adonis in low tank tops and tall fit women in matching sports sets who brushed by him without a second thought. Mustering his courage Leon walked through the doors and into the gym. His ears were greeted by the sound of slamming weights, rhythmic grunts, and a small ding as he completed his first quest and leveled up. He watched as the experience bar filled fully, bumping his level up to two and filling his vision with notifications. The bar continued to fill until it had reached halfway to the next level. A notification appeared in a gray box with plain white blocky text.

You have reached level two. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.

Leon grinned as he felt himself change. He couldn’t actually feel himself getting smarter or more charismatic. He wasn't sure if that was because those were more cognitive stats or if it was because the increase was marginal compared to his strength. Either way, it was a strength that Leon felt himself receive. It wasn't much. Leon didn’t suddenly become a hulk or a bodybuilder but he felt something shift. His shoulders widened slightly, his chest inflated a bit and his butt became less saggy. A single vein buried deep in the layers of fat in his arm engorged itself with blood and snaked its way to the surface, pushed upwards by growing muscle and diminishing fat. He felt physically stronger, faster, like he might be able to actually run a bit without throwing up. He didn't actually look all that different, a quarter of an inch taller, a few pounds shifted from fat to muscle, but inside he felt amazing, electric, like this is what he was made for. Leon suspected that feeling had to do with the other notification waiting for him just below the first.

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Gym Rat: as a juggernaut, you feel comfortable in all athletic spaces.”

Leon felt all his worries and insecurities about being in the gym fade away. He scanned his student ID and strode past the muscled jock at the front counter confidently, flashing him a smile and a slight wave. Leon felt just as comfortable in the gym as if he was at the comic book shop, no more, he felt like he was at home chilling with Edward, like he could do anything and give a damn about who judged him. Leon knew he should be concerned about how this game had physically changed his body and mind so easily but he was too invigorated, too electrified, and he had another quest to do. 

“Do a push-up.” It read simply. 

Leon hadn’t tried to do a push-up since 8th grade gym class but he felt confident he was capable of it with the boost to strength he had received. Leon weaved through the various machines and stations manned by the university’s resident hunks and athletes, some gave him dirty looks but most looked right through him. Leon found he couldn’t care less. He found a corner of the free mat and assumed the push-up position. Despite the recent slight boost to his athleticism, it was a task easier said than done. Leon went down as far as he could until he felt his arms begin to shake, about an inch, then pushed himself up with substantial effort.

To his disappointment, the quest still read as incomplete. He reasoned it must be due to his, form. He tried to go lower but ended up face-first on the mat, unable to push himself up. He went to his knees and did a push-up but that didn’t count either. Nor did a push-up with his butt out in the air, or one in which he rested on the ground for a few seconds in the middle. Leon was about to give up when he saw a guy around his age approach. 

He didn't have the same gorilla bulk as some of the huge men in the gym but his body was visibly lean and defined through his tee-shirt, maybe a runner. “Need any help there” he asked. Leon couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or mocking but his new total comfort in the gym provided by his “Gym Rat” perk made him not care. 

“I’m trying to do a push-up.”

“Just one?” The guy asked with a grin. 

“Gotta start somewhere,” Leon said humbly. 

“Your problem is your stance.” He said. He instructed Leon to assume the plank position and then went about correcting Leon’s form. His arms were too close together, his core was not properly engaged, back not fully straight. The man introduced himself as Cal and then instructed Leon to try again. Leon tried another pushup lowering his body slowly “Lower, lower” Cal called Leon and complied though his face turned red and he wanted to die. Cal didn't let him stop till the tip of his dick was practically touching the mat. Then he went back up, slowly and with more exertion than he had ever used in his whole life. 

He was rewarded with a ding and a slew of notifications. 

“You have reached level three. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.” 

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Perfect Form: as a juggernaut, you instinctually know the proper form to maximize the performance of any athletic endeavor.”

Leon felt his body shift again from where it lay crumpled on the mat. His stomach deflated slightly, and under his man boobs pecs started to form. His legs lengthened a bit causing his shorts to only reach his knees instead of past them. The changes were as small as the first but Leon couldn’t help but feel amazed. He tried to do another push-up and found that his body now naturally assumed the perfect position without him having to think about it. With his new points in strength, he was able to push out another perfect military-style push-up, and two more before he flopped down onto the mat, fully spent.

“You're getting the hang of it,” Cal said smiling. If he had seen Leon's body change he made no indication. “good luck on your workout,” he called out as he left.

“Yeah see you around man” Leon called after him. He felt on cloud nine. At this rate, Leon would reach level 10 by the hour. On cue, two more quests appeared for him to complete. He wondered how Edward was doing, if he had even gained one level by now. Maybe once Leon had power gamed his way into OP status he could help his friend with a quest or two. 

-

Edward walked across the quad at a brisk pace. He would have run if his bony arms and legs didn't make him look like a chicken when he did. Edward wasn’t quite as sold on this whole bizarre real life video game thing as Leon was but he also wasn’t about to let Leon leave him in the dust. Edward's first quest was pretty simple if non-specific, “be within 50 feet of 30 or more people”. 

Edwards tendency to avoid large crowds gave him the advantage of knowing exactly where they often were. The coffee shop by the quad came right to his mind. At this time of the day, the place was packed with students either leaving or going to their mid-day classes. The place terrified Edward, the thought of so many eyes on him, judging him, mocking him, and yet Edward reasoned there was no harm in at least checking the place out, it not as if the quest required him to talk to anyone. 

As he walked Edward wondered at the game. Leon, true to self had accepted the game right away without question. If his friend was muscular instead of fat he might be called a himbo. It wasn’t that he was dumb, he was getting a degree in public health, but he also didn't have a habit of thinking things through particularly throughly. Their freshmen year Leon had built a glider out of the shower curtain and broke his arm jumping off the second floor of their dorm with it. And last year Leon had thought it was a good idea to subscribe to some shady porn website that had given his computer a virus so corruptive even tech wizard Alvis couldn’t remove it. 

Though they were inseparable best friend Edward was the opposite. He was much more cautious about everything, sometimes to irrational extremes. Last semester Edward had almost dropped out because he was too nervous to get approval for his classes from his sociology advisor. If he was scared of his sixty-five year old sweet as candy professor talking to guys he liked was surly out of the question, not that he would have any hope of success with his appearance. 

As Edward walked across the quad he avoided eye contact with students crowded onto the open green sitting and chatting or throwing frisbees. Edward felt drowned in the sea of people, though the lawn wasn’t nearly dense enough to fulfill the quest. 

The line for the coffee shop was out the door which made him want to throw up. He walked slowly forward waiting for the quest to complete. Finally, when he was only a few feet away, practically in line the quest was fulfilled and his experience bar to level two filled fully.

Edward heard a “ding” in his head and several notifications filled his vision startling him.  

“You have reached level two. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence +0.3 Strength.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“People Person: Those around you feel your natural charm and are more likely to accept you in a neutral or positive way, potentially even striking up a conversation.”

Edward felt a strange itch on his brow and a pressure on his jaw but ignored it. He didn't know what to make of the messages. The stats seemed somewhat consistent with role-playing video games, and he supposed the break down made sense with his class. Still, he wasn’t sure how something like charisma would be incorporated into real life, nor his new People Person perk. As a sociology major Edward knew all too well how complex human interaction was. The perk seemed to imply that not only would the game be changing him but also the people around him and their perceptions. He wasn’t sure if that was even possible not to mention ethical.

“Introduce yourself to a stranger,” the next quest said popping up on the side of Edward's vision. That more than any ethical quandary made Edward scared. It was all well and good for the game to claim that people would react positively to Edward but he knew firsthand that wasn’t true. 

“Hey, are you in line” two girls who had walked up behind him asked. Edward froze, realizing he had positioned himself at an awkward spot half in line half not. The girls didn't seem disgusted by his presence but they also didn't seem particularly enthralled, they just wanted to get their coffee. 

Edward nodded his head, the best he could do with his crippling social anxiety. He moved more obviously in line and the girl went back to chatting. As the line crept closer Edward tried and failed several times to work up the courage to introduce himself to the girls. He came up with various scenarios in his head of how he could make an introduction, all of which ended with the girl calling him a creep. 

Finally, after ten minutes, Edward reached the front of the line. He realized in his attempts to complete the quest he hadn’t so much as glanced at the menu. 

“What will you be having today” a tall tan worker asked, his tattooed arms pleasantly stretching out the sleeves of his shirt. Edward just opened and closed his mouth like a fish, mind suddenly blank of every coffee drink ever, including coffee. 

The worker, whose name tag ironically read “Tag” saw his confusion and smiled. “It's a big menu I know. It's fall, so you can never go wrong with a PSL.” He saw Edwards look confused and he sheepishly clarified “Pumpkin spice latte.”

“I’ll do that,” Edward said, voice quiet but clear. He took a deep breath then before he could think about it blurted out “I’m Edward by the way”. 

Tag gave a handsome grin and wrote the name on a cup. “Thanks, Edward, I’ll that get you out for you right away.”

Edward heard a “ding” but ignored it and the notifications that popped up as he paid on the tablet Tag turned towards him. His hands shook as he selected the largest tip options and stumbled over to the designated area to stand while waiting for a drink and looked at the notifications. 

“You have reached level three. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence, +0.3 Strength.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Social Sync: You are naturally attuned to the tone and rhythm of conversation making awkward pauses and interruptions a thing of the past.”

New quests popped up as well, two this time. “Make someone laugh” and “Offer someone advice.”

As the messages appeared Edward felt the same strange pain in his face, like the soreness he sometimes got after smiling all day with Leon. He lifted a hand to his face and felt skin much smoother than his normal rough, dry, pockmarked complexion. His weak chin, which had always been a source of insecurity no longer felt totally concave but pushed out somewhat lending a strange sharpness to his jaw. Edward was about to take out his phone to examine his reflection when he heard a voice beside him. 

“He’s so dreamy, isn’t he,” a man said in his right ear. All his life Edward had been painfully scrawny, wrists the size of cucumber and ribs showing through his pale skin. This man was even more slender like he could break with a strong gust of wind. He held a coffee cup that had the name Trent on the side. The guy didn't seem to mind Edwards's silence and continued staring at Tag longingly. “The coffee here is so bitter but the eye candy is so sweet” he mused. 

“Yeah that guy is what I would call a full-sized candy bar” the comment came out before Edward had time to think. It was a mediocre joke, wordy and unoriginal to a fault, but to painfully shy and unfunny Edward he felt like he was a standup comedian. Trent smiled and gave a slight chuckle, though his quest remained incomplete, probably because the laugh was fake.

“He’s a Snickers, and let's just say I’m not allergic to nuts.” Edward tried again, this time eliciting a better reaction from Trent. A slight giggle was all it took for the quest to complete and Edwards' experience bar to increase half the way to level four. 

“Well both of us are going to go hungry. He’s straight.”

“Really” Edward asked. As a closeted gay until he was 19, when he had finally worked up the courage to tell Leon, Edward thought he had pretty good gaydar, and that Tag guy was anything but straight. “How do you know?” He asked Social Sync perk causing him to put the perfect pause between his declaration of doubt and his question without him even noticing.

“He used to date some girl” Trent responded with a touch of disgust.

“Maybe he’s bi,” Edward said and Trent’s face lit up as if he had never considered the thought.

“Oh wow, do you really think so” He asked excitedly. “Now that you say it he is kind of flirty when he gives me my drink.”

“You should just go up and talk to him” Edward advised sagely. “I mean what is the worst that could happen.” The advice was hollow seeing as how Edward had never even breathed in the direction of any of his crushes. Trent seemed to sense this and looked at Edward dubiously. The game system however didn't seem to care. It marked his “give advice” quest as complete and alerted him he had reached level four with a ding. At this rate, Leon didn't stand a chance of reaching level ten before him. 

“You have reached level four. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence, +0.3 Strength.”

“Sage: Your charisma gives you an innate knowledge of people's desires, both conscious and unconscious. Note: The higher your charisma the more attuned this sense becomes. Note: this effect is 92.22% more effective on people with a penis.”

Edward felt a shift both in his physiology and in his brain, like before he felt his face move, bones like continental plates drifting every so slightly apart into a more attractive configuration. 

Inside his head, he felt something shift far more drastically. The three +1 boosts to his intelligence had been so slight he barely noticed them, just a slight speeding up of his thoughts and a boost to his reasoning ability. This new change in his mind was drastic, impossible not to notice. A sixth sense emerged, filling his head with a source of knowledge he wasn’t quite sure what to do with. It was almost as if he had gained the ability to read minds only not so strong and without any words, only feelings. Suddenly Edward felt Trent’s desire, a sexual one, not just for the barista, but also for the group of frat boys in the corner of the shop and strangely enough for Edward. He felt others' desires too, though much less clearly. 

Two guys standing to his left both hoped the other would buy the alcohol for tonight's party. The other men in the shop only gave wisps of desire. Edward suspected that had something to do with proximity and his still relatively low charisma.

The women on the other hand Edward could barely sense, only receiving a small tingle like TV static instead of anything readable. Edward wondered at that strange 92.22% bonus towards men. Edward took a moment to reflect on the class he had been assigned. Could Leon be right? Could the name of his class be a gay joke, that he was meant to charm not venomous creatures in baskets but instead the snake in men's pants? It seemed somehow too vulgar for a video game though Edward knew that was illogical. If it was true it begged some concerning questions, like how the game had known he was gay and what exactly it was setting him up to do. 

“Would you go talk to him?” Trent asked suddenly snapping Edward back to the present. His sixth sense faded to the back of his mind, though he could still sense Trent’s desire. “Sorry I know that's a lot to ask but I think you would have more luck than me.” He looked at Edward with puppy dog eyes filled with earnest hope. “Be my wingman?”

A notification appeared obscuring a part of Edward’s vision. 

“Quest offered! Set up Trent and Tag romantically. Reward: XP”

A box under the quest notification had two boxes with “yes” and “no” options. Edward had no idea how to select either option. Out loud he said “I’ll do my best,” the notification disappeared and reappeared small in the quest part of his interface. 

Trent smiled “Really? I can’t thank you enough.” He felt Trent’s desire shift from lust to hope. “Just like using a pickup line or something. Don’t make it too awkward” he said suddenly nervous.

“Don’t worry I got this,” Edward said with about 1000% times more confidence than he felt. He had absolutely no business getting other people's tail when he was still a virgin himself. Edward just knew he was going to make an absolute fool of himself.

-

It turned out that the quests to advance to level four were not as easy as Leon had imagined. The first quest “run a lap” proved exhausting but doable. Leon made his way to the elevated track that encircled the gym and with perfect form, if less perfect endurance, ran the loop. Before the game, Leon would have had to walk most of it, but the two levels and six points he had gained in strength allowed him to push through with a slow jog. The quest's completion bumped him 3/4 of the way to level four. He had no doubt the other quest would get him all the way there if only it was possible. 

“Do a pull-up.” How hard could one pull up be? Extremely difficult it turned out. Dangling from the elevated bar Leon tried with all his might to heft his flabby body up. He only managed to lift his head halfway before the effort became too much and he was forced to give up. 

Leon knew it wasn’t his form keeping him from completing the exercise like it had been with the push-up. Instead, it came down to a plain and simple lack of strength. Leon didn't know what to do. He felt frustrated that he had hit a roadblock so soon. He looked at the experience progress bar, so tantalizingly close to the next level. Maybe he would have to do it the old-fashioned way. Train his back and his biceps extensively until he could do a pull-up on his own. Leon knew something like that would take weeks if not months but he was nothing if not stubborn.

Determined not to give up Leon found a set of dumbbells and began to lift with perfect form. The activity didn't provide the same instant gratification as leveling up did, but Leon was starting to understand how people could get addicted to this. As he worked his eyes wandered to the graphical display imprinted on either side of his vision. He found he could unfocus on the information and the display would blur unobscuring his vision. He focused again and the quest and progress bar came back into his field of vision. Leon couldn’t tell if he was imagining it but it seemed as if the bar was more full. He did a few more curls and watched the progress bar tick up the tiniest amount. He lifted the other arm and it moved again. He grabbed the largest weight he could conceivably lift and using all this strength curled it with both arms, the progress bar moved, still not much but more than before. Leon grinned. He was pretty sure he had just found an exploit.

Thirty minutes later a tired Leon prepared for his last set of leg presses to get him to level four. The “exploit” he had found wasn’t as much of a hack as he had originally hoped. Working out gave him experience to fill the bar but not nearly as efficiently as quests. He had to go from machine to machine loading up the maximum amount of weight he could lift, not much, and completing various exercises until that part of his body was completely exhausted. His “perfect form” perk ensured that he was able to complete each exercise to its fullest despite not knowing how to do any of the exercises. All he had to do was approach a machine or a set of weights and his body would suddenly assume the position.

Even with his perfect form protecting him from injury Leon was exhausted. The day's gym session was more exercise than he had ever done in his life. His hair was matted to his forehead and dark sweat spots had appeared around the collar and pits of his Superman shirt. His body felt like a sack of bricks like he could fall asleep and not wake up till his next birthday. Leon persisted and as he performed his tenth leg press he heard a ding. His legs slammed back to their resting position and he breathed heavily, feeling his body begin to change and notifications pop up. 

“You have reached level four. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.” 

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Animal Endurance: The rate at which athletic activities tire you is decreased significantly while the rate of recovery is greatly improved. Note: the potency of this effect scales off of strength.”

Leon felt his muscles harden, his arms bulge, his legs bulk up and shift. His core burned as his abs shredded themselves and strengthened. The layer of fat on Leon’s body, though still present thinned. Underneath it his muscles went from average to distinctly fit, no great titan yet but also not a slouch either. His weariness from all the exercise it took to reach level four drained away thanks to his perk and Leon once again felt reinvigorated. 

He marched over to the nearest pull-up bar and with only a small amount of effort hoisted himself up with the power of his upper body. The completed quest brought him a third of the way up to level five. Two more quests appeared. “Bench press a third of your body weight.” And “exchange workout tips”. Neither seemed especially difficult. 

Leon looked around to see if he could find Cal to knock out the more social of the quests but the helpful runner was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Leon found a benchpress machine and went to load it up. Leon was shocked to realize he had no idea what his body weight was. Before Altered Reality, Leon had weighed 230 pounds, now though he could be anything. Leon squinted at the holographic display in the sides of his vision and found with effort he was able to bring up a stats page. 

Leon: 

210 Pounds

5’10’’ Feet

Strength: 11

Charisma: 7

Intelligence: 8.9

When he played video games with his roommates Alvis was the one who focused on the numbers, min-maxing his character to be the strongest possible. Edward liked to talk to the NPCs, to understand the story, and Leon, well Leon liked to punch things and not worry too much about the boring stuff. Still, with his 8.9 in intelligence, Leon couldn't help but notice some changes to his body composition. There was the inch in height his body had gained from those three levels and the twenty pounds of weight he had lost. Leon suspected the total loss was more like 30 or 40 pounds of fat but that the added muscle made up the difference. His stats were interesting too. Leon hadn’t much thought about it but based on the quests and perks he had received the Juggernaut class seemed to be one that focused on athleticism. Despite that, he still received a marginal boost to charisma and intelligence at each level which he supposed were meant to keep him well rounded. Leon did the math, the current numbers would mean that his intelligence before the game had been eight, which seemed right, and his strength a two, also unfortunately right. The four in charisma seemed rude, but Leon supposed he had never had much luck with women for a reason.

Doing math once again Leon loaded up the bench press, factoring in the weight of the bar to reach seventy pounds one-third of his weight. He assumed the position under it, with perfect form thanks to his perk; then with substantial effort, Leon lifted the bar over his chest and with as much control as he could manage lowered it. That was the easy part, the hard part was pushing it back up. Leon clenched his toes, bugged his eyes, and pushed with all his eleven strength upward. His mind suddenly flashed to the bar crushing him, rolling down onto his neck and ending this game. Panic more than determination got the bar up and back to its starting position. The quest was completed and the progress bar to level five was filled in another third. 

Only once the bar was fully returned to its resting position could Leon see the girl standing over him, upside down from his prone view. 

“I was ready to pull that thing off you.” The girl said in something between a mix of condescension and admiration. Leon sat up.

“Umm, thanks.” He said nervously. He recognized this girl from his advanced biology seminar, although she didn't seem to know him. She looked very pretty with her high ponytail and tight yoga pants, which only made his voice stutter more. “I’m Leon.”

“Cassy,” she said.

An idea came to his mind. “Got any tips for this one?” Leon asked, hoping to knock out his remaining quest. 

Before Cassy could answer though a tall man in a low-cut tank top that showed off his ripped torso and cannonball shoulders approached and wrapped his mammoth vascular arms around her. “Cassy, why the fuck are you talking to this fatty?” He asked as if Leon were some flaming garbage outside his window, offensive to his sight. Leon recognized him as a member of Alpha Sigma, one of the best and most dickish fraternities on campus.  

“Fuck off Hunter” Cassy said rolling her eyes.

“Yeah fuck off Hunter” Leon repeated. He instantly regretted it.

Hunter's eyes went wide, and a vein on his neck began to pulse. Leon stared back at him with a level of defiance he knew defied both the social order and logic. Leon had always been brash, a trait now manifested in full force by the extreme comfort he felt in the gym due to his Gym Rat perk.

Cassy shot him a look asking if he was trying to get himself killed then turned to Hunter to defuse the situation. “Come on babe let's go.” 

Hunter heard none of it. He got right up in Leon's face so close Leon could smell the sweat on his body and the ZYN in his breath. “Listen here tubby, this is a gym. The McDonalds is down the street. Now fuck off or I’ll turn your happy meal into chicken tenders. Ya hear?” He stood up and started to walk away Cassy unhappily following after him. “And don’t ever talk to my girl again homo.”

Leon knew he should be scared but instead, he found the whole interaction funny, his “Gym Rat” perk really might be working too well. “Got any gym tips for me” he called after Hunter, wanting to still get something out of the interaction. He couldn’t wait till he was bigger than that arrogant prick and no one could talk to him that way.

The frat bro turned around “Eat a fucking salad” he called. Leon’s last quest remained incomplete. He wondered why for a second then realized it said “exchange workout tips.” 

“You should really get off the roids, it's killing the last two of your brain cells,” Leon called after him. Hunter moved to turn around, probably to beat the shit out of Leon but Cassy grabbed his hand and dragged him away. The quest completed and Leon reached level five. Not too bad for seven charisma he thought proudly. The now familiar ding sounded along with a wall of notifications. Leon began to feel strange. A biting ache began to thrum in the pit of his stomach. Doubled over Leon rushed to the bathroom, careful to head in in the opposite direction of Hunter and Cassy. 

He burst into the empty men's room and then into the nearest stall he could find. As he sat on the toilet the pain intensified. Something was happening and it hurt like all hell.

-

Edward had no idea why Trent had even started talking to him. That wasn’t something people ever did to ugly Edward, maybe point and whisper, but never strike up a conversation and surly never ask him for help. It must be his stupid charisma and perks scrambling everyone's brain he concluded. Edward was about to turn back to Trent and tell him he had made a mistake and that he actually couldn’t help him when he heard “Edward” yell from behind the bar. He saw Tag the sexy fit barista holding a steaming to-go cup and looking around the coffee shop for Edward. Trent gave him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.

Edward felt as if he was moving in slow motion like he was making his way to the gallows. Tag saw him coming and smiled, extending the drink towards him. Edward reached out to take the drink, his finger ever so slightly brushing up against Tag’s hand in the process. He wasn’t sure if it was the touch or just the proximity but he felt his new “Sage” perk activate in vivid detail.

A picture suddenly flashed in Edward’s mind. A subterranean location full of flashing lights and loud rhythmic music, a rave Edward realized. He saw Tag standing alone in an open button-down shirt showing off sexy tattooed muscles. Edward flashed back to reality. His sudden vision had caused him to linger a bit too long grabbing his drink and he jerked his hand away awkwardly. 

Edward retracted his hand and gave a smile hoping to save the moment. “Hey, are you going to the rave tonight?” Edward asked as casually as he could “I think I have seen you at a few before. I heard the one tonight is supposed to be especially hype.”

Tag seemed surprised for a moment then reassessed Edward his demeanor shifting from customer service friendly, to peer in-group easygoing. “You mean sewer fest? I want to man, but all my friends are busy tonight and I don’t want to go alone.”

“Oh damn that sucks,” Edward said. He was mindful of the stares he was getting from the other students around him but couldn’t bring himself to care, this was going too well. “I wish I could go but I have a paper I have to write tonight. My friend Trent was actually just saying he was thinking about going though.” Edward pointed back at Trent who gave a little wave. 

“Oh, I know him.” Tag said when he saw Trent. “That would be sick man. I really don’t want to miss Sewer Fest. How about this,” he took a cup sleeve and started to write on it, “Give your friend my number and tell him to text me” he handed it to Edward. 

“Will do. You two have fun” Edward said as he walked away. Trent looked at him wide-eyed and was about to say something but Edward made a signal that they shouldn’t talk about it inside.

“This is for you,” Edward said as he handed Trent Tag’s number once they were outside. 

“No way. You're actually a god. How did you do that?” Trent asked amazed.

“Don’t get too excited,” Edward said sheepishly. “You're going to a rave, and it’s in the sewer.” 

“A rave? You know what, I’ll take it. I really can’t thank you enough.” 

“Oh, it was nothing. Honestly, you helped me just as much as I helped you.”

Trent ignored the cryptic comment. “Well I should go, I guess I have to find an outfit to wear to a sewer. Would all white be a bad idea?” He handed Edward his phone. “Will you put your number in my phone? I’ll text you how tonight goes.” 

The two exchanged information then Trent left. Edward stood there sipping his latte, which really was too bitter. He saw Trent typing out a message on his phone as he walked away.

Moments later Edward heard a “ding” as the quest was completed and he reached level five. Notifications sprung up in his vision, more than usual. Edward couldn’t read them, he couldn’t focus on anything. His mostly full coffee slipped out of his hand and spilled onto the ground as a golden nebula sprung up around him and his face and body were wracked with pain. He started to scream.

[jedisupernova]

compress, repress (part iv) — kwon jiyong & choi seunghyun

summary it is said a lot can happen in one night, but what about two years? the three of you have ventured into different lanes: jiyong ascending into tennis superstardom whilst you and seunghyun make compromises to build a life together. there's only so much avoiding one can do, however, and so much tolerance the universe has before reality implodes.

notes minors dni contains challengers au (for my girls who know: the sauna scene, art crawling to tashi on the bed, challengers: match point), fem reader, unabashedly plus sized reader as i am myself but anyone can read, mainly takes place in the late 2000s (hence mentions of certain music, technology, media, etc.), takes place over the course of multiple years (from two years post-college to their mid-thirties,) tennisplayer!jiyong, tennisplayer!seunghyun, angst (dealing with a friendship break-up, description of accidental bodily injury, all three are at times depicted as not the greatest of people, insecurity, unresolved tension, avoidance, life-altering events, severing ties, this does not have a happy ending,) domesticity, fluff, smut (oral f receiving, p in v, sub!seunghyun,) i made up my own tennis tournament bc the actual olympic qualifications were too difficult to understand and write into this fic naturally so pls don't laugh at me, and some inevitable typos though some are purposeful.

author's note we made it . . . welcome to the fourth and final part of my challengers au 🍾 i cannot thank you enough for your love and enthusiasm for this series 🩷 its crazy that its coming to an end!! a brief disclaimer: these are only characters; in no way do i claim either would act this way in real life. please read the previous parts (linked below) or else you will be very confused! this is about the same length as part iii (long as fuck) so get comfy. it was bittersweet writing this. this part really goes into the sports drama of it all. please lmk what you think, my ask box is always open!! enjoy 🎾

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

the next six months were of visceral change. summer was avoidant: jiyong spending it either lodged in his bedroom and maintaining physical regiment on the tennis court. seunghyun spent copious amounts of time catching up on sleep—no longer riddled with complex equations and multi-part exam questions written in a different language—spending long afternoons at the court, ushering in the transition into going pro, and talking to you on the phone. these conversations took a more serious turn with each dial—talking of your future and how either of you desired to share it. “i got in touch with my former mentors at the academy i went to growing up,” he told you over the phone one afternoon, mouth full with cornflakes. “they say they know somebody willing to take me on as my coach.” he swallowed, wiping a drop of milk off his lip with the back of his hand, “to go pro.” “that sounds promising.” you said, kicking your feet up onto the couch. you meant it when you said summer was for turning your brain off. like seunghyun, you also slept in, taking time in making your perfect bagel before putting the view on the living room television at a low volume. “i’ve been thinking . . . if i’m going to be with a tennis player, i might as well know a thing or two about the game itself. because i’ll be honest. right now, i couldn’t give two shits.”

seunghyun let out a hearty laugh. “just wait until i get into wimbledon.” he ate his last spoonful. “then i’ll show you a real game, baby.” “i don’t want to be clueless.” “there’s no way with that brain of yours that you’ll ever be clueless about, like, anything.” your eyes diverted to the window, watching a bird land on a tree branch in the front yard. “there’s always a first time for everything, though.” seunghyun kissed his teeth, “you and your stubborn ass.” you smiled, “it's why you like me so much. it's like looking into a mirror.” “love.” he corrected. “i love you.” “i know you do.” you said. “i miss you. badly. horribly, one would argue.” an amused upside-down grin tugged at his lips, “you have no idea.” he said smoothly. you licked your lips, trying to subvert your warming face. seunghyun inadvertently did it for you: “what movies are on the docket today, hm?” “i haven’t had the chance to head to blockbuster yet.” you told him, hearing him hum on his side of the line. “but i’ll text you the titles once i do.”

"this is going to be my sixty-seventh time begging you to watch 'donnie darko.’” you let out a laugh, “i’ll make it a hundred.” seunghyun kept his phone to his ear with his shoulder, washing his dishes. “what’ll convince you, huh?” “well, first of all,” you said. “it's summertime. not purgatory.” “its art, though.” you waited for him to say sike. when he didn’t, you laughed harder, “you’re insane.” he raised his eyebrows, though a smile molded his mouth. “you’re annoying.” “that’s another thing you love, too.” “yeah, well—” he had a witty comeback in his arsenal, but the time on the oven decimated it. “shit—it's already 1:30?” he thought aloud. “i’m late for practice. i’ll call you later, baby.” “no problem.” “i love you dearly.” your vernacular rubbed off on him, hearing him give his blackberry’s receiver a big kiss goodbye. you laid there on the couch, amused: if seunghyun a year ago knew he’d be acting like this now, he’d break down in tears.

jiyong’s birthday came and went in august. many family, friends, and cousins were invited, so it made skirting around seunghyun easier. what he couldn’t avoid, however, was knowing it was most definitely you on the other end whenever he looked at his phone, or when seunghyun attempted to hide his smile after putting it back into his pocket. come autumn, though, seunghyun was up and out of town, down in berkeley to meet a group of possible coaches. when his birthday rolled around in november, he was back home for the party, shocking his relatives with the news he was moving to britain before the new year to begin training professionally: “i’ll be home for thanksgiving. but i’ll be leaving before christmas, unfortunately.” jiyong remembers his heart collapsing to his stomach, hands almost dropping his utensils. he looked to seunghyun’s parents, watching their bittersweet yet prideful expressions over their son’s mature decision for his future.

if things were different, jiyong would have been part of every fiber of seunghyun’s planning: helping him choose between coaches, sorting through housing options, making sure he’s surrounded by good people, etc. but now? he was just a stranger. a bystander. adjacent to a nobody. he kept it together, though he could feel seunghyun’s eyes on him for something. a twitch of an eyebrow, remnants of a grimace— anything. but jiyong continued eating without a word. “she's—she’s coming with me, yeah.” he overheard seunghyun tell his aunt. “my new coach got her in touch with a firm in london. helped her fax over her resumé, too. we’re in the middle of sorting our visas out, but everything’ll be fine. she’s really excited, yeah. her parents are too, thankfully.” laughs reverberated around the table, though jiyong didn’t lift his head. “she’s always wanted to live there. so i guess it worked out for her, y'know?”

others would argue your twenties are enviable, but you would immediately point to how quickly life became real for you. though you made a decision that in your gut you knew was not only the right one, but what you wanted to do (and you have the arguments with your parents to prove it,) it didn’t make it any less scary. let’s be clear: you were in a new country less than six months after you graduated college with a man you’ve been with for barely a year. objectively speaking, that’s fucking insane. most would think someone who’s spent her life thinking rationally in unpacking arguments wouldn’t make a decision that is nothing but brash. in that case, however, you would point to exhibits a through z: seunghyun’s undying devotion. he, who gladly went out of his way to find you a job, landing you an entry-level policy analyst position with a comfortable wage; lined up your work visa interviews to prep together and alleviate the nerves for something so intimidatingly complex; flew out to your hometown a few nights before you two were flying to england  (which he paid for too, by the way)—helping you pack and finalizing your arrangements.

seunghyun was fully aware of the sacrifices you continuously made to be with him and didn’t take it lightly whatsoever. he said his thanks in many ways: doing his best to ensure your cut of the rent was lower than his; covering the groceries; quickly showering after an intense practice to make a hot meal to eat together once you came home; paying for as many calling cards as you would ever need to phone family back home; ironing your work clothes and packing your lunch before leaving for his early morning run preceding training; and his utmost favorite, his tongue penning his routine letter of thanks to your clit, dutifully signed by his fingers kneading the plush of your thick thighs.

though it was a mere matter of time before he weighed your left hand down with a diamond, it felt as if the nuptials had already been signed off on. perhaps it was the level of trust necessary to keep what you two had going. not to mention, you came out swinging for one another, like how jiyong came out swinging at the australian open in january 2007. his added efforts and re-centered energy in training paid off big time, landing him the grand prize and into a different tax bracket overnight. his sudden star status combined with impressive academic credentials to back him at a young age incited an influx of sports press attention he had never received before, granting him the novel task of finding a manager. seunghyun hadn’t qualified for the australian open, opting to focus on the french open and wimbledon coming in the summer instead. your heart stopped beating when he won his final qualifying match, nearly launching out of your seat in the stands after the realization hit you. you hadn’t accumulated enough paid time off to cover the entirety of the two week tournament, though seunghyun was quick to assure you whilst he packed for paris: “i’ll stay in long enough for you to come see me.” he told you. “i’ll play good for you, baby.”

something shifted on your train ride from london to paris. it was early june, zeroing in on the last few days of the french open. seunghyun kept his promise: he was inching closer to the final rounds of the men’s singles. he called you every night to recap his day, including the uncomfortable parts: “jiyong walked out of the locker room when i was walking in today.” he said. one hand held his blackberry to his ear whilst the other worked his razor against his stubble, eyes trained on his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “he’s doing real well.” he muttered, rinsing his razor underneath the running water. he grinned to himself, “looks like a fuckin’ hot shot, too. even from the back.” as the scenic landscapes and buildings passed by you on the train, your face turned more stoic. your vision mimicked a tunnel. a feeling stirred in your gut—but what was it? nerves? maybe … well, it was seunghyun’s first professional event. maybe that’s it: it's your first chance to see if his hard work was going to pay off. on a famously prestigious stage, no less. but it’ll work out, right? right? you were ushered to your seat in the player’s box, reserved for the athletes’ families, friends, significant others, etc. seunghyun spotted you easily in the stands, waving with an unabashedly joyful smile. you blew a kiss before sitting down, readjusting how your sunglasses sat on your nose, happy that your hair was out of your face.

you remained straight-faced through his sets against the player from italy: relief exiting your nostrils whenever it went seunghyun’s way, your posture stiffening when it didn’t. from his recent games, you developed a foundational understanding of the mechanics of the sport. visual cues were your greatest aid, along with listening closely to the umpire—the official who enforces rules, makes decisions about plays, judgment calls, disciplinary actions, etc. you knew you made progress when grimacing at one of his calls against seunghyun. not because he’s your boyfriend, but because it was just wrong. you mentally logged questions to ask him, readjusting your posture as he and his opponent switched sides before starting the next odd-numbered set. it was seunghyun’s turn to serve. he got into position, placing the tennis ball in the center of the neck of the racket. beads of sweat trickled down the bridge of his nose, hitting the floor of the court. he took a deep breath, raising his racket into his service motion, but his inhale caught in his throat—descending into a coughing fit. it didn’t stop. the umpire called a time-out after seunghyun began wheezing, clutching his chest. concerned murmurs percolated around the court, all eyes on him whilst medics took his vitals, offering him an oxygen mask.

seunghyun accepted with a nod. he closed his eyes, taking his time to breathe. you closed your eyes, too, fingers rubbing your forehead, chin lowering. it's the cigarettes, your inner monologue just knew, the stress has been making him smoke more the usual. seunghyun was back on his feet ten minutes later, ensuring his throat was secure by drinking a generous amount of water. jiyong watched the whole thing go down from the locker room. he stood in front of the mounted television with his arms crossed over his chest, ignoring his mother ringing his cell. he never coughed like that when we played, he thought. jiyong ran his hands over his face, palm brushing past the nike logo on his custom-made sponsored polo. though the match was close, seunghyun wasn't completely there after coughing like that in public, handing italy a spot in the semi-finals. it was quiet that evening in seunghyun’s hotel room. he sat at the end of the untouched one of the two queen beds, head hung low with how elbows on his knees. he hadn’t changed out of his jersey nor taken his shoes off. you were stood, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed over your chest. he felt your stare. he heard your silence.

all you did was ask him a simple question: “do you want to win?” “i do.” he answered. “where are they?” “in my duffel. the left pocket.” “your lighter?” “in there, too.” you unzipped his duffel, collecting both items, walking out of the room. you entered the room at the end of the hall housing the ice machine, tossing his cigarettes and lighter into the garbage bin. seunghyun didn’t move, hearing your footsteps return to the room. “go shower.” you said, closing the door behind you. “our dinner reservations are at eight. it's six-thirty.” it took a moment, but he listened. he felt your hand between his pecs, beckoning his attention. “hey.” you spoke softly. your hand rode up his chest, palm molding against his cheek. seunghyun couldn’t help his fucking innate reaction, turning his head to kiss your palm, feeling the pad of your thumb lightly tug at his bottom lip. “i love you tenderly. always.” his lips parted, a shaky breath of what sounded like relief slipping between his teeth. “i love you dearly.” he whispered.

his forehead fell to yours. either of your mouths hovered the other’s, yet neither leaned in. you inched closer. seunghyun nearly retracted, not knowing what this kiss would do to him in such a vulnerable state. he trembled upon feeling your lips against his, kissing you back firmly and with fervor. his whimpering into your mouth was as pitiful as much as it was beautiful. he melted into you, inadvertently pushing your back against the wall. his hands found your hips, palms penning a letter of trust to your lower back. thus a new layer of your relationship was discovered, cemented by the tear escaping his closed eyes, trailing a messy line down your palm: you’re in this shit for life. you’re his for life. he’s yours for eternity; bed-bound to desire, a worshipper of the divine feminine. not co-dependent per sé, but symbiotic nonetheless. there’s no you without him, and there’s sure as fuck no him without you.

on your early sunday afternoon train ride home to london, jiyong was declared the winner of the french open—officially halfway to a grand slam—whilst seunghyun snored next to you, half of his face snuggly hidden behind his hoodie, working as a makeshift eye mask. upon returning home, he trained like a madman for the wimbledon qualifiers in london later that month. he ran more strategically in the mornings, purposefully working different muscles depending on the day; ran tennis drills like it was his life’s work, because it is; switched out a few of his supplements; fucked you harder to let out the pent-up energy and maintain a consistent sleeping schedule, and took up yoga to hone in on the key to maintaining demanding physical regiment was heavily dependent on mindset. he won his qualifiers with flying colors, all the while gnashing nicorette like a motherfucker in-between. this time, he made it to the semi-finals—and nearly went up against jiyong, your inner monologue reminded you—but was tapped out by a seasoned player from ireland. “he offered to buy me a pint when we ran into each other after the game.” seunghyun told you on the taxi ride home. “but i said i just really wanted to see my girl right now.” after helping him set up and naturally warmed up after his ice bath, seunghyun settled into your shared bed, taking a much-needed nap on your chest.

two days later, on the living room television in your shared flat, jiyong accepted the trophy for wimbledon’s gentleman’s singles. he looked and was triumphant, holding the silver-git cup in the air, smiling so hard seunghyun could feel it on his face. you read jiyong’s surname—embroidered on the side of his nike baseball cap—as he took a photo with members of the british royal family who were in attendance. you both watched from behind the kitchen counter in mutual silence. the bottom of seunghyun’s ceramic mug scraped against the counter, taking a sip of his coffee. ��all he needs is the open,” he muttered, referring to the final major championship taking place in the united states come august, and also the last one needed for jiyong to win a grand slam, “and then he’s got it.” you hummed in acknowledgement, eyes trained on the screen. there it was: your unspoken language. the same cogs turned in either of your heads. you wanted to win and you wanted it bad, though seunghyun had a different plan: “i wanna skip the open.” you turned to look at each other at the same time. he read your mind: “to focus on the olympics.” you learned a lot in these last six months, particularly when it came to how complicated qualifications are for prestigious tournaments. to qualify for the olympics tennis tournament, for example, it is determined by many factors like national rankings, but also participation in team competitions.

jiyong’s post-game press conference played in the background. “do you think you can get on the team?” you asked. “i will.” said seunghyun, looking you dead in the eye. you stared right back at him, “does this sound like a smart idea to you?” “yes.” “how about here?” you rubbed his stomach through his shirt, referring to his gut. he was stubborn, “yes.” “fine then. i trust you.” you said. “get to work.” “i will.” and he did—tenfold. he used his earnings from competing in france and london to bring on a new team equipped with a like-minded nutritionist and physiotherapist, respectively. sooner than later, you mimicked his routine. seunghyun reached over, turning his alarm off at 5:30 am. it was barely light outside, yet you were already up, applying body lotion in the mirror. you topped yourself off with body oil, the vanilla scent rubbing off on his bare back. your touch woke him up, “good morning, my love.” you leaned down, kissing his warm temple. “i’ll get your smoothie ready.” he mumbled something in response, exhaustion meddling in his words. “let’s go.” you called out as you left your shared bedroom, heading to the kitchen. seunghyun groaned, getting up soon after.

your morning routine was the exact same for seven months straight: get up, shower, wake up seunghyun, prepare his breakfast smoothie, pack your lunch, make your breakfast, and observe his physiotherapy session before going to work. you weren’t an expert by any means, but knew enough from shadowing about where his pressure points were. it came in handy whenever a knot in his shoulder kept him from sleeping, hearing his tears of relief muffled by his pillow after your elbow dug into him just the right way. his coach lent you footage of seunghyun’s past matches, reviewing them in your spare time. you eventually started showing up to weekend practices, too. you fed him tennis balls from the net, calling out shots: “inside in! line! inside out! inside in! line! line!” seunghyun hustled from side-to-side, hitting the cones you set up along the court as targets. every ice bath ended with cuddles; petty arguments ranged from him being upset you wouldn’t be able to make it to his practice to you calling him out for finishing your moisturizer; if he was pissed at his coach over some petty disagreement, seunghyun would purposefully make himself late to practice the next morning: spending the extra time fucking you from below, sending you to work with glossed eyes and a firmer grip on the grab bars in the london tube.

without a shadow of a doubt, however, your days ended in conversation, wrapped in bed. sometimes serious: “do you think we’ll ever find time for ourselves?” “of course we will, baby. what makes you think that?” “my world revolves around you and tennis. and i want to get married someday.” “well, mine revolves around you, too. and we will. it's only a matter of time.” sometimes sweet: “something’s in my eye,” seunghyun rubbed his left one whilst laid next to you in bed, diverting your attention, “been bothering me since i was in the shower.” he stopped rubbing, blinking a few times to adjust his vision. he looked at his finger, flicking something away, “just an eyelash.” he muttered. you grinned to yourself, “they’re so heavy they blind you, hm?” his face warmed immediately, soon burying his nose into your neck. “you can’t just say shit like that so casually, baby…” he drew out his syllables, trying to avert his sheepishness, but failing miserably.

you chuckled, hand reaching into his hoodie, fingers carding through his hair. “they are very pretty.” you said. “your eyelashes, i mean.” “stop.” “what? i look at your eyes, like, all the time.”; or when you’re telling him about a disagreement between your co-workers, elbow on your pillow, palm against your temple propping your head up as he laid on his pillow, listening intently. “and then he—” you glanced in his direction, cutting yourself off. seunghyun’s eyes were soft, a small yet faint smile on his face as he listened to the love of his life ramble about her day, the sweetest expression on his face. “don’t.” you covered his eyes, feeling warmth creep up your neck. “don’t look at me like that.” he let out a giggle, manuevering out of your grip. “like what, huh?” he asked knowingly. “i’m just using my eyes, baby.” “use them elsewhere.” seunghyun sat up on his elbow, dousing your cheek in kisses, arm around your waist keeping you close to him. “i make my baby so shy, hm?”

jiyong fell to his knees, breaking down in tears after hitting the winning shot at the us open, clutching himself a grand slam. the cameras caught his parents in the crowd, his father holding onto his mother tightly, the pride so overwhelming that her muscles temporarily gave out. seunghyun’s parents were in the player’s box, too, buying the bottles of expensive champagne at the celebratory dinner that evening. jiyong’s relatives went around the table, making speeches regarding the pride he’s brought to the family name. “it's the one thing you wish for when you have children.” his father said, teary eyed. “and he’s done it. and knowing him, he’ll continue to.” when it was seunghyun’s father’s turn, he kept his son out of his sentimental remarks, though how he ended it was telling of their rift has affected either family: “and—and . . .” he came to a brief pause. “if only. if only he was. . .” he nodded, unable to say the words, hands characteristically behind his back, settling back into his seat. jiyong nodded to himself, cutting into his steak without another word. a year ago, he was a heartbroken nobody. now, he was a fresh-faced millionaire with a budding agenda: “i’ll see you in beijing.” he winked to the cameras before leaving his post-game press conference, ushered into a van by us open security.

despite his newfound fame, jiyong kept a close circle, ranging from his family and a few friends. besides a few fleeting anecdotes from his relatives at holiday dinners, he hadn’t kept tabs on you and seunghyun all that much. it was very different in those first few months, however: jiyong checked both yours and seunghyun’s facebooks borderline obsessively when you first moved to london. he was craving proximity that was once his, blinking away tears before heading to his practice court, or completely succumbing to them in bed whilst looking through old photo albums him and seunghyun compiled on his family’s computer. though his best friend was alive and well, jiyong couldn’t shake the feeling that someone he loved dearly had passed into the next life. it felt as if part of him went missing and he didn’t know how to put the pieces together again.

he had to rewire his brain, reminding himself his go-to person wasn’t there for him anymore, and he wasn’t there for him, either. it made his past break-ups look like child’s play in comparison to the deepening abyss in his chest. there was some closure between him and seunghyun, but jiyong still had a million questions. knowing seunghyun his entire life, jiyong knew he would have a million and one, but neither made the move to contact the other, and didn’t plan on it. though they weren’t talking, the metaphorical threads tying them together remained tightly-bound: evident in their dependence on the court to absorb their pain and frustration; re-focusing their energy to lift this indescribable weight off their chests; taunting themselves with the what ifs before falling asleep at night.

jiyong had to protect his peace before flying to australia for the open. he unfriended you before you found out whether you were admitted at oxford for your master’s. he unfriended seunghyun after he posted a status about qualifying for the french open. his body remembers the trauma from the night in the parking lot, but instead of shutting down, he exhumes the frustration with the meanest grunts ever heard after performing a stellar back-handed swing, hurling his opponent in a loop. 2007 was his year for re-centering and conquering, and he did just that. jiyong just kept his mind on the next thing as he finished another, focused yet charmingly sweet in interviews, earning him more fans with the delicate bunch of his cheeks every time his wide, sheepish smile appeared at the mere mutter of a compliment. as an athlete, he was quickly gaining respect and acclaim to his name as a professional, but did not let that get to his head.

he stayed grounded at home, oftentimes speaking with his mother about his worries. though there was only so much a mother could do: “seunghyun would know what to do,” she told him one afternoon over lunch. by the look on her face, jiyong could tell she’s been meaning to mention him. she did it periodically: “don’t you think?” on seunghyun’s end, it was the same: “have you told jiyong about your olympic training?” his father asked him over the phone. “he’s doing it, too. his coach is spectacular.” “i know.” said seunghyun, keeping his phone to his ear with his shoulder, opening the window in your shared bedroom to filter in some fresh air. “and no, i haven’t told him. we don’t talk, remember?” his father huffed, “the three of you are so stubborn.” he tsked. “you’re too mature to let something ruin your friendship. especially when you’ve all built such good lives for yourselves. be adults, i beg of you.”

you and seunghyun celebrated new year’s 2008 at a pub in dublin. he finally took his opponent at wimbledon up on his offer for a pint, spending the rest of the three day weekend being tourists before boarding the plane home. it was officially olympics year, meaning extensive conversations with his coach regarding qualifiers, matches, and travel for the upcoming summer. it was settled that come april, seunghyun would compete at the national championships in oregon back in the states, hopefully earning him a spot in the olympic trials in june in new york city—a month before the opening ceremony in beijing. it was a quick turn-around period, but: “we’ve worked way too hard to get nervous now.” you told him, passing the necessary spices to season the roast chicken you two were making for dinner. “plus, i’ve accumulated way too much pto to let it go to waste. you’re gonna show up and decimate the fuck out of those bitches.” and that seunghyun fucking did—making you jump out of your seat and clutch your chest upon his securing a spot for new york. “yes!” you yelled from your gut, clapping your hands approvingly like a suburban father watching his team at the super bowl, “that’s what the fuck i’m talking about!”

the first time jiyong saw you or seunghyun face-to-face after nearly two years was at those championships. he flew to oregon a week before everyone else to get good practices in—his qualifying match for the olympics trials being the next day. at first, it was passive. he was a good enough distance away having just walked out of the bathroom and into the bustling crowd emerging between the day’s matches. but then, he caught his mother’s eye. she hoped to usher in a good-faith reunion: “over here!” she called to her son. seunghyun’s father caught her drift, his eyes lighting up at the possibility, waving jiyong over, too. jiyong glanced at you and seunghyun, seeing you both in conversation with his seunghyun’s mother. seunghyun was still so sweaty from his match, using the back of his hand to move strands of hair stuck to his forehead. his mother gestured for you two to turn around. the air shifted. it wasn’t comfortable, yet it wasn’t entirely horrible. almost bittersweet: “hey, man.” seunghyun’s tone was bland, unsure of where they stood with so much time having passed. though his eyes held warmth, “congrats on the grand slam.” “congratulations, jiyong.” you added amicably, you and your boyfriend nodding cordially. “thanks.” jiyong murmured, offering a tight-lipped expression before immediately looking away.

to jiyong’s fortune, one of the many professional photographers working the event asked for a group photo, diverting the attention away from him. either family got into an appropriate position: you and seunghyun on the left end, jiyong on the far right; on opposite ends, ironically enough. another was taken of just you and seunghyun with his family—the two of you posed in the middle. in his periphery, seunghyun saw jiyong look away entirely. he thought it was pitiful. can’t even look me in the eye, huh? his inner monologue tsked. after all this time? he checked his watch, “baby?” “yeah?” “car’ll be here soon.” seunghyun let you know, seeing you nod. he turned to his parents, “are we all going for dinner tonight?” he gestured to the entire group. “i think jiyong’s family has their own plans.” his mother relayed. “that’s fine.” said seunghyun. “our reservation’s at seven-thirty. don’t forget. and remind dad, too.” he looked for you over his shoulder, gesturing that it was time to head out. you both said your goodbyes for the day, switching between polite waves and brief hugs. the door you needed to head out of was coincidentally in jiyong’s direction. he couldn’t stomach turning around when you two walked past him. a subtle one-sided, amused grin tugged at seunghyun’s lips. he shook his head, just completely over it. jiyong froze, feeling seunghyun’s palm pat his shoulder, “see you in new york, ji.”

jiyong’s eyes widened. chills ran down his spine, looking over his shoulder, seeing seunghyun hold the door open for you before taking your hand in his. he spoke to me like nothing happened, his thoughts ran a mile a minute. like it was just another fucking day. the fuck is his deal? and the way he spoke, too … so knowing … so … definite. like he knew something jiyong didn't—a dynamic-defining imbalance between them ever since they were kids. seunghyun could’ve been referring to jiyong’s grand slam, thus making his advancement to the olympic trials a no-brainer, but still. it's like he has something planned, jiyong thought, albeit irrationally. the strange, contradictory feelings of annoyance coupled with an odd sense of relief toyed between his temples. some part of him felt at ease that seunghyun spoke to him to begin with, let alone like the brothers they once were. mourning their friendship hasn’t been linear. jiyong was smart enough to understand what he felt, that it was normal to wish things went back to as they once were whilst acknowledging it would never be the same again. too many feelings unaddressed. too much time passed. but still, his inner monologue remained stubborn. he feels so familiar. after all this time.

seunghyun took his time drying off after his ice bath, attempting to warm his body back up gradually. he came out of the bathroom of your hotel suite twenty minutes later, rifling through his luggage for a fresh pair of boxers. he came over to you on the bed, settling into his routine laying on your chest, but without the duvet. for now, at least. his teeth quietly chattered, feeling your palms dotingly rub up and down his bare back, trying to soothe his goosebumps. “i’m okay.” he assured. “i know you are.” you said gently. “think you want the blanket now?” “y-yes, please.” his nose burrowed into the side of your neck, pressing a kiss of gratitude onto your skin once his teeth ceased chattering. you both unpacked your afternoon, seunghyun addressing the elephant in the room without hesitation: “didn’t even spare one fucking glance.” he grumbled about jiyong. “is it too much to ask for? i mean, we haven’t seen each other in two fucking years.” “i mean,” you began, fingers combing his hair back. “the last time you saw him, he found out you fucked his ex-girlfriend. and that i cheated on him with you. and that we were dating behind his back.” “but it's been two years.” “wounds don’t heal easily for some people. do they for you?” “are you asking if i miss him?” “i think you bringing it up answers your own question, seunghyun.”

he sighed, knowing you were right. “of course i miss him. he was the literal other side of my brain.” he said. “none of that ‘two peas in a pod’ shit. we were like night and day—complementary.” you hummed, letting him know you were listening. “its not like i’ve forgotten him. you know me, baby. i haven’t.” “you haven’t, yeah.” you affirmed. “right,” said seunghyun. “so—i mean, i didn’t think things would be back to—back to normal, or whatever. but i just…” he fell silent. “i don’t know, baby.” “its fine not to know how you feel.” you assured. “or not know how to describe it.” “no—i know how i feel,” seunghyun corrected, arms wrapping around your waist. “its just that … i don’t how how he feels. does that make sense?” “it does.” you said. it was quiet for the next few minutes, nothing but the white noise of the air conditioning percolating in your ears. you looked down, seeing the top of seunghyun’s head. he was comfortably warm now, melting into you. something you meant to bring up earlier crossed your mind: “did you see the look on his face when you touched his shoulder?” seunghyun lifted his head, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you. “no.” he shook his head. “did you?” you nodded, thumb tracing the temporary sleep lines on his face from laying on your wrinkled shirt. “what’d he look like, baby?” your eye contact didn’t waver, “like a deer in headlights.”

seunghyun didn’t like the sound of that. he kept his front up, “he did?” his tone was leveled. you nodded, seeing right through the well-hidden quiver in his eyes, “mhm.” “oh.” the volume of his voice lowered to a perishable degree, returning his temple to your chest, “okay.” as expected, jiyong clinched the last spot to new york with ease. his post-game press conference was brief, much of it spent trying to say his thoughts coherently in the midst of patting his sweat dry with a towel and leveling his adrenaline. he downed water in the van whilst on the way back to his hotel, grimacing at the aftertaste of the energy gel he ate during a set break just wouldn’t wash away. he glanced at the rearview mirror, eyebrows furrowing at the unexpected sight of three motorcycles tailing him. is that—are those paparazzi? he wondered, perplexed. the car came to a gradual halt at a traffic light. jiyong rolled down his window, peeking his head out, but quickly retracted, caught off guard by how quickly they sped up; camera shutter going off. jiyong put his window back up with haste, i knew that i was known, but does this mean i’m famous? and in the middle of oregon?? he sunk into his seat, grateful the windows were blacked out, and the speed in which the traffic light turned green. a little shaken up, he hurried into his hotel, back in the quiet of his suite. he took his nokia out of his duffel, phoning his mother: “i think i just got paparazzied.” “paparazzied? is that even a word?” “it is now, mom. do you think i need a bodyguard?” “maybe. i’ll call your accountant today to see how much it’ll cost, and loop in your manager.”

the distance was far, but the parallels went farther. “seunghyun?” you called to him from the bedroom of your flat. he was in the kitchen making dinner, feeling fresh and clean from his post-practice shower, “yeah?” “could you see if the washing’s done? and put it in the dryer, and bring what's in the dryer to our room?” “you got it, baby.” he put the pasta on a low simmer, walking past the living room, opening the closet housing both appliances. “here we are.” he kicked the door open enough to let him and the filled laundry basket inside, setting it atop the duvet. “i can fold these for you after dinner.” “s'fine.” you waved your hand in assurance. though it was a week and a half away from flying to new york, you slowly started packing, knowing the closer it got the crazier the time crunch would become. you stepped around your open luggage on the carpeted floor, peering into the basket with your hands on your hips, “need to sift through this for a few things.” you told him, seeing him nod in your periphery. “do you think it's too hot to wear my creme blouse tomorrow?” “the long sleeve one?” “mhm.” “might be,” he thought aloud. “i read the humidity’ll be up.” “shit.” you bit the inner part of your lip in thought. “i washed that thinking i’d wear it. whatever. i’ll figure it out.”

you lifted your head, looking at your boyfriend. so much had gone down in the last two years, yet the sight of the kt tape on his wrist stilled the world for a brief moment. so much sacrifice, so much compromise, and copious trial-and-tribulation, all leading up to next week. you saw the work in his calloused hands; determination in his pilled sunscreen; devotion as his love language. he ran a hand through his hair, completely clueless to your softening heart whilst he scratched a itch on his temple. “seunghyun?” he met your eyes, “yeah, baby?” “you know i’m really proud of you, right?” he couldn’t stop his bashful smile if he wished upon a shooting star. he tucked into himself, crossing his arms over his chest, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “course i know.” he muttered, glancing at the floor. “i wouldn’t want nothing else from my baby.” you grinned, feeling your heart stutter. he turned towards you, unfolding his arms at the feeling of your hand riding up his chest, palm settling against his cheek. the way he looked at you would make the stars alternate their gravitational pull in creation of your constellation. you both let out an exhale, his hands finding your lower back, breath warm against your neck. he pressed kisses on your supple skin, spelling out his gratitude up to your cheek. “m'real fucking proud of you, too.” he spoke lowly, voice like honey. “you’re built different. not everyone could do what you do. no one has a head like yours, baby.” you chuckled, “at least you’re aware.”

seunghyun smirked, vibrations from his laugh tickling your cheek. “of course i am.” he affirmed. “c'mere.” he kissed you sweetly. you reconnected your lips with intent, hand slipping into his hair, keeping him close to you. seunghyun gradually broke the kiss, lips doting on your forehead before returning to your gaze. “i love you so much.” “i love you, too.” you were quick to respond. your knuckles softly grazed down his cheek, pad of your thumb gently pushing against his chin, making his lips bunch together briefly. a low chuckle rang from his chest, making you laugh sweetly, too. suddenly, your mind worked in flashes, reminding you of what may lay ahead. some call it anxiety, others call it being prepared. you would say it was being realistic, whereas seunghyun took it as a sign. “something’s on your mind.” he clocked it immediately. “you have that look in your eye.” your eyebrows furrowed, buying yourself time. “what look do i have?” “the same one you had when i told you i wanna skip the open.” he said, “and when i wanted another guinness on new year’s.” you tsked, amused by the memory. “you don’t tend to hold your alcohol well.” he smiled, “probably would’ve maxed out my credit card buying pints for everyone on the block.”

comfortable silence brewed. you held his face in your hands. he could practically see the thoughts swirling around in that head of yours. his lips doted on your palm, moving to your inner wrist. “tell me, baby. i’m here.” the pasta could wait: “what if you end up playing jiyong, hm?” seunghyun’s face dropped somewhat. “you got close at wimbledon.” seunghyun nodded, though didn’t provide a direct answer to your question, “i know.” you didn’t prolong his chance to avoid it, your eyes spelling out something different: be honest with me. it took seunghyun a moment, but he licked his lips, nodding. “i’d beat him.” “okay.” you said. you leaned in closer, honing in: “but what would you do?” he knew exactly what you were asking: his personal reaction; any individual vendettas that could come out the moment he hears of his opponent. you weren’t looking for the correct answer per sé, but more-so where seunghyun’s head was at. like always, he read your mind: “i’d keep my shit straight.” not a fraction, let alone an iota of hesitation was present in his tone. “i’ve been working too hard to let something petty fuck it up.” you were surprised by his word choice, though you didn’t show it on your face: he thinks what went down that night is petty now? your inner monologue voiced. or is this the man in mourning i’m speaking to?

you didn’t give it much thought, knowing seunghyun needed your assurance. “okay.” you nodded, tone soft. “i trust you.” he kissed you, tilting his head to the left upon the re-connect, deepening it with intention. you breathed him in through your nostrils, a subtle yet brief squeak erupting between your mouths. “when we get back from beijing,” seunghyun said against your lips, “we’re getting married.” your chuckle made chills run down his spine, “don’t surprise me with a connecting flight to vegas.” jiyong, on the other hand, was in the passenger’s seat of his father’s car. he had offered to take him to practice that day, spending the thirty minute commute in either amicable quiet, muttering something about a song on the radio, or what his coach was planning.

it was reflective of his childhood, though now there was a new air of respect with his acclaimed status as a decorated professional athlete. there were rarely any comparisons made—twelve year old jiyong fighting for his dignity at the academy would never believe him at twenty-four—but with prestige, comes minimal sugar-coating. his father gradually applied less pressure on the pedal, stopping at the yellow-turned-red traffic light. a feeling stirred in his gut, “i think you’re going to play against seunghyun in new york.” jiyong looked out the window, not wanting to give the possibility power. let alone admit that he’s contemplated it, too, “what makes you say that?” “you two have avoided each other long enough.” his father said. he pulled into the training center, unlocking the car doors as jiyong unbuckled his belt. “it's a matter of time before you’re forced to face each other.”

the tournament was cutthroat. 48 of the country’s best tennis players—24 men and 24 women—fighting to the brink for the next two weeks. the first week was to weed half of them out, the second for determining who had the chance to play for a medal the following month. a competing nation can send no more than twelve qualified athletes (six men, six women) to compete across the olympic tennis events. in other words: you lose, you’re out. it was easy money for seunghyun that first week. he built a routine for himself after overcoming the jet lag: get up, go on a morning run in central park, return to your hotel suite for a shower before ordering breakfast; or on mornings where his pheromones dripped off him (it's been reported high intensity workouts can increase libidos, and you can attest to that with being his girlfriend) he claps those cheeks like the goddess you are or makes the bed creak as his hips rut into yours, all whilst your omelettes and fruit platters are being prepared in the kitchen, finishing your shared shower just in time to open the door for room service, kissing you sweetly before heading to the national tennis center to do his warm-up drills, looking to you in the stands in every in-between moment during his match; you sat next to his parents, nodding to one another in your unspoken language only discernible by either of you, sending his opponents’ sorry ass home, setting his mind and pumping adrenaline right in the sauna every other day afterward, lulling you both to sleep with either your fingers carding through his hair or his tongue lapping your clit, repeat. he survived that first week with flying colors, spending the weekend regulating his nervous system with you and his family.

jiyong had a great week, too. his parents stayed with him in the penthouse suite he rented for those two weeks in manhattan, ending his days with a hasty throw of his duffel onto the couch after letting his bodyguard off for the night, starting his mornings at six am sharp, heading to the gym after having a protein shake. he didn’t give his opponents a fighting chance. jiyong didn’t go many post-game interviews either, thinking it would jinx his chances of getting a spot on the olympic team, often booking it to the locker room after hitting the winning shot. to his astonishment, he didn’t physically see seunghyun the entire week. though he saw his name on rosters whilst speaking with his coach regarding changing certain plays with certain players—but jiyong kept his focus in the right place, at least to him.

he saw you, however—sat in the stands after seunghyun won his match in the middle of the intensive first week, speaking with his seunghyun’s mother whilst the court was swept and prepped for jiyong’s match. you didn’t see him, getting up and leaving the player’s box soon afterward, but jiyong eyes stayed on you the whole way through. he hated the fact he knew you were going home to seunghyun—but none more than the realization that it still pestered him to this day. sure, one could argue everyone has the one thing that never sits right with them no matter how much time passes. but jiyong felt straight-up childish. so much in his life had changed these last two years . . . why was his mind trying to convince him it could all be thrown away at the mere sight of you? he kissed his teeth, running his hand over his face, re-centering himself before picking up his racket, proceeding with his warm-ups.

at the start of week two, a showdown between jiyong and seunghyun felt it was coming to fruition. it was especially pertinent after seunghyun won his match on monday. he saw the look on your face when joining you in bed tuesday night—the evening before his match that would really solidify the line up. he read your mind: “i know, baby.” he spoke lowly. he got underneath the fluffy duvet with you, kissing your forehead tenderly. you let out a long exhale, feeling his hand make residence on your lower back. his palm soothed you, his lips finding your forehead once more, “everything’ll be okay.” “i just worry about you, seunghyun.” you said candidly. he hummed in acknowledgement. “you’ve put so much into this.” “we’ve put a lot into this.” he subtly corrected. “i won’t be the one to fuck it up for the both of us. you get me?” “i do.” “good.” he pressed doting kisses to your cheek and neck, “get some rest f'me. i need all of you tomorrow.” “c'mere.” you beckoned gently, fingers pulling at his bare shoulder. “need to hold you, baby.” seunghyun didn’t hesitate, laying between your legs wordlessly, resting his temple on your chest. light snores followed after your fingers began combing through his hair. you fell asleep relatively quickly as well, head comfortable on the pillow.

jiyong, however, didn’t want to hear it. he could smell it from across the table at dinner—either of his parents giving him a knowing look similar to yours. ironically enough, he said the same thing seunghyun did, just with different tonality. “i know what you’re thinking.” jiyong said curtly without looking up, cutting into his steak. “i know you wanna say i told you so. go ahead.” “it's not about who’s right and who’s wrong, jiyong.” his mother tried to ease the tension. “we just—we just miss you two. being together.” “i know you do,” jiyong said, taking a sip of his water. “even if you don’t say it, i see it on your face everyday.” “can you blame us?” his father interjected. “two years and we still don’t know why you and him parted ways. what could’ve been so bad that even his parents won’t tell us clearly?” jiyong let his father’s words hang in the air, stubborn. “was it really because of—because of some girl? that you threw a lifetime of friendship away?” jiyong put his utensils down, taking a deep breath. “it's more complicated than that.” “you’ve made all this money,” his father gestured around the luxurious restaurant, “yet you still can’t afford some common sense?” jiyong’s head shot up, looking at his father sharply. “will anything be enough for you?” his mother jumped in, extinguishing the fire: “thats enough.” both backed down, though his father wanted the last word. “you’ll see.” he muttered. jiyong’s knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping his fork. “sooner or later, you’ll wake up.”

seunghyun won his match wednesday morning, cementing a place in his final match come friday. with how names were drawn and the order of matches were decided, seunghyun’s match was going to be for the final spot on the olympic team. you two rushed back to the hotel, keen on watching the afternoon match on television—the winner to be seunghyun’s opponent. fate would have it: seunghyun was stoic after jiyong made his winning shot, his arm stiffening around your shoulders. he was taken out of his head in the feeling your temple resting against his shoulder, a long exhale deflating your chest. neither of you spoke. he grabbed your hand, letting his kisses to the back of it speak for him. you responded by sitting up, bringing his lips to yours. “i love you.” he whispered. he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your neck before wrapping his arms around your waist. you accepted his embrace, “i know you do.” your arms found him, palm rubbing tenderly up and down his back before settling on the back of his head. seunghyun’s grip around you tightened, burrowing his face into your neck protectively. “i love you too.” you spoke softly, hearing and feeling his vulnerable huff.

thursday was as normal as seunghyun could make it. in an effort to not completely obliterate his nervous system, he treated it like any other day. the humidity wasn’t so bad that morning, making his run in central park a breeze. after washing up, he made the sweetest of love to you: fingers intertwined over your head, hips rutting into yours poetically. you took up as much space as you wanted, spreading your legs as far as your body could handle so early in the morning, sprawled out in a way that made renaissance painters envious. seunghyun was a mess in your ear, somewhere between panting and whimpering. “f-feel so fucking good—g-goddamn.” his voice quivered, bed creaking underneath his knees. “you gonna—” you cut yourself off, suddenly feeling how dry your throat was. you swallowed quickly, “you gonna cum for me?” “y-yes!” he mewled, toes curling into the air, his hands gripping yours tighter. he didn’t halt his thrusts, “c-can i? can i cum, baby? pl—please—mmph!—please le—lemme cum.” “let go of my hands.” “wh—what? o-okay.” seunghyun halted his thrusts, letting go of your hands, swiftly sucking in a breath, pulling out temporarily. you turned onto your stomach, turning your pillow vertically to rest on it comfortably, spreading your knees as far as you could.

seunghyun got the message, knees dipping into the bed, closer to you. his bottom lip was caught between his teeth, palms kneading both large cheeks of your ass, watching the right recoil after a characteristic smack. you re-adjusted how you laid, inadvertently deepening the arch in your back. seunghyun separated your puffy lips with his condom-wrapped tip, gradually pushing back in. you gasped, expression sinful: “fuck!��� your mouth was agape. “thats so fucking d-deep!” you gasped again, mind stirring the more his cock was inside of you. “you’re so fucking d-deep—oh my god. y-yes—” you praised, voice falling meekly, overwhelmed with how whorish you suddenly felt. seunghyun wasn’t any better. his eyes were glossy, unable to look away from your ass, or his dick disappearing into heaven. “sh—shit. . .” his voice shook, swallowing harshly. “s-shit, baby. y-you’re so fucking hot. i—i can’t take it.” he looked like he was about to cry, but didn’t stop himself. you felt so fucking good. “i can’t handle you, baby.” he whimpered, letting out a small cry, bottoming out. his voice cracked, throwing his head back, “oh my god!” “i n-need you to give it to me,” you said, breathing heavily. you looked over your shoulder, catching him in your periphery, “i need you to give it to me like the good boy i know you are, s-seunghyunnie.”

the clapping was heard from the elevator—clear as day to your hotel neighbors, who hated either of your guts. your arms wrapped around your pillow for dear life. your boyfriend listened to you diligently, as he always did, pummeling you from behind. he rendered himself mute, eyebrows stuck in a perpetual furrow with his jaw hung open, eyes glued to your globes recoiling lewdly against his pelvis, hands firm on your waist. seunghyun alternated between grabbing your ass or lush waist to propel his thrusts, nearly thrown off track when you reached behind you to grab his wrist, egging him on. your constant moans and lewd cries of pleasure didn’t help the illustrious horny haze enveloping his brain; contracting his muscles to go faster, making you stuff your face into your pillow. he whined aloud pathetically, “am i d-doing good? am i—f-fuck! ngh! a-argh!—am i g-giving it to you like a good boy?” his athletic strength was no joke, humbling you after all this time. it was delectable: feeling your thighs jiggle with every thrust, ass clapped so good seunghyun finally figured out why it's been looking even better than usual these days. you lifted your head, trying your best to maintain your balance. “you’re g-gonna make me a mess,” your voice shook. “you’re gonna make a mess of me, seunghyunnie.” you drew out your syllables, biting your bottom lip, moaning every time your body was launched an inch back-and-forth with his thrusts. “i-i’m gonna cum!” he exclaimed. “p-please—lemme cum. i’m so c-close—” “keep going. m'c-close t-t-too—oh fuck!”

seunghyun sat in the sauna in peaceful silence. another arduous day of training in the books, capping it off with relaxing his back against the wall; head and periphery covered with a towel, eyes closed, taking his breaths in and out: entering his routine meditative state. hearing the door open, he adjusted the towel around his waist. seunghyun thought the heat went to his head: it was jiyong. he nearly backed out, though seunghyun spoke too soon: “all the other ones are full.” he said. “i’m all you got.” jiyong clenched his jaw, taking the loss. he stepped inside wordlessly, making sure his towel was secure around his waist, taking a seat on the other side of the room. his eyes were avoidant, steady on the wooden floor tiles. “could you—” jiyong cleared his throat. “could you pour water on the rocks.” his voice was so monotone no question mark was detected in his inflection, “it's not hot enough in here.” seunghyun purposefully let his words hang in the air, a darkly humorous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “not hot enough for you?” he saw jiyong’s eyes flicker, but not meet his. “what? you made some money and now you think you’re too good to do it yourself?” jiyong kissed his teeth, getting up. he grabbed the ladle, looking into seunghyun’s eyes for the first time in two years: “do you mind?” jiyong asked the rhetorical question with a bite of unabashed attitude. seunghyun didn’t say a word, laying his head back, closing his eyes. he heard the rocks steam and jiyong’s bare feet patter.

in the awkward silence, seunghyun couldn’t help himself: “congrats on becoming an olympic trials finalist.” he said, a shit-eating grin stretching his lips at his own joke. he opened his eyes, straightening his posture to look at jiyong whom still wasn’t looking at him. “or did some bushy-tailed reporter tell you that already?” jiyong didn’t say anything. “too good to talk too, huh?” seunghyun took the towel off his head, using it to gently dab his perspiring forehead and temples. “we’ve been here a week and have barely said two words to each other, ji.” “don’t call me that.” seunghyun raised his eyebrows, “what? your name?” “ji.” jiyong corrected sharply. “you don’t get to call me that.” seunghyun was dismissive, “you’re being dramatic.” it was jiyong’s turn to raise his eyebrows in disbelief, “am i really?” “no, yeah. really.” seunghyun nodded. “why’re you still so angry with me? i won’t buy it if you said its 'cause of,” the mention of your name made jiyong’s skin crawl. “or what happened with her. its been two years. i think you’re just disturbed by the fact that she could’ve been—i mean, is—into someone like me.” seunghyun didn’t know why he came out swinging. he knew it was partly from the frustration he’s felt from their severed friendship and no-contact over the years—tipped off by jiyong’s disregard for any iota of professionalism in oregon. he didn’t want to inadvertently say i got her and you didn’t. get over it, but it seemed his notorious wielding of his ego took the words out of his mouth. the passage of time can sour any relationship, but it seemed these layers were impenetrable—but not if seunghyun had anything to say about it, however. if anything, their dick-swinging contest is perpetual. a cycle. a constant.

though he tried to forget seunghyun these past two years, jiyong’s familiarity with his antics deepened the annoyed furrow of his eyebrows. jiyong attempted to deflect, “i left that shit in college.” seunghyun didn’t give him a chance, “with how you looked at me when you walked in here, i’d think a day hadn’t gone by.” they stared at each other—the moment pregnant with tension. jiyong was the first to give in, nodding before laying his back against the wall; skin glowing, “you’re right. i did find it disturbing.” “there’s no need.” seunghyun shook his head. “it's two years behind you. both of our lives have changed. especially yours, ji.” he ignored the annoyed grimace on jiyong’s face. “anyway,” seunghyun cleared his throat. “that shouldn’t be what i’m for. not after this long.” jiyong looked up at him sharply, “what are you for then, seunghyun?” it felt naked in a way that had nothing to do with skin for jiyong to say his former best friend’s name, but none-more than for seunghyun to hear jiyong say it. in pure brotherly fashion seunghyun deflected, too: “honestly?” he began. “i thought you’d be happy i was in the draw.” he brought the conversation back to tennis. “i mean . . . you’ve always wanted to beat me in a tournament, right? since we were kids.”

jiyong didn’t look away. he was in awe of his seunghyun’s sheer audacity, “and a few weeks before the olympics? that’s the perfect confidence booster.” the tension thickened to the point of it being humorous, tugging at the corners of jiyong’s mouth like a poorly-written joke. he tried to bare his grit, speaking in a sing-song tone: “i know what you’re trying to do right now.” seunghyun dismissed him like the master he is. the master he’s always been: “i’m not trying to do anything, ji.” he chuckled. “you’re a grand slam champion. you have a fucking bodyguard. this is nothing to you. i don’t need to play mind games with you.” “right,” jiyong affirmed, getting some of his lick back. “you don’t give a shit.” seunghyun backtracked, albeit minutely. “i didn’t say that.” a beat went by before jiyong spoke, “we both know you have considerably more at stake here than i do.” seunghyun looked up at the ceiling in faux-thought, condescending smile making jiyong’s blood curdle, “i do?” jiyong looked at seunghyun for a long beat, letting out a hearty laugh, “holy shit.” he couldn’t believe it. seunghyun wasn’t sure where this was going, but he laughed along aimlessly. “fuck,” jiyong shook his head in disbelief. “where do you get your swagger, man? i mean, you try to swing your dick in my face like i’m supposed to be afraid of it, but . . . do you realize how embarrassing it is that you’re here right now?”

“not as embarrassing as you being here.” seunghyun tried to bite back. “you’re above something as tv as the olympics.” jiyong didn’t waste time allowing himself to be spun in circles, nipping this right in the bud: “i’m just stopping by, man. this is where you live.” seunghyun stalled himself. his smile gradually fell, gaze diverting to the water-soaked rocks in front of him. jiyong’s gaze was unwavering, eyes piercing into seunghyun’s soul: “always so close to being a runner-up. but far enough to be put in your place.” he said. he watched seunghyun’s jaw tighten, his grin sharpening in return, “i always tried to figure out what happened to you. but, you know, the more i’ve thought about it, the more i realize . . .  it's what didn’t happen. you never grew up. your old habits die so fucking hard you coughed yourself out of the french open. you say i’m still caught up in what went down with,” he said your name, hoping he wouldn’t be caught in his minute lie, “yet you’re the one who brought her up the first chance you had. you wanna tell me because of the look on my face it feels like we’re not a day out of stanford? i look at you and i see you’re still playing in the sandbox. being so cowardly fucking territorial, yet wondering why no one wants to come play with you.”

seunghyun turned his head, starting to speak, but jiyong cut him off: “you still think you can talk to me like i’m your peer because we came from the same place.” jiyong shook his head dismissively, “but it's not about where you come from in tennis, seunghyun. it only matters if you win.” seunghyun’s gaze darkened, though his expression was hurt. pitiful, even. jiyong was unrelenting: “and i do. a lot.” seunghyun had one last tool in his arsenal, “you’ve never beaten me.” it's true: in the games they’ve played either in practice, at the academy, or leading to stanford, jiyong has never outright won. he laughed it off, however: “so what? like you said, things have changed for me.” he said. “this is a game about winning the points that matter, anyway.” a long beat filled the room. a strange weight pressed into seunghyun’s chest, blinking rapidly to deter the uneasy feeling of shame and embarrassment stirring between his temples. when he did open his mouth, it would take a fool for his subdued tone to go unnoticed: “i don’t matter?” jiyong stared right back at him, “not even to the most obsessive tennis fan in the entire world.”

“i’m not talking about tennis, jiyong—” he didn’t let seunghyun’s uncharacteristic use of his full name stop him, “what the fuck else do i have to talk to you about?” there was another long, tense beat between them. seunghyun broke the tension for himself, a grin tugging at his mouth. he gradually stood to his feet, adjusting the way his towel wrapped around his waist, “i promised myself i’d wish you luck if i saw you.” jiyong looked away, his stare blanking. he slowly shook his head, trying to work his way out of this riddle, “that makes no sense.” “i wanted to say that i’m looking forward to it,” though seunghyun’s words held edge, his tone was melancholic. “and i miss playing with you.” jiyong looked at him, “oh yeah?” seunghyun nodded. jiyong’s expression soured slightly, manifesting in his pitiful frown, “i don’t miss playing with you. i’m too old for it.” jiyong watched seunghyun leave the sauna, turning away at the sound of the door slamming. after a moment, jiyong got up, walking over to the other side of the room. he poured water onto the rocks, sitting in silence, stirring in his complicated frustration.

you entered the bedroom of your hotel suite, keen on calling it a night after finishing the dishes from dinner. you undressed, overhearing the running tap whilst seunghyun brushed his teeth in the en suite, putting on shorts and spare french open t-shirt you wore to sleep. seunghyun turned the tap off after rinsing the toothpaste from his mouth, suddenly alone with his thoughts, and mirror view of a lump the shape of a small, velvet box protruding out of the left pocket of his pajama pants. he snuck it onto his person whilst you finished in the kitchen, fishing it out of a well-hidden and cushioned pocket in his luggage. it resembled a prospect you two have discussed at length and were agreeable on, knowing he was just waiting for the right time to ask. blessings from either of your parents were in order, and both of you were on the same page . . . not that the likelihood depended on whether he won tomorrow, but it would be ideal, right? the cherry on top, so to say. or maybe seeing jiyong at the sauna put a level of spite in him, though he knew it was in his bones to marry you, and you him. seunghyun turned his head, seeing you sat on the edge of the made bed, back turned to him as you did your routine applying of body cream on areas that tended to dry out at the end of a long day: your knees, elbows, wrists and hands. he walked to the threshold of the bathroom, stopping and looking at you for a long beat.

“tell me it doesn’t matter.” he voiced. you massaged the body cream into your hands, taking your time, back facing him. “tell you what doesn’t matter?” “if i win tomorrow.” that made you glance at him over your shoulder, but the direction of your body remained intact. “where’s this coming from? its a different tune than in london.” it didn’t take much for seunghyun to come clean, “i saw . . . i saw him today.” “you can say jiyong’s name.” you said. “he’s not an ancient curse. you shouldn’t be giving him power like that, anyway.” seunghyun nodded, listening to you diligently. he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the threshold in thought, “i saw jiyong at the sauna today.” “how was he?” “different.” answered seunghyun. “in a good way. more grown. finally got a haircut that suits him.” “you’re all those things, too, y’know.” you said, screwing the cap securely onto your moisturizer, returning it to your nightside table. you adjusted how you sat on the bed, looking at seunghyun comfortably. “you’re not the same person you were two years ago, either. and i like your hair shorter, too. i can see your face better.” you grinned at the sound of his sheepish chuckle. “did you talk to him?” seunghyun nodded, “i did, yeah.” “what’d you say?” “our conversation was . . . messy.” he was truthful, though the returned feeling of shame begged him to say more, “disjointed.” he added. “i wished him luck for tomorrow. he said that didn’t make any sense.” his words lingered in the air, punctuated by your brutal honesty: “it doesn’t.”

you didn’t say anything more. his gaze narrowed in on you, “tell me it doesn’t matter if i win tomorrow.” you stared at him, “no.” you took a breath. “you tell me if it matters, seunghyun. you’re the professional competitor.” he didn’t say anything. “it can’t be about avoiding my judgement. not when you’ve made it this far. not when you’re this close.” you shook your head. “i’m not a nun. i’m not your mommy.” seunghyun pushed his back against the threshold with a huff, bringing his arms to his sides. he peered down at his left hand, playing it off as he picked something out of the nail of his ring finger, “i’m just asking that you love me no matter what.” you let out a small laugh of disbelief, “who am i? jesus?” “yeah.” he affirmed, completely and unequivocally. this halted you in your tracks. you turned to face him entirely, legs and hands resting comfortably atop the duvet. “you’ll beat him.” you said. “you will beat jiyong.” seunghyun lifted his head, meeting your eyes. “what if i don’t? how are you gonna look at me?” “just like this.” you told him, holding his gaze. seunghyun took a long breath, deflating his chest with a much-needed exhale.

he approached the bed, crawling to you as the duvet softly crunched underneath the weight of his elbows, hand reaching for yours, eyes capacious with an insatiable desire for validation only the love of his life could provide. “we’re doing this together. we’ve always been doing this together.” he said, looking up at you. “i’m playing for the both of us. i know that.” “i’m the only reason you’re here.” you told him. “nothing else.” his head sunk to his wrists, so overcome by relief, succumbed to his devotion to you, you heard his muffled sniffle. your free hand reached over, tracing down the nape of his neck, gently sneaking past his shirt’s neckline, touch soothing between his shoulder blades. you sat in silence for a few moments, co-existing tenderly. “i’m serious. does that help you?” you whispered, fingers filing through his hair. seunghyun lifted his head, naturally moving your palm to mold against his cheek. he turned to his left, pressing a kiss to your palm, descending to your inner wrist, feeling your thumb dotingly trace his cheekbone. seunghyun lifted himself up, pressing a kiss onto your exposed arm before planting one of your clothed shoulder. he found your neck before taking your lips for himself. “i’m coming to you.” he whispered, swiftly scooting to your side of the bed.

seunghyun stood in front of you, leaning down, returning his lips to yours. his fingers wrapped loosely around your ankles, gesturing for you to bring your feet forward. you thought he was going to pen his routine letter of thanks, spreading your legs enough to allot ample standing room for him between your knees. his kisses were slow and steady—romantic, just the way you liked them. your hands reached up to hold either side of his face, silently pleading for him to deepen the kiss. he obliged, tilting his head to the left. in the midst of your satisfied huff, breath brushing against his pores, you didn’t notice he got down on one knee. or when he muttered something against your lips, caught up in how good it felt. “baby,” his voice was low, dripping over your ears like honey. he accepted the kiss as it came, palms dotingly tracing your thick thighs up and down. “i need to . . . i need to ask you something.” “hm?” you broke the kiss, either of you opening your eyes. “what is it, baby?” you murmured. you glanced down, realizing he was eye-level and on the floor. wait—he’s on the floor, your inner monologue was stunned, and on one fucking—"oh my god.“ was all you could say in you realization of what was happening. you looked at him, floored. "i . . . i—”

he swallowed, his eyes glossy. “i am person because of you.” he said sincerely. “you’ve made it so i can’t exist without you. i—” he briefly tightened his mouth, feeling his bottom lip tremble. “i walked this earth aimlessly. i thought i knew fuckin’ everything—that i was hot shit.” he dismissed his past self with an abrupt wave. his vision blurred, feeling a hot tear trail down his cheek. your sinuses loosened, holding his face as he cried. “but holy fucking shit, baby. i was clueless. i didn’t have any sense of direction until i met you.” he sniffled. “you don’t tolerate me,” he shook his head, looking into your eyes. “you love me.” your eyes closed, succumbing to your tears, pressing your forehead against his. “i do.” you affirmed in a whisper. “i love you.” “i love you so fucking much.” his voice trembled. he shook his head, forehead rubbing against yours, “no one moves this earth like you do. they could only be so lucky. i don’t know what i did in a past life to earn you in this one. i must have ended a war or some shit.” you chuckled meekly at that, sucking in a weak breath, sniffling. he leaned back an inch or so, looking into your eyes. you wiped your cheeks, pads of your fingertips wiping his stray tears. “but i’ll be fucking damned if i don’t show you how grateful i am, baby. for the rest of our lives. 'till death do us part.” “oh my god.” your heart couldn’t take it, sinking your face into your palms to steady your mind and chest.

seunghyun let himself breath, too. co-existing beautifully with his soon-to-be wife, palms tenderly rubbing up and down the sides of your thighs. “baby,” he called gently. “lemme see those eyes. i miss you.” you put your hands down, returning your gaze to his. “ask me, seunghyun.” you told him softly. “i’ve waited long enough.” he reached into his left pocket, pulling out the small black velvet box. upon seeing the ring, you hid your face again, hot tears falling. “it's so beautiful.” you sniffled. “you know me—” your voice quivered, “you know me so well.” it wasn’t cartoonishly big nor modestly small, but just the right size that complemented your divine beauty; cementing your souls together. seunghyun frowned, heart doubling over as he actively tried to thwart crying again, feeling his bottom lip shake. “look at me when i ask you, baby.” he coaxed softly. you did—cheeks wet and eyes glossy. “go ahead. i’m ready.” he held the ring up to you in its box, the diamond glimmering underneath the warm-toned suite ceiling lights. “can i—will you—” he cleared his throat, wanting to ensure his voice was stable. “will you marry me?” “yes,” you answered, nodding. “of course i fucking will. hand it over.”

a grand, stupidly happy smile graced his face. he took the ring out, placing the box next to your body cream. in his rush of emotion, he forgot something crucial: “i don’t remember which—i don’t remember which hand it goes on.” he sniffled. you let out a chuckle, understanding where his head was at. “t-the left, i think.” you nodded encouragingly. the ring fit somewhat loosely, but not enough to warrant worry about losing it. “we can—” he cleared his throat again, sniffling, overcome with joy. “we can get it adjusted when we’re back home.” “c'mere.” you beckoned, bringing his lips to yours. you pulled him into bed with you, feeling his hands ride up your hips and waist before settling in between your legs, kissing you as if you were a life source. “we’re getting married.” you murmured, giggling into the kiss as he smiled. “i get to be your husband.” he said, hearing you hum in response, feeling your hands ride up and down his back. he reconnected the kiss, slowing the speed in which your lips separated. “how cool is that?” “you’re the luckiest man on earth.” your hand held the nape of his neck. seunghyun let out a satisfied huff, feeling the cooling chill of the ring against his warming skin. he didn’t hesitate to affirm, “abso-fucking-lutely i am.”

you gradually broke the kiss. your fiancé doted on your soft jawline and neck, allowing you to get a good look at your engagement ring. “you picked well.” you told him. “yeah?” he murmured, the vibrations of his voice against you making your eyes nearly flutter closed. “mhm,” you hummed. “when did you get it?” “i was eyeing it for a few months. i was stuck choosing between, like, four. the jeweler had the same taste as you, coincidentally enough.” his lips pressed a kiss to your temple. “she helped me pick this one. remember when you had that last minute work conference? like, two days before we flew here?” “you’re kidding. that’s when you bought it?” “mhm. i took it as a sign and got my ass right on the tube.” he smiled, heart warming at your bright laughter. he nestled his head into your chest, eyes fluttering closed when your fingers combed his hair back, “and here we are now. i’m glad you like it.” “i love it.” you corrected, feeling him hum. comfortable silence brewed. “here we are now.” you affirmed like him, tone soft. “our parents are gonna have a field day when they see this tomorrow.” he couldn’t help his hearty laughter, “they will—oh my god. entire facebook albums dedicated to it.” “immediate wedding planning before you even get on the court.” you riffed, laughing harder as he did, too.

seunghyun left his wired headphones at home for his run the next morning. you woke to his arms wrapping around you in bed, skin cold from his shower, nuzzling into you once you turned around to face him. your engagement ring was safely tucked away in its velvet box, ready to shine in the sunlight during his match today. “morning.” you mumbled, eyes closed whilst your senses cleared from lingering sleep. “how was your run?” “good morning, baby.” he kissed your clothed shoulder. “it was normal. how’d you sleep? good?” you hummed weakly in response, his chuckle tickling your neck. “m'not gonna tear your shit up today.” he said, seeing you grin. you gradually opened your eyes, rubbing out the last remnants of sleep. “just wanna hold you.” “fine by me.” seunghyun moved higher on his pillow, welcoming you into his embrace. you were secure against his chest, soothed by his palm tenderly rubbing your back. “how long until you go for warm-ups?” you muttered. “about two hours, give or take.” he nestled his chin atop your head, feeling and hearing you hum in response. “do you think you’d be able to come with me? i just . . . really need you there,” he paused, “today.” “of course.” you answered sincerely. “it's just another day, seunghyun. treat it as such.” “i know,” he spoke lowly. he kissed the top of your head, lips staying there. “i’m trying.”

seunghyun kissed you firmly after finishing his warm-ups, left to his own devices in the men’s locker room whilst you went to the stands to meet with his family. jiyong arrived on the court before his opponent did, waving to his family in the player’s box. he spotted you not long after, in deep conversation with seunghyun’s mother, showing her something on your hand, but he couldn’t make out what it was. not that i care, his inner monologue voiced. he adjusted the way his nike cap rested on his head, beckoned over by his coaches to his side of the court. seunghyun stepped out roughly ten minutes before the match was set to begin. he approached the designated bench on his side of the court, setting his duffel bag down. he unzipped it, pulling out his racket and setting it aside. he looked up, searching for the player’s box. he offered a friendly wave to jiyong’s family, blowing a kiss when he saw you sat with his.

to jiyong’s detriment, as he got into position, he couldn’t divert his gaze. he twirled his racket in his hand, freezing when he realized what was on your hand. he watched you wave to your fiancé gleefully, a grand smile shining under the sun. your eyes were hidden behind your sunglasses, but he could just feel the spark—happiness pulsating, potently reeking off you. jiyong thought he understood what it meant to feel bitter, but it was as if his body succumbed to it. he was known for striding onto the court with nothing but tunnel vision leading the way. he’s known the game seunghyun has played their entire lives. he let out a long exhale, centering his balance—nothing mattering to him but winning.

the first of their five sets went to jiyong. either played relatively calmly, almost as if they disassociated from their history—hell bent on just getting through this game. both showcased the reason why they made it this far in their careers: jiyong’s muscles lending unwavering power into his dependable backhand swing; seunghyun’s height and quick reaction time never missing a beat, sending that ball back with pointed sharpness. to you, sat in the stands, it felt a little too safe. at the start of the second set, however, you got your answer why: avoidance. these two could evade reality for only so long. to face one another so viscerally and so suddenly, it could only manifest in seunghyun sending his first serve into the net. he wasn’t any better in the reset—thwwaacckk!—the ball went wide, landing out of bounds, nearly handing jiyong the second set. seunghyun’s parents adjusted their postures anxiously, watching you in their periphery. your face sunk to your palms. you tried to ignore the gasps rumbling throughout the court at his double fault, pinching the bridge of your nose in muted frustration, “get it the fuck together.” you muttered; addressing both yourself but more importantly him. you took a long exhale, straightening your back into your seat, re-centering your focus.

seunghyun looked to you, seeing your stoic expression. he cleared his throat, bouncing the ball before going into his service motion—thwwwaaaccckkk! the game resumed, but not for long. seunghyun rushed to the net quicker than he should have, landing his hit out of bounds again. he saw jiyong’s shoulders relax in real time, comfortable in the knowledge he was basically halfway to winning the match. seunghyun didn’t dare look at you, though he could feel your tut of disapproval. the umpire announced a break before the next set in which jiyong and seunghyun would switch sides, setting the clock to a countdown of ten minutes. seunghyun made way to his bench, sitting down before peeling off his sweaty polo. he let his melanin breath in the sunlight, shoulders relaxing as the universe gifted him a generous gust of wind.

jiyong used the wind to dry his hair, leaving his nike cap behind to let his dark follicles air out. he wiped his face with a towel, having water before downing an energy gel. as the time ticked, the umpire felt someone’s eyes on him. he looked to the stands: it was you; eyes narrowed in the sunlight, sunglasses resting on your head. you turned and looked at your fiancé, who was already looking at you. though there was ample distance, you felt the weight of his eyes, wordlessly asking for any semblance of its going to be okay. you gave it to him: you tapped your finger on your temple as if to say you got this. seunghyun nodded, straightening his posture, letting his face soak the warmth of the sun in, calming his heartbeat. you put your sunglasses back on, hearing the umpire call time. seunghyun put a new polo on before heading to his new side of the court. you caught the look on jiyong’s face: resentment.

seunghyun came back strong in the third set, clutching it securely. jiyong didn’t flinch, keeping his logic at bay. still plenty of chance i walk away with that spot, his inner monologue relayed like a mantra. he started the fourth set with his graceful service motion, both his and seunghyun’s movements echoing the junior us open when they were teenagers: seunghyun dictated, jiyong sprinted from corner to corner, both metronomes; working in tandem though their energies collided instantaneously. it was a recipe for a perfect storm when they used to play together, scaring the ego out just about anyone. now, it was fuel to the fire—each grunt a more visceral grab at power than before, each skid and slide of their shoes a vivid command of respective grit, each wipe of sweat off the forehead a trained target. you fell into a trance yourself, keeping your eyes on either, thinking. your head was the only one not swiveling to follow the ball. thwacckk! thwacccckkkk! seunghyun pumped his fist, looking to you after the umpire announced the fourth set went to him. you met his eyes, expression complicated—not comfortable celebrating victory just yet—sending him off with a curt nod of approval.

another break was called before the fifth and final set. jiyong and seunghyun crossed each other at the net, heading to their benches. jiyong settled with a huff. not one of defeat, but reflection. it was cosmic coincidence that this came down to a tie after everything he’s been through and with the person sat some feet away from him. he took off his custom-made nike top, wiping himself off with a towel. he pulled a fresh polo from his duffel, putting it on the bench next to him. he reached back down, trading his current racket for a fresh one, pulling the plastic off. he set it beside him, unzipping his backpack for his water bottle and packed banana, pacing himself through re-hydration.

he peeled the banana, intaking potassium in a cerebrally meditative state, elbows on his knees. his stare wasn’t vacant. it was the opposite: fruitful—disciplined. though he was one game away from losing, he wasn’t betting on it. he turned his head, seeing seunghyun finishing an energy gel. he watched him swirl it around in his mouth before definitively swallowing, his eyebrows and mouth molding into a muted grimace. he never liked those, jiyong remembered, i don’t know why he’s forcing it on himself. seunghyun downed water the first chance he got. he closed the cap of his reusable bottle, tossing it back into his duffel. he inhaled sharply through his nostrils, fingers wiping away thick beads of sweat from his temple. he turned his head, glancing at jiyong. his gaze remained steady, realizing he was already looking at him—exuding cocky ease. jiyong extended the banana as if to say want a bite? seunghyun’s expression didn’t falter from its unreadable state, but his eyes darkened with the unmistakable look of hatred. looking at me with the same cocky shit he did in the sauna, his inner monologue voiced, i gotta to decimate the fuck out of him.

seunghyun looked to the stands, seeing you getting back to your seat, having returned from a quick trip to the bathroom. you fixed your hair with your left hand after a gust of wind flew by—the diamond of your engagement ring glinting in his eyes from a distance. you felt your fiancé’s eyes on you, seeing him staring behind your polarized lenses. the stakes were getting to him; the tension reaching its peak. you waved, hoping it would alleviate the fumes radiating off him. you watched him exhale, slumping his posture with his elbows on his knees, contemplating. you thought quickly: setting your purse on your lap, pulling your blackberry out.

you looked at the ticking timer by the umpire’s chair, seeing five minutes were left. you typed a text, waving your phone in the air since his gaze was still on you. seunghyun understood, unzipping the side pocket of his duffel. you knew it worked when his head sunk, spotting his attempt at hiding his amused smile once he came into view again. You look so hot right now—unserious, disarming, but most importantly playful. he texted back on his blackberry, Youre hoterr—sweaty hands making way for typos. seunghyun was a little more at ease now, putting his phone back. you felt accomplished. by chance, you glanced to your right, seeing jiyong also looking at you. you thought it was mere coincidence, but as he put on his polo, his gaze remained steady. right then, seunghyun’s mother grabbed your attention for something, stealing looks back at your fiancé and jiyong.

jiyong and seunghyun stepped onto the court after the umpire called “time!” into the microphone. they looked at each other across the net. sets one through four were history—all that matters is what happens next. though it was jiyong’s turn to serve, either came out swinging. it was intense, neck-and-neck—enough to warrant your head swiveling, following the ball. they went back and forth in earning points, jiyong inching closer to the cusp of winning. seunghyun’s knuckles whitened around his racket’s grip, though he kept his cool. he took a deep breath, resetting—it was his turn to serve, anyway. he took the spare tennis ball out of the pocket of his shorts, bouncing it on the court. he looked up, staring at jiyong like two old-town rivals in an aged western. seunghyun brought his racket up, about to go into his service motion, but paused. he glanced at jiyong, crouched down, ready to the win the match. he looked to you in the stands, seeing your unreadable expression, though you were holding your breath. he looked back at jiyong, who was wondering why he was taking so long. seunghyun started his service motion again, but stopped abruptly. “time violation.” the umpire spoke into the microphone. “warning, choi.”

a brash breath separated his lips. seunghyun tightened his mouth, reaching up, using the back of his hand to wipe sweat off his forehead. this is all so fucked, his inner monologue complained. not even unfair. just fucked. jiyong saw a smile on seunghyun’s face. his eyebrows furrowed, confused: to this day he’s a fucking riddle. he sucked in a sharp breath when seunghyun unexpectedly looked up, meeting his eyes. his heart stuttered like an instinct: i know that face, he thought to himself. he just got an idea. his gaze followed seunghyun’s; the two of them looking to you in the stands. jiyong swiftly re-centered his attention, keen on heightening his reaction time for whatever was coming next. but if seunghyun knew how to do anything, it's humbling somebody. he went into his service motion again, but this time, he made sure jiyong saw him put the ball in the center of the racket, just like the day after jiyong’s first date with you. it served as a reminder—of everything lost; everything taken. thwwaacckk! jiyong was too shocked to even move for it. he just stood there, frozen. the ball landed in, giving the point to seunghyun. you looked back and forth between them, unsure what was going on. jiyong glanced at you and seunghyun before making it crystal clear: “fuck off.”

seunghyun smiled, chuckling when a wave of shocked gasps reverberated through the stands. “code violation.” the umpire said into the microphone, “audible obscenity. point penalty, kwon.” jiyong ignored the grumbles from spectators. seunghyun moved over for his next serve, seeing jiyong’s cold expression. jiyong just continued looking at his opponent bouncing the ball. the umpire covered the microphone with her hand, “jiyong?” he didn’t move: “he can serve.” “you need to get into position.” a pregnant beat went by. still looking at seunghyun, jiyong backed up to the other side of the service line, just standing there. the grumbles throughout the crowd were now confused. you looked at seunghyun, then to jiyong, then back at seunghyun—unsure of what the fuck was going on, assuring your future mother-in-law that you had no idea, either. jiyong remained just standing there, racket at his side. “serve.” he said with conviction. seunghyun followed his petulant order, hitting a soft-as-a-pillow underhand serve, like he was feeding jiyong the ball during practice. jiyong didn’t even move for it. he let the ball sail right by, not sparing a glance. he hated the way seunghyun was smiling at him.

the umpire tapped the microphone, “tie break. kwon to serve.” patches of scattered, confused applause peppered through the crowd. in a swift panic, you looked at jiyong, then to your fiancé—suddenly, it all clicked. your eyes went to the jumbotron, showing jiyong. it then switched to seunghyun. as they stood there, looking at each other wordlessly, they both thought the same thing: let’s really play now. jiyong received the ball for his serve. seunghyun readied himself for the return, getting into position. jiyong didn’t waste time going into his service motion—thwwaacckk!—sending the ball right at seunghyun’s head, like he was trying to decapitate him. seunghyun dodged it, returning the ball with matched power—thwwaacckk! they rallied: it's immediately clear to spectators and fans alike that they’re playing their best tennis in their careers—the best tennis in their lives, frankly. they traded blows: smacking and whacking the ball furiously—each hit more angrier, more vengeful than the last. though malice polluted the air—poignant in the sweat trickling down their backs and grunts deflating their lungs—your head swiveled back-and-forth; you’ve never seen seunghyun look so alive. you never imagined disdain could flex muscles and irritate the soles of shoes like it did jiyong’s. each hit released something, forming them into one, electrifying unit: like the good old days.

you subconsciously gritted your teeth, hands gripping the armrests, leaning forward in your seat; playing as jiyong, playing as seunghyun, playing as the ball itself—thwwaacck! thwwaacck! thwwwwaaaacccckkkk!!!! jiyong was on auto-pilot. he moved like a machine, hitting the ball like it was target practice; mind turned off, completely in a trance. seunghyun wasn’t trying to keep up, he was the pacemaker—swinging his racket hard enough to change weather patterns. though his ball came in hot, it hit the top of the net, slowing its trajectory. jiyong narrowly sprinted to the net, trying to prevent it from dropping shallowly onto his side. his foot slipped, but he caught himself, succeeding in his return. he swiftly ran backwards to where he was before. he shifted his body to make seunghyun’s fierce return, but once again, he was on autopilot. he went into his wind-up, stepping forward, not noticing seunghyun’s ball was coming off the court with just the tiniest bit of spin to it. jiyong tried to correct his stance mid-swing, but his legs went one way and upper body went the other, and he slipped again: his left knee contorted in a way that was completely unnatural.

SNAP—his knee popped out of place, sending his racket clanging and himself falling to the ground. the crowd gasped. you instinctually rose to your feet; petrified, hearing his mother howl in horror as her son screamed in pain. a medic was already by his side, trying to calm him down. jiyong writhed around, sobbing profusely, holding his knee for dear life. though he was in a state of shock, his subconscious begged whichever cosmic force sinisterly wrote his fate: “no no no no no no,” he cried, sweat mixing with his hot tears, a blubbering mess. “please. please. no no no no—” he cut himself off with a curdling yelp of indescribable pain as another medic turned him onto his back, reminding him to breathe. it all happened so quickly, but seunghyun’s face went cold. he dropped his racket, leaving any and all petty grievances behind. in milliseconds, it was as if nothing happened between them—all that mattered was making sure his best friend was okay. he leapt over the net without thinking, falling to his knees behind jiyong’s head: “ji? ji!? oh my god—what the fuck!?” he panicked. he tucked his hands underneath jiyong’s shoulders, lifting to prop his head on his knees. “look at me—oh my f-fucking god, look at me, ji. just breathe, okay? just breathe for me, man—oh my god.” his bottom lip quivered, looking at his best friend, completely helpless. “this wasn’t supposed to happen.” he shook his head, vision blurry. “this wasn’t supposed to fucking happen.”

jiyong stared at the ceiling of the hospital room, mute, completely drained of life. the painkillers have long since kicked in, but he can’t stomach looking at his knee. wrapped in what looked like yards of stretchable gauze, propped up by two fluffy pillows. he’s been there for hours, replaying the moment in his head in a torturous loop. he was numb, but felt everything at the same fucking time. he forfeited the game since he couldn’t continue playing, giving the last spot up to seunghyun, so what does this mean for his career? would he ever play again? what was he going to be known for now? how was he going to move forward? what did this all mean?

he didn’t have the energy nor the bandwidth to even consider thinking about the logistics or the after—but the look on his mother’s face, who was sat beside his bed, desired otherwise. his father stood outside the room, in intense conversation with his doctor, prolonging it long enough for his physiotherapist to arrive after being stuck in hellish new york traffic. his father peered inside, gesturing for his mother to come out. she looked to her son sympathetically, having no tears left to cry, “you’ll get back out there.” she said meekly. she got up, putting her purse on her seat. before she turned, a mother’s intuition kicked in. she picked up jiyong’s backpack, taking out his cell phone, setting it on his over-bed table next to his cup of chipped ice. she walked out without another word, closing the door behind her.

ten minutes later, his phone rang. he didn’t pick up, too lost in his mind. his eyes flickered downward when it rang a second time, though he didn’t budge. it was the third time that he hastily picked up: “what?” “jiyong?” his palpable frustration in the moment didn’t let him recognize your voice on the other side of the line, “what do you want? who is this?” “it's me,” the sound of you saying your name humbled him. “you still have my number?” he asked. “i wasn’t—i wasn’t sure if it would still work, but i wanted to try.” you explained. “i deleted yours.” he told you. “a long time ago.” there was a brief pause on your end, “that makes sense.” “why are you calling me?” “i wanted to see if you were doing okay after what happened.” “no, i’m not okay. why would i be okay?” you shook your head, “that was bad word choice.” you thought aloud. “i just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

silence. you expected jiyong to hang up, but he didn’t: “does he know you’re calling me?” “he does.” you turned around, looking past the kitchenette counter in your hotel suite, seeing seunghyun sitting with his face in his hands on the couch. “he’s . . . he's—” you ran your free hand over your face. “you were wheeled away so quickly. we didn't—we didn’t know what to do.” jiyong didn’t say anything. he heard you take a breath. you were sure this next part was for sure going to make him hang up. but you had to say it. you felt it wouldn’t be right if you didn’t: “i know a lot has happened in the last few years.” you spoke. jiyong’s chest tightened, “but we still care about you. i still care.” you crossed your arm over your chest, “that will never change. no matter how hard it gets.” jiyong’s mouth morphed into a frown. his eyes watered, unable to shake the feeling of just wanting his best friend there. jiyong felt naked in a way that had nothing to do with skin or clothing; exposed like a child who lost their parents at the mall; lost at sea though anchored to the casualties. he wanted to brashly push the petty chess pieces off the tainted checkerboard, sending each and every one to their demise though it was the same collective and muddled selfishness that cemented them in the first place—every stride seunghyun took following after you in the parking lot; every swing of jiyong’s racket at the international opens; every avoidant glare whenever the universe brought them together again.

you were another piece of the unsolvable puzzle, one he was so emotionally exhausted over he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. now that life got fucking real, and he didn’t know whether his days would be tempered on the court in the same way, providing distractions in the guise of goals apt enough to convince himself he was living in technicolor, he just wanted community. he wanted familiarity. though the history between you three was hard, his life worked out in a way that the people who hurt him most also understand him the most, too. it was complex and complicated. jiyong became nauseous. seunghyun felt it, too. you were caught off guard when he abruptly got up from the couch, not immediately processing him saying “let me talk to him.” jiyong overheard, along with your “hm? oh, okay.” you handed the phone over to him. “ji?” seunghyun’s voice cracked. he cleared his throat, “ji? are you still there?” jiyong was frozen in his panic, blinking so hard that a few tears inevitably fell. “listen, man. i just—” seunghyun stopped himself, feeling his sinuses loosen. “i j-just need to know how you’re holding up.” jiyong couldn’t take it anymore, feeling suffocated, wanting the call to end: “have a nice life. okay?” he hung up with a quivering bottom lip, taking the battery out of his nokia, throwing it onto the floor.

ELEVEN YEARS LATER

it was never the same for jiyong. his twist of fate made unfiltered rounds in not only the sports community, but mainstream pop culture, too. he ignored requests for interviews left and right, focusing on getting himself right after surgery and throughout physical therapy. nine months after his injury, he steadily ushered his return to the practice court, equipped with a knee sleeve. though his coach tried to ease the pressure, jiyong knew the truth: its over. it wasn’t initially easy to accept, however: he smacked the ball way out of the court when it was apparent the player he was training with was tip-toeing, “stop going easy on me. i won a grand fucking slam.” or the shouting match he got into with his coach—“hit the ball! actually start hitting the ball! what’re you afraid of!? hurting me?”—only to be reduced to frustrated tears after failing to hit a shallow drop shot; his knee having given out from under him. his coach rushed over to help him up, but jiyong did it on his own: “i’m fine. i’m okay, i’m okay,” limping back to the baseline. he suddenly smashed his racket into the concrete a few times before throwing brashly to the side, walking off the court without another word.

his parents tried to help regroup: “you’ve done enough in your life already.” his father said over dinner one evening. “maybe it's time to take some for yourself.” “i could’ve done more.” jiyong said bitterly. “if you think that way, you won’t have another day of peace.” his mother warned. jiyong put his utensil down, eyeing the both of them: “how has my life ever been peaceful?” he retorted. “my entire life has been on that court. it became my purpose. you never taught me otherwise.” he didn’t watch any coverage of the olympic games in beijing, overhearing his parents rejoice over the news seunghyun had won bronze in the men’s singles and silver in the doubles. a year later, jiyong went outside to get the mail after breakfast, inadvertently being the one who opened his family’s invitation to your’s and seunghyun’s wedding. a couple years after that, some months after seunghyun clinched his second grand slam in the men’s singles, jiyong heard through the grapevine about you greeting your in-laws at the door of your london flat with an apparent baby bump. photos of you and your well-behaved two year old in your lap, equipped with protective headphones around your baby girl’s precious ears, sat in the stands at seunghyun’s singles match at the london olympic games in 2012 went semi-viral on twitter. the photos landed on jiyong’s feed, along with the ones of you rejoicing with your daughter clutched in your arms when your husband won the gold.

jiyong did many things to pass time over the years: coaching gigs that didn’t feel right or he said yes to too early in his recovery, tried starting a foundation but ended up backing out over logistical disagreements with his team, dating around, journaling until he spent the last drop of ink in his pen, and taking up meditation. it wasn’t easy adapting to a life-altering change. but over time, he learned to give himself some grace. in 2015, seven years after his injury, he accepted a coaching position at stanford. not only was it fulfilling, but his pupils began to heal his severed heart. they were good kids: listened well, trained better, and performed phenomenally come game days. jiyong also started seeing an adjunct professor, who taught english literature to sophomores to fulfill requirements for her master’s. she saw him as a person and not a tragedy. that alone was good enough for him. however, every morning before going on his routine jog, without fail, jiyong pauses after putting on his shorts. he runs his fingers over the scar on his left knee, thinking about what could’ve been.

on a foggy morning in 2019, jiyong walked onto the practice court, seeing a group of his players huddled around a bench. “break it up, guys.” he called aloud. “your drills aren’t gonna do themselves.” they dispersed, one turning to him: “sorry, coach.” she apologized. another one joined her: “we were just talking about how someone’s, like, having this q-and-a thing on campus and were trying to see if any tickets were left. i think you might know him?” her teammate nudged her with her elbow, giving her a look of are you serious? read the room. this piqued jiyong’s interest, “show me.” she reached into her backpack, unlocking her iphone, showing him a post on stanford’s student programming association’s instagram page. it was a digital flyer for the event, though jiyong recognized the photo used of seunghyun instantly—taken at wimbledon last year after shaking hands with the player he beat not only at that tournament, but also in rio for the gold in 2016—accompanied by caption: Only a few tickets left: Come see 3x Olympian, 4x Grand Slam Champion, and proud Stanford alum Seunghyun Choi this Friday at 8 PM!

jiyong kept it professional, offering a curt nod with an unreadable expression. “we played together a long time ago.” he left it at that. “go do your drills. or you’ll be late for class.” he pondered whether he wanted to go. when friday morning came, though, he called a colleague who also was the faculty member overseeing the student programming association, scoring him a spare ticket. the auditorium was packed—filled to the brim. a mixture of athletes, student reporters, actual reporters, professors, and the like. jiyong spotted his kids sitting together on one side, waving gingerly as they waved excitedly back. he found a seat in one of the last few rows, closer to the aisle, giving him a good view of the stage. all there was were two cushioned armchairs with a table in-between, equipped with two glasses of water and microphones, respectively. the applause was rapturous when seunghyun came out, dressed in a tailored suit as he humbly waved to the crowd before sitting down next to the moderator. it was odd: hearing someone’s voice for the first time in over a decade, let alone seeing them. though jiyong was a distance away, he could tell seunghyun’s aged in the same way he has: a wider frame complemented by muscle, a new hairstyle that looked handsome but teenaged-them would have made fun of, and an inexplicable air of maturity naturally enriching his aura.

seunghyun answered run-of-the-mill questions: “how’d you get your start?” “what was the transition into going pro like for you?” “what's it like in olympic village?” “what advice do you have for student athletes today?” and perhaps an arguably cheesy one, “what does tennis mean to you?” he exited the stage an hour and a half later the same way he entered: graciously, and with a smile. in the traffic of the crowd funneling out of the auditorium, jiyong was led away from the entrance he came in from. he hoped to pass time, thus lessening the amount of people he had to squeeze through, by making a pit stop to the bathroom before the drive home. to his chagrin, there was a line there too, but he took the loss, hoping as a result he wouldn’t have to sit in road traffic for long. his plan worked: it was much quieter. jiyong mistakenly walked out of the wrong entrance, though, only realizing when he didn’t recognize the side of the block he was headed towards. he pulled out his fob, hearing his car beep! in the opposite direction. he walked down those couple of blocks, past parking meters and flocks of students headed downtown to start their weekends, looking to his left at the sound of a door opening.

it was seunghyun, shaking hands with the heads of various stanford athletic departments sponsoring the event. they then turned to you, shaking your hand diplomatically, before leaning down to your daughter, offering high fives. she returned them shyly, quickly turning to you for assurance. you sported a black blazer and trouser set, aptly matching with your husband, whilst your daughter wore a dress her father sped to macy’s for this morning. you said your amicable goodbyes before parting ways, headed to the suv to take you back to your hotel. your daughter stood between you two, holding both yours and seunghyun’s hands—your free one reaching over to fix her hair after a gust of wind flew by—listening to her shoes skid against the pavement whilst her parents talked casually. seunghyun, by chance, looked to his left. he stopped in his tracks. you and your daughter did too, the only difference was you didn’t know why. though it didn’t take long for your husband to provide, like he always does: “ji?” he asked aloud. “ji? is that you?” “y-yeah,” jiyong nodded, clearing his throat. he scratched the back of his neck, “it's me, seunghyun.”

in a sudden moment of panic, your husband turned to you. you didn’t hesitate, “go to him.” you said. “we’ll wait.” “i don't—i don’t know how long we’ll talk for.” “that’s okay.” you thought quickly on your feet. “we’ll head to the hotel. is your ringer on?” “y-yeah. i think.” he nodded, hand patting his left pocket, feeling his phone there. “good. i’ll send the car. now go, baby.” he bent down, kissing your daughter’s head, “go with mom for a little bit, okay? dad’ll be right back.” she nodded, earning a kiss to her cheek. he came up to you, planting a chaste kiss to your lips. “i love you.” “i love you. now go.” you kept your daughter’s hand in yours, walking to the car. seunghyun turned around, walking to jiyong. “did you—” he cleared his throat, nervous. “did you come to the event tonight?” he gestured to the venue behind him. he took a moment, but jiyong eventually nodded: “i did, yeah. my—my kids told me about it.” seunghyun’s heart stuttered out of near shock, “kids?” jiyong quickly clarified with a swift shake of his head, a ghost of smile tugging at his lips, “the ones i coach. they were here tonight, too.” “thats right, you do coach.” seunghyun nodded, remembering. “its about four years sinc you got the gig, right?” “yeah.” jiyong nodded, eyebrows starting to furrow. “how’d you know?” seunghyun smirked, though it wasn’t arrogant. “our families still talk, ji.” “sure.” said jiyong. “but we don’t.” “yeah,” seunghyun confirmed. his expression fell, albeit minutely. “but we don’t.”

a beat went by. seunghyun looked to his left, seeing a bench. he took a seat, looking at jiyong with an expression reading if you’re willing, i am too. jiyong was hesitant, “you don’t have somewhere to be?” seunghyun shook his head, jutting his bottom lip. “not right now, no.” he checked the time on his watch. “but my daughter’s stubborn and refuses to go to bed until both mom and dad are there to read her a bedtime story. so it's up to you.” he quipped, an upside-down grin on his face. jiyong snickered, taking a seat. “is she more like her mom or dad?” seunghyun smiled, thinking of her fondly: “a lot like me, unfortunately.” he chuckled. “when the missus was getting her doctorate at oxford,” he referred to you. “and she had, like, long lectures or meetings, or if anything came up, i’d do pick up, drop off—y’know, everything. i can’t tell you how many times i’ve been pulled off the court during practice to help with math homework, man.” jiyong exhaled through his nostrils, grinning. “one day—” seunghyun said your name, “—came home and said it felt like talking to two of me. she demanded we have another, until we both realized we only just caught up on the sleep we didn’t get while raising the one we have now.”

jiyong couldn’t stifle his chuckle if he tried. “does she have an accent?” he asked, referring to the fact she was born and raised in london thus far in her life. seunghyun shook his head, “weirdly enough, no. i guess we won in that case.” he grinned. a pregnant beat went by. seunghyun’s eyes widened, “i just realized you haven’t met her yet.” jiyong’s mouth tightened awkwardly. the emotional gravitas of their reunion; everything left untouched; the passage of time creating what felt like a void of the unknown of how either of their lives have progressed, humbling the both of them. “i haven’t, no.” said jiyong. “she’s turning nine next month.” seunghyun told him. “we’re having the party at my parents house. you should come.” “you’re staying for that long?” jiyong asked. seunghyun shook his head, “we’ll be back in town for it.” perhaps it was a symptom of long distance: traveling frequently to lessen the effect of living an ocean away from your loved ones, or a symbol of seunghyun’s wealth. the bountiful fruits of his labor on the court, winning one grand slam after the next, collecting olympic medals the same way he did flight miles, bagging unimaginable salaries from multiple nike campaigns—living the life jiyong once knew. not that he was living in destitute conditions whatsoever: living off a six figure salary with savings that kept him in the top one percent come tax season. but like anyone else, the what ifs preface his rem cycle.

jiyong looked ahead, at the other side of the street, avoiding both seunghyun’s eyes and invite. “i don’t think i could’ve imagined you being a dad.” seunghyun kissed his teeth playfully, “with how i was back then? it’d be like expediting the end of the world.” jiyong tried to keep his laughter in, but failed miserably. he let it ring out from his diaphragm, making seunghyun smile stupidly, too. they both felt nineteen again—staying up late; clueless about what they were going to make of their newfound independence after moving into their respective student apartments. “holy shit, man.” jiyong ran his hand over his face, posture relaxing in the bench. he crossed his arms over his chest, “you’re right. it would.” “you see yourself being a dad one day?” seunghyun asked.  jiyong nodded, “yeah, i do.” he said earnestly. “i’ve been seeing someone these past couple of years. but we haven’t had that talk yet.” he heard seunghyun hum, letting him know he was listening. “y’know, to be honest,” jiyong continued, licking his lips in thought. “between us, i thought i’d be the first to do so. but i guess—i guess it just didn’t work out that way. like a lot of things.” he descended into a mutter, avoiding eye contact, picking something off his jeans. his heart stuttered with anxiety, palpitating between his temples. a heavy pit of shame weighed on his chest. his mind ran through the last several years: “look, man.” he said. seunghyun looked at him, but jiyong didn’t move. “i'm—i’m sorry i didn’t come to the wedding.” seunghyun blinked, taken aback. “that was ten years ago, ji.” he said. “you’re good.”

jiyong shook his head, stubborn. “it wasn’t right of me to not go.” “that’s because you’re speaking with hindsight.” countered seunghyun. “don’t forget how you felt in the moment. if i’m being completely honest, we would’ve been surprised if you did come. i mean, with everything that happened, and how you were in recovery . . .” his voice trailed, cutting himself off, verging into sensitive territory. jiyong’s posture stiffened, though he could see seunghyun glance over in his periphery. “how—how is your knee, ji?” jiyong inhaled sharply through his nostrils, “tough as ever.” he patted his left knee. “strong enough to keep me upright when i’m telling other people how to play tennis, but stubborn in letting me play.” jiyong joked blandly, tightening his lips. seunghyun’s expression was sympathetic, though proud: “i heard one of your kids is a favorite for tokyo.” he referred to the host city for the olympic games the following year. “you’ve done well.” “i haven’t done enough.” jiyong countered stubbornly.

seunghyun let out a long exhale. he turned his head, momentarily looking at the traffic light a few blocks down. he tightened his lips in thought, rallying: “i’m gonna say something, and it’s probably gonna confuse the fuck out of you. but i want you to hear me out.” he cleared his throat, swallowing afterward. “i’m not going for tokyo. matter of fact, after the open, i’m hanging it up entirely.” jiyong turned his head sharply, eyebrows furrowed, “you’re retiring?” seunghyun simply nodded, “mhm.” he confirmed. “you’re the first to know. well, after my wife, of course.” he corrected himself with an endearing grin. “what’d she say?” jiyong wasn’t sure if was asking out of plain curiosity or to use your reaction to mitigate his own, ensuring he didn’t lose his goddamn mind. “i let it slip when we went for dinner to celebrate getting her doctorate.” seunghyun explained, face warming at the memory. “she thought it was her graduation gift. so i guess you could say she was relieved. everything—all of this,” seunghyun gestured around, referring to the hustle-and-bustle of his career, “it's been a lot on her, too. i’d say it's about time.”

“but why?” jiyong couldn’t wrap his head around it. “why would you? you have plenty of good years left.” “because i’m over it, ji. i’m tired.” seunghyun said earnestly, looking into his eyes. “i don’t wanna be one of those guys that don’t know when to walk away. i don’t wanna be doing this in my forties.” he shook his head. jiyong was flabbergasted. seunghyun continued, “and plus, i love being a dad. i love being a husband.” jiyong was nearly rendered speechless. his expression was almost offended, “you’ve changed.” seunghyun’s eyebrows fluttered in and out of a furrow, “you say that like it's a bad thing.” “no, that’s not what i—” jiyong cut himself off, trying to find the right words. he only grew more frustrated, trying to make sense of his complicated feelings, “you’ve always had the freedom of choice, seunghyun. since we were kids.” he said, looking at him in disbelief. “doing whatever you want. getting to do anything however you want to do it.” seunghyun’s expression faltered to one of defense, though his tone didn’t follow: “it wasn’t either of our choices to be good at tennis.” he said. “just like how it wasn’t my choice for that last match to come down to us.”

jiyong tried to bite back, “you don’t know what i’d do to be in your shoes. to be able to just—resume.” seunghyun didn’t give in to his trap, “you’re more than tennis, ji.” he said. “you always have been.” jiyong turned his head, looking at seunghyun, but for once in his life, he didn’t have anything to say. as they both sat there on that bench, unbeknownst to them, their unspoken language rose from the ashes. one conversation didn’t bare the teeth nor the bandwidth of making up for over ten years lost to time, but it was a stepping stone into a new chapter. of what? jiyong didn’t know yet, and neither did seunghyun. as they parted ways and left that bench behind—seunghyun quickly taking off his shoes and hustling to where you and your daughter were waiting for him, quickly finding his place in her choice of book for the night; jiyong walking into his quiet apartment, getting ready for bed—it seemed cosmic destiny could be re-directed.

their shared intuition was reborn in this new, matured stage in their lives: spoken in jiyong’s knocking on the door of the choi family household, carrying a gift bag for the birthday girl; seunghyun’s prideful gaze when finally getting to introduce his daughter to the man he owes his life to; in your comforting touch to his lower back, both you and your husband in awe, watching your daughter come out of her shell in a way you hadn’t seen before. “she really is a mini-you.” you told her father, tone soft; loving. “yeah.” seunghyun muttered. he quickly turned away, growing emotional. you caught on, turning with him. “c'mere.” you beckoned, welcoming him into your embrace. he sniffled into your shoulder, arms holding you close. “i’m really proud of you.” you told him. “i’m nothing without you.” he spoke sincerely. your fingers carded through his hair, palm falling to the nape of his neck, feeling his lips press a doting kiss to your cheek. “i love you, too.”

seunghyun saw jiyong out at the end of the night, walking him to his car. “you really opened a new avenue by getting her that lego set.” seunghyun smiled, hearing jiyong chuckle. “like, i knew she inherited her smarts from her mom. but now it's gonna be that, but tenfold.” “yeah.” jiyong laughed. “sooner or later, she’ll start talking circles around you.” “are you kidding?” seunghyun countered. “she memorized her times tables when she was six. i’ve been fucked.” they shared a brief hug. some of the awkwardness had yet to be overcome, but that was okay. if either have learned anything, it's that things take time. seunghyun gingerly waved as jiyong put his key in the ignition, waving back before putting his car in reverse. ushering off of the driveway, jiyong glanced at his rearview mirror. he caught sight of seunghyun ensuring he got out safely, walking inside the house once he approached the curb. jiyong came to a gradual halt, looking both ways before merging onto the street. it occurred to him he wasn’t the little boy at the block party anymore, but rather a man lucky enough to have a brother.

honey's taglist ☕️: @gongyoosgf @infinetlyforgotten @riddlerloveb0t @mesopotamism @pepsicolapussi @breakmeoff @thanosspills @moontabi @tabibabib @lexalith @lavenderobsessed @heartubeatusalon

[supernotnatural2005]

The Meet Cute

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: 99% of the time drinking leads to nothing but bad decisions and regret in the morning. But, what about the other 1% of the time?

Word count: 1786

Prompt: 'Hugged the wrong person from behind'

AN: Hey guys this is my first submission for @jacklesversebingo 2024 Bingo card. It is my first time doing one of these and I'm super excited to see what my brain comes up with! It's a challenge for sure but I hope you guys can enjoy the ride with me.

Main Masterlist

Bingo Masterlist

You winced a little at the burn of the whisky sliding down your throat. It was very much welcomed though, and so were the other two shots you’d done just before. 

Not only was it your sister's wedding, but you were her maid of honour and wedding planner. In her defence, it was your profession, so planning and weddings were two things you did well. But the added pressure of it being your baby sister's day and wanting it to be perfect had given you little room to breathe.

Though, once the initial ceremony had ended and you made sure all the guests had arrived and settled in at the afterparty, you finally took a moment to take that breath, aided by the sweet nectar of alcohol. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t your best idea to drink such a strong beverage on an empty stomach, as it wasn’t long until its side effects commandeered your body, mind, and actions. 

As you looked around at everyone enjoying themselves on the dance floor, your sister included, it brought a sense of relief and warmth knowing you made her day special. However, there was one face missing, and that was the face of your best friend, Matty. You’d been busy up to your eyeballs all day with arrangements, making sure people arrived on time and showing them where to go; you hadn’t even been able to see him yet, let alone say hello. 

You knew his flight this morning was delayed, so he had to miss the ceremony, but he was on schedule to make the party at least. Though even your sister or family hadn’t seen him. The last text he sent was to tell you that he’d landed, and that was nearing 2 hours ago. You deflated at the thought that he might miss this too. Matty was always the life of the party, ever since you’d met him your freshman year of college. Although you didn’t see each other as often as you’d liked, living in different cities and leading busy lives and all, you were always guaranteed a great time when he was around. 

However, as you finished your fourth shot, it was then you spotted someone at the other end of the bar. You had to squint a little through your gradually blurring vision, but you were certain it was him. He had his back to you, and he looked a little more built than when you last saw him, but he was already chatting away to some ridiculously handsome, tall guy you didn’t recognise; who was exactly his type, and was easily someone he’d be distracted by. 

Pushing aside the fact he hadn’t come to see you first, with giddy excitement you pushed away from the bar, steadying yourself briefly as your head spun a little, but wasted little time as you wonkily made your way towards your best friend. 

Foregoing the formalities and for the sudden need to hold onto something, you hugged him tightly from behind. He was definitely firmer than you remembered, and he smelt amazing, but Matty always did. 

“I’m so glad you’re here.” You sighed happily as you snuggled into his back, the effects of the alcohol well and truly in control. “And when did you get so fit?” You exemplified your point by patting his toned stomach with a giggle. 

“Y/N? What are you doing?” Your hand paused, and your eyes snapped open at the questioning voice of your best friend. It took you a moment to realise it hadn’t come from the body you were currently clung to, but from your right. Dread suddenly filled you as you slowly turned your head and were met with the amused face of your best friend. 

With a gasp, you jumped away from the stranger, losing your footing as you did. Thankfully the stranger grasped your arm before you could go down, not that it would make this situation any less embarrassing if you had. Though what did make it worse was when you finally looked up at said stranger and saw, quite possibly, the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life. 

He had the most captivating pair of green eyes you’d ever seen and a smattering of freckles covering his nose and cheeks. A stubbled jawline that could cut glass, and he was staring down at you with much of the same amusement your best friend had. 

“So, strangers are getting touched up before me now?” Matt teased as he walked over to you, shattering the little staring contest you and green eyes had gotten into. He let go of your arm quickly and took a polite step back at Matt’s presence, and you had to force yourself to look away from him. 

Your cheeks reddened at Matty’s remark, and you only wished for the floor to swallow you whole. Matty slung an arm over your shoulder and hugged you to him, which you half returned in your traumatised state. 

“I’m honestly so sorry; I’ve had a bit to drink and really thought you were him,” you jab a thumb in Matt’s direction, to which he bursts out laughing. 

“If you were really thinking that, then you must be drunk.” He laughs, and you can’t help but join in on the absurdity of the situation along with the other two men. 

“Honestly, don’t sweat it; it’s made my night, that’s for sure.” The handsome stranger waves you off with a chuckle, and his voice is deep and husky and does an array of things to you. ‘Seriously Y/N? Get yourself together’. 

You smile thankfully at him, relieved he found the funny side of it despite the crippling embarrassment you were currently feeling. 

“So, how do you both know the bride?” Matty speaks up, and you want to smack him so hard. You were hoping to make your escape and hide in the restroom for the rest of the night, not prolong your suffering. 

“My brother Sammy here works with the groom.” Green eyes pats the tall one on the back, and you note his tight-lipped smile at the obvious nickname. It makes your lips twitch in amusement. 

“We’re junior partners at KS Attorney’s.” Sam adds and you nod in acknowledgment. 

“And what about you?” You find yourself asking before you could even stop yourself. Green eyes looks at you, his eyes sparkling as a sly smirk lifts his noticeably plump lips. ‘Or did you just notice that? Focus Y/N!’

“Well, I’m just here to crash the wedding." He grins proudly, “Meet a few of the bridesmaids.” He winks at you, and you scoff. 

“Well, I don’t mean to burst your bubble,” you pause for him to give you his name, which he supplies with a smirk. “Dean,” you repeat. “But I’m maid of honour, and this is my sister's wedding.” You cross your arms and arch a brow. It makes his cocky attitude drop instantly, and it’s quite amusing to watch him fumble. 

“I, you know. I’m just kidding.” He stumbles with a nervous chuckle, and you narrow your eyes playfully at him until you feel you’ve made him uncomfortable enough. 

“Don’t worry about it." You concede your teasing with a chuckle. “Weddings are supposed to be fun, right?” You shrug before waving him closer to you like you’re about to tell him a secret. He easily obliges, and you try to ignore the close proximity and the delicious scent of him again before you speak.

“Just watch out for the brunette; she’s a little on the crazy side.” You nod your head over at Tiffany, one of the bridesmaids and he follows your direction to the dance floor. She was in your sister's circle of friends, but she was well-known for being a little clingy with men. 

You’d heard she’d burnt her last boyfriend's clothes when he didn’t return her calls for a few hours, convinced he was cheating on her. He wasn’t. He was visiting his sick grandmother, something he’d told her the night before.

“Noted.” Dean nods seriously as you pull back and looks away thoughtfully, as if he were thinking of something important before his eyes snap to you again. “What about the maid of honour? Is she game?” Your heart flutters a little at the smoothness of his implication, and you can’t stop your shy smile. You had to look away from him, and it was then you noticed the other two were missing. You frown and look around before you spot Matty and Sam further down the bar with a beer each. Matty catches your eye and winks at you before pointing at you and then Dean and making a vulgar gesture with his hand and mouth. You roll your eyes before you look back at Dean.

“I see we’ve been ditched.” You scoff humorously and Dean’s smirk wideness.

“And you haven’t answered my question.” He points out cooly and leans against the bartop; his stare intense, making you squirm a little. Men at this magnitude of hotness never hit on you, and if it wasn’t for the alcohol still running through your veins, you’re certain you would have malfunctioned by now. 

“She is not.” You decide to lie and bite your lip as you too lean against the bar. Dean’s brow raises as if he were surprised by your admission, and you try not to look him in the eye too much. 

“Oh really? And who’s the lucky guy?” You try to fight your smile, and the blush you’re certain is already staining your cheeks. Instead of answering, your eyes subtly flicker over to Matty, and Dean’s smile broadens, his eyes glimmering with mischief. 

“You and him?” He nods his head back in their direction, and you shrug with a confident smile, which soon falters when he leans in close to whisper in your ear. “Sweetheart, if that were true, I’d hate to be the one to tell you that your boyfriend is currently flirting up a storm with my brother.” 

He pulls back with a cocky smirk, and you can’t contain yourself much longer. Laughter bubbles out of you uncontrollably because it’s true. You and Dean both watch as an uncomfortable Sam tries to dodge Matty’s obvious advances with tears in your eyes.

“We should probably go save him. Matty’s nothing if not persistent.” You breathe out, still trying to calm yourself as you wipe gently at your under-eyes.

"Nah, Sammy’s a big boy; he can fend for himself.” Dean shrugs off with a smile. "Besides, you still have a question to answer and no more B.S.” He points at you half serious, and you can’t find it in you to lie this time. 

AN: There you go guys, my first bingo square complete. Let me know what you guys think. Also I am open to maybe expanding on this story, like a prequel and maybe another chapter... Let me know if you'd be interested to see more of this.

[icycoldninja]

Hi and welcome back! Can i request MGR Raiden x Autistic Fem Reader: Where the reader gives Raiden affection (like kissing him on the cheek or lips, and gives him a hug) everytime he comes back from missions before spending the rest of the day together, as for Raiden, he enjoys them and appreciate it as the reader accepted him of who he is.

A few days went by, everything between Raiden and the reader was going fine. Until he starts noticing Jake The Ripper has been restless (like feeling him clawing to get out) and doesn't understand why. But he managed to keep his alter-ego at bay. However, it eventually became more difficult for Raiden while hiding his inner struggle from the reader and keeping his distance (fearing of what Jake might do to her).

When the reader noticed Raiden has not been himself, she gets concerned and went to see him (wonder of what's wrong). Instead, she gets an unexpected visit from Jack The Ripper and his appearance made her nervous at first until it turned out that he was jealous of Raiden getting affection from the reader.

After the reader and Jack talked it out, he gives Raiden back control and gets concerned (and apologies to her). The reader reassures him before explaining to him of what happened? And is it okay if you can add a fluff ending?

Side Note: Hopefully you had a good new year's eve, and when i was writing this request, i'm curious of how Jack The Ripper interacts with an autistic reader. So i won't mind of how you'll write this, and this is my first time requesting on here. Have a good day or night 😊

Thank you, I know this is really late and I apologize, but I've been doing great and hope you are too! Enjoy!

Kisses (MGR!Raiden x Fem!Autistic!Reader)

If there was one thing Raiden could say his life previously lacked and that he wished he had more of it, it was love.

From a painfully early age, he'd been introduced to the dark arts of quiet murder and forced onto the battlefield to fight for causes he couldn't even understand, taking the lives of people he didn't know, all without a moral purpose, being driven on only by the jolts to his brain's pleasure center that his superiors would give him as a sick reward every time he made a kill.

That was the way he lived for a long time, clawing, scrambling, stabbing and choking all so he could experience that fleeting moment of ecstasy. No child, teenager, or full grown adult should have ever been treated that way, but Raiden was, and it took its toll on him. He developed an alter ego to control his murderous tendencies that had engraved themselves into his very soul over the years, and even gave him a name: Jack, after him. People added "the Ripper" part later on and it just stuck.

Jack the Ripper hadn't come out since you walked into his life. You gave him everything he wished he had in his life, and more. You gave him love, you gave him affection, you gave him attention, you made him feel safe, and most of all, you made him look forward to coming home.

Before, his house was just that; a house. A cold, soulless building he could take shelter in for a night. He would never get too attached to it since there was nothing worth attaching himself to—it could have burned down while he was away and he wouldn't have even cared. Now it was someplace warm, usually filled with the smell of waffles, freshly made coffee, or baked bread, somewhere he could relax in; a place where he could be him. He would defend this place and all that was in it with his life, or die trying.

Every little "Jackie!!" that greeted him when he set foot through the door sent his electric heart into overdrive. He never understood why you called him that, but he found it adorable when you did, even if the name "Jackie" made him think you were referring to a lady whose full name was Jacqueline.

He lived for the way you'd throw yourself into his arms and squeeze him like he was a stress ball, (in a way he was) and felt like melting into a puddle of metallic goo every time you kissed him. You seemed to like kissing him because you would kiss him all over; on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his lips—or what remained of them—and his jaw, completely disregarding the sharpness of the metal. You loved him unconditionally, it was clear, and he loved you for that, more than you would ever know.

You would always cling to his side after he got home, and he never objected. Raiden would cherish each and every one of these moments—they brought him joy like nothing else ever could and anything he might have enjoyed in the past paled in comparison. Yes, even his childhood "reward".

You could have said that your relationship was as smooth and sweet as a bar of high quality milk chocolate, but that would have been an understatement. Besides, things didn't stay that peaceful for long; a few days had gone by and Raiden was acting more unusual than usual, which could be pretty unusual. You normally wouldn't have paid it much mind, since Raiden's behavior changed from time to time and he tended to do very bizarre things, such as attempting to channel electrolytes into the toaster, but this time, he was talking to himself—and he wasn't absently making remarks like "oh, I should buy vegetables" or something of that sort. He was having full on, very serious conversations with himself, usually directed at the palm of his right hand. Whatever he was arguing with himself about must have been very grim indeed, as it eventually drove him to lock himself in the bedroom and stay there for hours, refusing to come out for any reason or even crack open the door to talk.

What he wasn't telling you was that his alter ego, the very same one he'd named, was trying to get out. He'd kept Jack the Ripper's existence a secret from you up until this point, and was hoping to keep it that way. Jack the Ripper was far too violent, far too psychotic, far too much of a piece of shit to be near you, but at the rate his control over him was declining, he might not have any say in the matter.

Meanwhile, you were getting frustrated. Raiden could do some pretty weird things, and you didn't mind that much, but his behavior indicated something was seriously wrong, and in a healthy relationship like this one, when something is this wrong, you need to discuss it. So, you retrieved a spare key to your bedroom that Raiden ironically asked you to keep in the kitchen in case you locked yourself out of your own room, and used it to get in. You weren't sure what to expect from him once you got there, but it sure wasn't this.

"Jackie?" You asked, of the quivering, convulsing mass writhing on the floor. "Are you okay?"

"Okay?" Repeated the mass angrily. "Do I look okay?" Raiden—or at least what you thought was Raiden—heaved himself up off the floor and approached you predatorily. This convinced you that the person before you wasn't who you thought it was.

"Who are you? What did you do to him?" You demanded. You weren't exactly in a place to make demands, since the approaching menace had you cornered between himself and the door, but you demanded anyway.

"I didn't do anything," He answered. "Why would I anyway? I need his body to live. If anyone did anything to him, it was you."

"Me?!"

"You."

"What'd I do?!" You couldn't believe this new person inhibiting Raiden's body was accusing you of all people of having done something to him. You liked to think you were doing a good job as his girlfriend.

"You made him all mushy inside," The thing that was and yet was not Raiden sneered. "With all your food, and your squealing, and your kissing." He paused a moment and narrowed his one eye, which was a frightening shade of red, shoulders heaving dramatically, as if he were fighting back the urge to grab you by the throat and strangle you. Trembling, you placed your hand on the doorknob and gripped it tightly, fearing you might have to make a break for it very soon.

In a few moments, "Raiden" spoke again.

"Oh God, the kissing! Why do you have to kiss him so much?!"

"What?!"

"That's right, girlie! You and all your sappy, lovey-dovey garbage has had him mentally doing cartwheels—head over heels in love, as they say."

"Well...isn't that a good thing?" You challenged. "If you...live inside him, shouldn't you be happy that he's happy?"

"No!" The being exploded. "I sure as hell ain't happy!"

"Why not?"

"Because I want kisses too!"

Silence fell upon the room. Cold and tense, it had the effect of stiffening every single one of your muscles, preventing you from throwing the door open and bolting down the hall, as you originally planned. Frozen with fear and confusion, you stared at him with wide, trembling eyes, trying desperately to understand what he just said.

"Could...you repeat that...please?" You said these words in a barely audible whimper, worried that he would attack you for speaking too loudly. Judging from how he took deep, shivering breaths while raking his claws up and down his metal legs to produce a horrible screeching noise, he probably would.

"Never mind." He grumbled, turning away and walking over to the nearby window.

"Uh, wait," You began, still flattened against the door. "You still...umm...haven't answered my question."

"Oh yeah?" Growled he, fixing his red eyeball on you. "And what was that again?"

"Who are you?" When he sharply turned away again, you feared he was preparing to attack. Thankfully, he only sighed, ran his claws up and down his legs again and answered,

"Name's Jack. Jack the Ripper. I'm kinda like your lover boy's other self. A more...violent self."

"But you are him, right?"

"No. Well...kinda. It's complicated. We share the same body and some memories. But one thing's for sure," The way his voice dipped suddenly made you jump slightly and turn the doorknob just a little bit in anticipation.

"Yeah," Jack the Ripper resumed. "One thing's for sure. We can't feel what the other one's feeling. So when you kiss him, I DON'T GET SHIT!"

His sudden proclamation echoed throughout the room for a solid six seconds, and had the same freezing effect as his silence. The good news was that this clarified a lot of things for you—this whole time, Jack the Ripper was just jealous. Poor guy. He must have been through more stuff than Raiden had, with absolutely no one to hold him or keep him company, or kiss him, like he so desperately desired.

"I'm sorry," You ventured, journeying away from the door and up to him. He was now staring angrily at the window, not looking through it, but rather glaring at it, as if he was trying to slice the glass with his gaze. "Honestly, I didn't know you even existed."

"Yeah, real typical of ol' "Jackie" to keep me hidden," Jack the Ripper mumbled bitterly.

"Well, I'm apologizing on his behalf, ok?" You said, taking one of his balled up fists in yours. "Can't say what he wanted, but I sure didn't mean to make you jealous, it's just, I only thought there was one of you in there."

"Well now you know." Huffed the Ripper.

"I do know. And...well...I wouldn't mind giving you that kiss now."

"There's no point," The cyborg sighed. "It'd feel like you're pitying me, and I hate being pitied."

"But I'm not—"

"Save it for Raiden," He cut you off, yanking his hand out of yours. "Thanks for hearing me out, I guess."

With that, he sat on the bed, put his head in his hands, and went immobile for the next minute or so. When he looked up again, Raiden—the real Raiden—was back in control, and upon seeing your wide-eyed expression, let out a long, suffering groan, and slowly stood up.

"Are you...back to yourself?" You almost hesitated to ask.

"Yes," Raiden exhaled, standing up. "Sorry you had to see that. That was Jack the Ripper, he—"

"He introduced himself, don't worry," You interjected softly. "I also found out he's very jealous. Of us."

"He demanded kisses from you," Raiden nodded. "I know, I heard." He blew out a sigh before continuing, "I'm sorry for keeping him a secret. I should've known he was gonna come out sooner or later, but I didn't think it'd be this soon. I just couldn't control him anymore. Sorry."

"It's fine, it's fine!" You insisted, a big grin breaking out onto your face. "He seems fun. I kinda like him."

"Do ya now?" Raiden let out an unconvinced series of dry chuckles. "Really? That's rare—he's got his name for a reason."

"I don't think so," You shrugged. "I think he's misunderstood. All he really seems to want is kisses."

"He must get that from me." Raiden said simply, insinuating his desires. Without missing a beat, you leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips, then pulled back and did it again.

"That one's for 'the Ripper'," You told him playfully, able to see the confusion in his eyes.

From that moment forwards, every time you hugged, kissed, or gave Raiden any kind of affection in general, you did it twice, one for him, and one for Jack the Ripper. It has so far kept both of them very happy.

[snowseasonmademe]

A Beloved Reunion

word count: 8,275

warning ‼️: smut !

paring: levi x black female reader

summary: levi come home after being away for what feels like an eternity and you both properly welcome him home.

note: hi everyone! here’s my first levi fic. i know it’s long yall but it’s real good (😏). thanks to the anon who asked me to wrote this. it actually took a lot longer than i thought it would but i like writing anyway so it’s okay. as i said in my last post im gonna go for a bit because the people on this app are insane. one of my moots had to leave completely and im really upset about it. nobody should ever be doxxed over a football debate. anyway y’all, enjoy this super sweet lover boy levi. and ofc tell me what you think !

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The sound of the front door opening was soft, almost hesitant, but it yanked you out of your restless sleep. For a moment, you thought you were imagining things, but then the creak of the floorboards—that familiar creak—sent a jolt through you. Your heart raced as realization sank in: Levi was home.

You threw the duvet off, feet barely brushing the floor as you padded quickly toward the living room. Outside, rain pattered against the windows, its rhythmic drumming a perfect backdrop to the storm of emotions brewing inside you. Twelve days. Twelve long days without him. The ache of his absence had been a constant companion, and now, finally, it was over.

When you saw him standing there, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his dark curls slightly mussed, you froze. He looked… different. His shoulders, already broad, seemed even wider, stretching the fabric of his hoodie. His chest looked fuller, tapering down to a trim waist that hinted at hours in the gym. Even his arms—strong before—seemed impossibly bigger now, the sleeves of his hoodie hugging them snugly. You stared, unblinking, as your gaze trailed down the sharp cut of his jaw, now more defined, the slight scruff on his face only adding to his rugged appeal.

"Hi my love" he said, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

You didn't respond immediately, your brain still catching up with your heart. He looked… good. Better than good. He looked like every fantasy you'd conjured in his absence, but somehow even better. He wasn't just Levi; he was Levi 2.0, impossibly more attractive, and the sight of him left your mouth dry.

When you finally moved, it was instinctive. You closed the distance between you in a few quick strides, throwing your arms around his waist and pressing yourself against him. His bag hit the floor with a heavy thud, and his arms were around you just as quickly, holding you tightly. His body was firm, solid in a way that made you feel safe and something more… something hotter.

He buried his face into your neck, his warm breath brushing your skin as he inhaled deeply. "God I missed you" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"Twelve days" you whispered, your voice trembling as your hands roamed over his back, the muscles there impossibly hard beneath his hoodie. "It felt like a year."

"Never again" he promised, his lips brushing your skin. "I mean it babe. I'm not going that long without you. I barely slept."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands framing your face. His thumbs stroked your cheeks as if to memorize your touch all over again. His brown eyes, soft and glassy with emotion, searched yours. "God I missed you" he said again, his voice raw. "I missed everything about you."

You let your fingers trace the curve of his jawline, noting how much sharper it felt, and how his cheekbones stood out just a bit more. "Missed you too baby" you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Then, unable to help yourself, you added, "But you've been busy lifting semi-trucks, haven't you? Look at you—what are they feeding you on during training?"

His grin was sheepish, but his eyes sparkled with warmth. "You like it?" he teased, stepping back slightly to flex his arm. The movement was playful, and sexy. The way his bicep strained against the fabric of his hoodie made your breath hitch.

"Like it?" you repeated, the heat in your tone unmistakable as your gaze shamelessly roamed his frame. "I love it."

His grin widened, and he closed the space between you again, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. "I was hoping you'd notice" he said softly, his voice laced with amusement.

"Notice?" You gave him a teasing smirk, though your pulse was racing. "Baby it's hard not to notice."

The way you said it—low and full of heat—made him chuckle, though a faint blush crept up his neck. "Alright, alright" he said, shaking his head but clearly pleased. "Let me shower first. I smell like plane air."

You tilted your head, giving him an exaggerated sniff. "Yeah, you do" you teased, though the playful glint in your eyes softened with longing. "Go on then. Twenty minutes tops."

"I’ll make it eighteen" he promised, already heading toward the bathroom. But before disappearing through the doorway, he turned back, catching you staring at him with a look that made his smirk return. And as he disappeared, you found yourself biting your lip, heart pounding. If Levi thought you'd missed him before, he had no idea just how much you missed all of him now.

When he returned, the sight of him stole your breath. His skin was still damp from the shower, a few rogue droplets clinging to the sharp lines of his collarbone and trailing down his chest, disappearing beneath the crisp white T-shirt that clung to him like a second skin. His hair was darker now, wet and curling at the edges, framing his sharp temples in a way that made your stomach flutter. He looked like a dream—one so vivid it felt impossible to look away.

The shirt, stretched over his impossibly broad shoulders and snug against the defined ridges of his chest, left little to the imagination. It was unfair, really, how good he looked—bigger, stronger, and somehow even more magnetic than before. Your gaze shamelessly roamed his frame, lingering on the way his forearms flexed as he wiped his hand over his face, brushing away the lingering wetness from his shower. Even the slight scruff along his jaw, dark and rugged, only added to the devastating effect he had on you.

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you drank him in, your pulse quickening with each second you spent staring. It was almost ridiculous how turned on you were, how seeing him like this—freshly showered, built like a work of art, and effortlessly beautiful—sent a wave of longing crashing over you. Your fingers tightened around the duvet as you tried to keep your composure, but it was useless. He was yours, and right now, all you wanted was to feel him, to have him.

Without hesitation, Levi crawled into bed beside you, pulling you close as though you were the only thing tethering him to the earth. The warmth of his freshly showered skin seeped into you, and the clean, masculine scent of his soap made your head spin. Your cheek rested against his chest, the firm muscle beneath rising and falling steadily, but the feeling of his body—newly bulked and impossibly solid—was making it hard to focus on anything else.

"You're not allowed to leave me again" he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head as his arm curled possessively around you. "I don't care if the Queen herself calls you. You're staying right here."

His voice was low, rough with fatigue, but there was an unmistakable edge of need in it. You let out a soft laugh, your fingers trailing over the planes of his chest. The shirt was no barrier to the heat of him, nor the way the muscles shifted beneath your touch. "And here I thought you were the busy one" you teased, though your voice betrayed how distracted you were by the sheer physicality of him.

"Don't care" he muttered, his grip tightening as he pressed a kiss into your hair. "We'll figure it out. I'm not sleeping without you again babe. It was torture."

You tilted your head to look up at him, your hand sliding up to cup his cheek. His jawline, more defined than ever, felt sharp beneath your fingers, and the slight scruff there added a ruggedness that made your heart race. "You're so clingy" you teased softly, though your pulse was hammering.

"Just making up for lost time" he countered with a smirk, his brown eyes glinting as he leaned down to press his lips to yours. The kiss started slow, his lips warm and soft against yours. He kissed you like he was rediscovering every inch of you, savoring the way you fit against him, the way your lips moved together. You pulled back, admiring how sexy he was, even when he was exhausted.

"What are you looking at?" he asked sarcastically. "I'm looking at you Levi, you look so good right now….It's a problem. How am I supposed to focus when you look this good?". His laughter was soft, rumbling in his chest as he tightened his hold on you. "Good thing you don't need to focus right now" he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. "Just relax love. I'm not going anywhere."

But relaxing was easier said than done with him this close, his freshly showered skin warm against yours, and the scent of his soap—clean and masculine—making your head spin. Your fingers couldn't stop exploring, tracing over every ridge and curve as if memorizing him all over again. It was impossible not to notice how much bigger he felt, how every part of him seemed stronger, harder.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" you whispered, tilting your head to look up at him.

"Dangerous?" he repeated, his brow arching playfully.

"For my sanity" you clarified, though your voice trembled with the depth of your desire.

His gaze softened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. "You're the one driving me mad" he murmured against your mouth, his voice rough with emotion. "You have no idea how much I missed you."

And just like that, the teasing gave way to something deeper, more urgent. His kisses deepened, the slow burn of longing igniting between you, and every touch, every whispered word, reminded you that he was yours—stronger, more beautiful, and impossibly more irresistible than ever.

When you pulled back, slightly breathless, he whispered, "I love you. So much. It actually hurts being away from you."

His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and it made your chest ache. "I love you too" you murmured, your fingers tangling in his curls. They were softer than you expected, and you couldn't resist tugging lightly, just to feel the way he melted into your touch. "More than anything."

His kisses deepened, the feeling of yearning changed into something more urgent. His hands roamed your body with a reverence that made your heart ache, as if he were memorizing every curve, every dip. The feel of his larger, stronger hands on your waist sent a wave of heat through you, and you couldn't stop yourself from pressing closer.

"I need you" he breathed against your skin, his voice thick with raw emotion. "I need you, baby. Right now. Please."

There was something almost desperate in his tone, a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. "I'm yours" you whispered, your voice barely audible as your lips brushed his. "I'm right here"

His response was a low, guttural sound as he kissed you again, this time with a hunger that left you trembling. His hands explored you with a tenderness that belied the strength behind them, mapping every inch of your body like he was relearning you after too long apart. His lips pressed soft, heated kisses along your neck, his whispered words of love and longing sending shivers down your spine.

"Every damn night, I missed this. Missed you. Missed your touch, your smell, the way you feel…"

"I thought about this every night" he confessed between kisses, his voice rough. His words trailed off as his lips found yours again, his hands cradling your face as though you were the most precious thing in the world. He kissed you with an intensity that left no doubt of how much he'd missed you, his body pressing against yours in a way that made you ache for him. The heat between you grew with every press of his lips, every sweep of his tongue against yours. It wasn't rushed—if anything, it felt intentional, as though he wanted to savor every second of this moment after being apart for so long.

The rain outside created a soft, rhythmic melody, its steady patter a comforting contrast to the rising tension in the room. Levi shifted slightly, leaning over you, his hand slipping to your waist as he deepened the kiss. His thumb brushed the bare skin just above your hip, sending shivers through you. The weight of his body pressing against yours was grounding, his strength and warmth a stark reminder of just how much you'd missed him.

When he finally pulled back, both of you slightly breathless, he rested his forehead against yours. His warm, brown eyes searched yours, filled with something raw and unfiltered. "I love you" he whispered, his voice low and full of yearning. "I don't think I even realized how much I need you until I didn't have you."

His words made your chest tighten, and you reached up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing the sharp line of his jaw. "You have me now" you whispered back, your voice trembling with emotion. "I love you too Levi"

Levi exhaled slowly as if grounding himself in your words. He kissed you again, this time even slower, even gentler, his lips exploring yours with a reverence that made you drip. His hands moved to cradle the sides of your neck, his thumbs brushing over your pulse points. It felt as though he wanted to feel every part of you, as though he couldn't get close enough.

The warmth of his freshly showered skin seeped into yours as he shifted again, his body settling more fully against you. One of his hands slid down your side, his palm wide and firm as it mapped the curve of your waist. When his fingers skimmed the bare skin beneath the hem of your oversized T-shirt, you felt a jolt of heat spark through you.

"You're unreal" he murmured, his voice rough, his gaze locked onto yours. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world—made you feel both cherished and desired in a way that left you breathless.

His lips returned to yours, trailing kisses down your jaw and neck, taking his time as he lingered over the sensitive spots that made you shiver. You could feel his body tensing against you, the strength in his arms caging you in without ever making you feel trapped. His kisses grew hungrier, the gentle pressure of his lips giving way to something deeper, more demanding.

His strong hands pushed the hem of your—his—oversized T-shirt up, revealing the soft skin of your bare torso. The room's cool air contrasted deliciously with his touch's heat, making you shiver. His fingers brushed along your sides, pausing just below your ribs, before sliding down to the waistband of your panties. He hooked a finger under the fabric and pushed them down with extreme leisure, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you feel utterly exposed and completely worshipped all at once.

He stilled for a moment, his calloused fingertips tracing lazy patterns on your inner thighs, sending shivers coursing through your body. His touch was featherlight, as if savoring the feel of your skin beneath his hands, but the intensity in his eyes told a different story. His gaze flicked downward, lingering where his hands rested just shy of where you wanted him most. When his eyes finally met yours again, they were darker than you'd ever seen them, filled with an unmistakable hunger that sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

You felt utterly exposed under his gaze, his presence overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. The sound of the rain against the window faded into the background, leaving only the rhythm of your breaths and the electric tension between you. His thumb shifted slightly, brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and your breath hitched. You felt like a tightly coiled spring, every nerve ending attuned to him, waiting, aching for his next move.

Levi's chest rose and fell heavily as he stared at you, his lips slightly parted. The air between you crackled with anticipation, and you could see the subtle clench of his jaw as if he was holding himself back. "You're perfect" he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "I don't think you understand what you do to me."

His words sent a flush of heat through you, and your thighs instinctively pressed together, desperate for some kind of relief. But Levi's hands immediately slid to your knees, gently prying them apart as his gaze pinned you in place. "No" he said softly but firmly, his voice thick with desire. "Don't hide from me. Let me see you."

The vulnerability in the moment made your pulse race, but the intensity of his gaze—filled with reverence and raw need—gave you the courage to relax under his touch. His hands slid back up your thighs, this time with more purpose, the pads of his fingers pressing into your skin in a way that left you trembling. He leaned down, his broad shoulders framing your view, his curls brushing against your bare thighs as he moved closer.

The first brush of his lips against the inside of your thigh made you gasp, the warmth of his mouth contrasting with the cool air of the room. He took his time, placing wet kisses along your skin, his scruff adding an edge of roughness that sent sparks shooting through you. Each kiss brought him closer to where you needed him, but he never rushed, savoring every inch of you as though you were the most precious thing he'd ever touched.

"Levi" you whispered, your voice barely audible, but he heard you. He glanced up, his eyes locking with yours, and the corner of his mouth lifted in the faintest smirk.

"Be patient with me baby" he said, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver through you. "I've waited twelve days for this. I'm gonna take my time."

His words hung in the air, thick with promise, as his hands moved to your hips, grounding you beneath his touch. He exhaled, his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive spot, and your body reacted instantly, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

"Fuck I missed this pretty pussy baby" he rasped, his voice vibrating against your skin as he finally leaned in. His warm breath fanned over your pussy, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. His hands, now firm and steady, rested on your stomach, holding you in place as he finally gave in to his need for you.

His first lick was soft, almost teasing—just a gentle swipe over your sensitive bundle of nerves, as if testing the waters. Your body shuddered in response, a throaty moan spilling from your lips before you could stop it. He smiled against your clit, the curve of his lips wicked and full of intent.

"You taste even better than I remembered" he murmured, his voice low and husky, the vibrations of his words sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

Your breath hitched, your fingers gripping the sheets as he pressed his tongue flat against you, dragging it slowly from your entrance to your clit. The pace was maddening, his every movement calculated to unravel you. He delved deeper, parting your folds with his tongue to taste every inch of you, like a man savoring the thing he craved most in the world.

He groaned against your skin, his hands gripping your thighs firmly to hold you in place.

"Mmmm” You whimpered, your body trembling as he took his time exploring you. Each swipe of his tongue was precise, teasing and torturous in equal measure. His hands slid upward, fingers splaying over your hips before making their way to your breasts. He cupped them gently, his thumbs circling your nipples in time with the strokes of his tongue, doubling the pleasure coursing through your body.

"Oh Please" you gasped, your hands flying to his hair, desperate to anchor yourself as your hips bucked against his mouth. "I need more- I need you inside. Please. I missed you. I just want to feel you baby"

His groan was guttural, the weight of your words spurring him on. He curled his fingers under your thighs, pulling your legs further over his shoulders to open you up completely. "Fuck, I love hearing you say that" he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. His lips returned to your clit, this time sucking gently before releasing it with a wet pop that had you crying out. His tongue worked in small circles, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from you while his hands gripped your thighs with enough force to leave marks.

"You're so beautiful like this" he said between licks, his voice laced with awe. "Open up a little bit more for me". You did. You spread your legs wider than before, letting him taste even more of you.

You could barely form words, your body arching against him as the tension in your core built to an almost unbearable peak. "Please, don't stop. Don't tease me… I'm so close." you stammered, your voice breaking with need.

He slowed his pace , his lips ghosting over your clit instead of diving back in. "Not yet" he murmured with a smirk, his eyes dark with a mix of love and hunger as he looked up at you. "I want to take my time"

His tongue flicked over you again, this time paired with the scrape of his teeth—a sensation so unexpected and electrifying that it left you gasping. "Say it" he demanded softly, his fingers digging into your thighs as he pressed closer. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours" you choked out, your voice trembling with desperation. "I've always been yours. I'll always be yours. Just—please—don't make me wait any longer."

His groan vibrated against you, the sound dripping with triumph and desire. "That's my girl" he whispered before his mouth returned to you with renewed purpose, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to drive you over the edge. This time, he didn't stop—didn't back off—giving you everything you needed, everything you'd been yearning for.

And when you shattered beneath him, your cries filling the room, he held you tighter, drinking in every sound, every tremor, as though he needed it just as much as you. You tried pushing his head away, to stop you from being overstimulated but, he didnt move.

"Wait, Im not done yet baby" he murmured against your core, his voice a low rumble that sent vibrations straight through you. His warm breath fanned over your most sensitive place, making your thighs tremble. "I'm not done tasting you yet. I need more" His lips pressed a lingering kiss against your clit, soft and reverent, before he dipped back down, his tongue thrusting deep inside you.

The movement was steady at first, his tongue curling up to press against that spot that made your hips buck uncontrollably. A low groan escaped him as he felt your body respond, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you in place. "Taste so good" he whispered, the words barely audible over the wet sounds of his mouth working against you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, desperate for more. "Please" you gasped, your voice trembling. "Don't stop… please don't stop."

He glanced up at you, his eyes dark with hunger but soft with affection. One of his hands slid upward, his fingers pinching your nipple softly, sending shocks of pleasure through you. The other hand trailed down to your entrance, teasing you with just the tip of his finger, slipping inside briefly before pulling back again. He chuckled low in his throat at the way your hips sought him out, your need for him evident. His mouth resumed its heavenly rhythm, alternating between gentle sucking and firm pressure with his tongue. The sensations overwhelmed you, every nerve ending alight with pleasure as his skilled mouth worked you closer and closer to the edge.

"I really need you" you whimpered, your voice breathless as your hips arched toward him. "I've missed this so much. I've missed you. Please—" His pace quickened in response, his mouth firm against you now, his tongue moving in tandem with the finger he finally pushed inside you. He curled it just right, coaxing cries of pleasure from your lips, before adding a second finger, stretching you in the most delicious way.

"Oh my god yes" you cried out, your voice trembling with desperation. "Oh Im gonna cum, Im gonna cum". The raw need in your voice pushed him further. He moved one hand to press firmly against your lower belly, angling you perfectly to feel every flick of his tongue and stroke of his fingers. "That's it" he urged, his voice thick with satisfaction as he buried his face between your thighs. “Give it to me."

His nose pressed against your clit as he lapped furiously, his fingers pumping in and out with a rhythm so precise it left you helpless against the onslaught of pleasure. Your body began to tremble uncontrollably, your thighs quivering against his shoulders as your orgasm built impossibly high.

And then it hit you, the wave of pleasure crashing over you so intensely that it left you crying out his name, your back arching completely off the bed. Your entire body convulsed, wave after wave of ecstasy wracking you as your vision blurred and whitened. His name was the only word you could manage as your pussy clenched around his fingers, dripping against his mouth as he continued to devour you, drawing out every last spasm of pleasure.

When you finally stilled, trembling and spent, he kissed your inner thigh softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips. "Fucking delicious" he murmured, his voice filled with pride and love. You couldn't speak, your chest heaving as you reached for him, needing his warmth, his touch, his everything. And he was there, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close as you basked in the aftershocks of his love and devotion.

As the final tremors of your orgasm subsided, he licked his lips, savoring your taste like the finest dessert. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, dark and filled with a mix of pride and unrestrained desire as if your pleasure alone had completely unraveled him. With loving care, he lowered your legs from his shoulders, his large hands steadying you as though you were something fragile and sacred. He pressed tender kisses along your inner thighs, his lips lingering against your heated skin as he murmured something soft and inaudible, more to himself than to you

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your body still trembling from the intensity of what he'd just done to you. Levi leaned back slightly, his hands never leaving your body as his fingertips traced lazy, soothing patterns over your thighs and hips. The contrast between his earlier hunger and the gentle reverence in his touch now left you breathless all over again. His gaze roamed over you, taking in every inch of your flushed skin, your tousled hair, and the way your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath.

"You're so sexy" he said, his voice low and hoarse. The raw honesty in his tone made your heart swell, and your cheeks flushed under his unwavering attention. He reached up, brushing a damp curl from your forehead before leaning down to kiss you—soft and unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world to show you how much he adored you. He layed on top of you, kissing your lips, making you taste yourself. In that moment your heart swelled. You couldnt ask for anything more, or better.

When he pulled back, his lips hovered just above yours, and his hand slid down to your thigh, his fingers pressing into your skin as though grounding himself in the reality of you. "Lift your legs" he said softly, the rough edge to his voice making your breath hitch.

The command, quiet but laced with authority, sent a spark of heat racing through you. You listened without hesitation, lifting your legs to the sides of his hips and letting him guide you. You were so wrapped up in the feeling of his lips on yours and the taste of yourself in your mouth that you didn't feel him slightly slide down his boxers and take his rock-hard dick out. His hands steadied you as he shifted, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light as he positioned himself. He was unrushed in his movements, taking a moment to truly appreciate the sight of you. His gaze swept over your half-naked form, his eyes dark with desire as they lingered on the curves of your body, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the way your lips parted in anticipation. He took himself in hand, the head of his dick brushing against your sensitive entrance, and the sensation made your breath hitch.

He paused for just a moment, his gaze locking onto yours. "You okay baby?" he asked, his tone soft but tinged with urgency, as though he needed your reassurance before taking the next step.

You nodded, your voice trembling as you whispered, "Yes, Levi. Please."

That was all he needed. He would usually be a bit faster but this time he slowly pushed into you, his movements controlled, stretching and filling you in a way that felt different.

Did his dick get bigger too? It feels like our first time again. you thought to yourself

Levi groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping your thighs in the overwhelming sensation of being joined with you again.

Once he was fully inside you, he paused, letting you both adjust. His eyes never left yours, and the sheer intensity in his gaze made you feel utterly consumed. He exhaled, his breath brushing against your skin as he leaned down, shifting to be on top and settling his weight against you. His chest pressed against yours, warm and solid, as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the sound of the rain outside mingling with the quiet gasps of shared breaths. It was intimate, vulnerable, and overwhelming in the best possible way—two souls finding their way back to one another after far too long apart.

The heat radiating from his body enveloped you, pulling you into the kind of warmth that made your toes curl and your heart race. His weight pressed you into the mattress in the most delicious way, his broad frame covering you completely as he settled between your legs. The soft fabric of his boxers brushed against your bare skin, the teasing friction against your ass making you gasp.

He began to move agonizingly slowly. Each movement sent delicious friction coursing through your body, his hardness sliding perfectly against your slickness, his teasing making your walls clench in anticipation. The pace was calm, building a steady burn that left you craving him with every passing second. Your hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him even closer to you, your nails digging into his warm skin as you tried to pull him closer, but Levi held his ground, maintaining his torturous rhythm.

His lips found the curve of your neck, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin before his mouth pressed soft, lingering kisses there. Each kiss sent waves of heat through you, his lips exploring the sensitive spots he knew so well. He moved lower, his teeth grazing the delicate skin just above your collarbone before he sucked gently, the sharp contrast of pleasure and pain making you moan.

"Levi" you gasped, your voice shaky, as your fingers tangled in his curls.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration adding to the overload of sensations. "Hmm, you like that?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing, the deep timbre making your stomach flutter.

Before you could respond, he kissed the spot again, sucking harder this time, marking you in a way that left no doubt you were his. His hand slid up your side, his fingertips brushing along your ribs before settling just under your breast, his thumb tracing circles that sent sparks shooting through your body.

"You're so soft" he whispered, his lips moving against your skin as his hips rocked against you again, this time with a little more pressure. "Every damn night, I missed this." The combination of his words, his movements, and the heat of his body drove you wild. Your body arched against him, desperate for more, for all of him, but he continued his torturous pace, his control unshakable. The teasing friction, the possessive marks he left on your skin, and the low, reverent tone of his voice had you trembling beneath him, completely at his mercy.

Levi gently took your hands, his grip firm but tender, and guided them above your head, pressing them into the pillow. The dominance in the gesture sent a shiver down your spine, but the way his fingers intertwined with yours and held them gently grounded you in the warmth of his touch. His dark eyes bore into yours, his expression softening despite the commanding hold. He leaned in, so close that his breath mingled with yours, his forehead brushing against yours as he murmured, "Keep your hands here, okay?"

The tenderness in his voice made your chest tighten, his tone dripping with both care and desire. He rubbed soothing circles on your knuckles with his thumb, as if to remind you that he had you, that you were safe in his hands. "I need you to stay like this" he whispered, his voice dropping an octave, laced with yearning. His forehead pressed more firmly against yours, his lips grazing your nose in the most delicate of touches.

His words, spoken so softly yet so full of need, sent heat rushing through you. You nodded, your breath hitching, but before you could say anything, Levi kissed you. It wasn't rushed or desperate—it was consuming, the kind of kiss that made you forget the rest of the world existed.

Then he began to move again. His thrusts were slow but deep, each one filling you completely, making your back arch and your breath catch. The contrast between the commanding way he held your hands and the loving, almost worshipful way he gazed at you had your head spinning. He released one of his hands only usinf one to hold bothof yours. His free hand moved to your cheek, the calloused pad of his thumb brushing away a stray lock of hair as though he couldn't bear for anything to obscure his view of you.

"Look at me" he murmured, his tone both pleading and reverent. You quickly unrolled your eyes from the back of your head and locked eyes with him. His hips pressed into yours again, this time, the depth of each movement making you gasp. "Let me see you baby."

His eyes never left yours, their intensity making your heart race. "You're so beautiful," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion, as though the words weren't enough to convey how he felt. His gaze softened even further as he took you in, his body moving in perfect rhythm with yours, his love for you shining through every touch, every whispered word.

"I missed you so much" he confessed once again, his voice cracking slightly as he leaned in to kiss the corner of your mouth. "Twelve days without this, without you… was hell."

His hand moved from your cheek, trailing down to your jawline and then your neck, his fingers grazing your pulse point where your heart raced for him. "I love you" he whispered, his voice shaking with vulnerability. "More than anything."

The way he spoke, his words saturated with need and adoration, made you feel cherished in a way that went beyond the physical. You tightened your hands instinctively beneath his hold, wanting to pull him closer, but he chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Uh uh" he murmured, his tone teasing but firm. "Hands stay right there love. Let me take care of you."

And he did—each movement, each whispered declaration, each soft press of his lips against your skin, all of it reminded you of the depth of his love. Levi wasn't just making love to you; he was pouring his soul into every moment, making sure you felt exactly how much he'd missed you, how much he adored you, and how deeply he was yours.

Levi's grip on your hands remained firm but tender, his long fingers intertwined with yours as if anchoring you to him. The contrast between his soft touch and the powerful way he moved within you sent shivers down your spine. He held you steady, his body pressed tightly against yours, every roll of his hips passionate and claiming. His forehead dropped to yours, his warm breath mingling with yours, and the raw emotion in his eyes nearly brought tears to your own.

"Uuuhh, I missed you so fucking much Levi" you whispered, you voice hoarse and trembling with a need so intense it made his chest tighten. His lips brushed against yours, the kiss soft, almost reverent, as if he couldn't believe you were finally here with him. His thrusts sped up, his body pressing into yours with an unrelenting sweetness that made your toes curl and your mind blank.

Your breath hitched as he filled you completely, his hard length hitting the deepest, most sensitive parts of you. The pleasure was overwhelming, spreading through your body in waves that left you gasping for air. A soft whimper escaped your lips, your body arching to meet his, and Levi wasted no time capturing the sound with his mouth.

Your lips molded against his in a kiss that was velvety and consuming, your tongue brushing against his as he swallowed every little sound of pleasure you made. You kissed him like it was the only way to express the depths of your love, pouring everything you couldn't say into the way his lips moved against yours.

"You feel so good inside me baby" you murmured against his lips, your voice cracking slightly as if you were unable to put into words how intense your feelings were. Each thrust was faster and deeper, his body moving in unison with yours in an almost hypnotic rhythm. His eyes locked onto yours with a desperation that made your heart palpitate as he pressed his forehead against yours again. His gaze filled with nothing but adoration and yearning left you speechless. He tightened his hold on your hands, his tone possessive but full of love. squeezing them gently as if grounding himself in your presence

Every word, every kiss, every movement of his body felt like a promise—a reminder of how deeply he loved and needed you. The intensity of his emotions, combined with the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, left you trembling beneath him, completely and irrevocably his.

He suddenly picked up his pace, his throbbing dick slamming into your pussy with passion. All you could do was lay there and take it. But this is exactly what you've been craving. The love of your life giving you impossible amounts of pleasure. The sounds coming from both of you were borderline otherworldly. The sounds of the rain on the windows. The extremely dim room. Your sweat mixed with his. Your arousal fluids are all over his lower body. It was something straight out of a movie.

He dipped his head, capturing your lips in a kiss so achingly slow it felt like time itself stopped. Each movement of his mouth against yours spoke of longing, devotion, and the kind of love that seared itself into your soul.

"Oh God Levi, why are you fucking me like this?" you cry out in desperation. "Mmm because I love you, so much….fuck" he moans right against your ear, whispering a curse at the end.

His hips continued grinding inside and out. Long hard strokes to your inner walls. The tension between you built with every breath, every whispered word.

The intensity of your feelings washed over you, leaving you breathless and completely undone. His rhythm quickened slightly, and your hands clung to him, nails digging into his back as if afraid he might disappear. Tears slipped from the corners of your eyes as his words and actions intertwined, leaving no part of you untouched by his devotion. You felt completely loved, and completely his in this moment. Every breath you took seemed to draw him deeper into your soul, binding you to him in ways words could never capture.

"Its okay baby, dont cry" His voice was soft but laced with unshakable certainty, like a vow that reached into the very fabric of your being. He kissed the tears from your cheeks, each touch as tender as it was consuming, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then back to your mouth.

The kiss he gave you then was slower, filled with a yearning so potent it stole the air from your lungs. You gasped against him, the sound swallowed by his lips as his body pressed into yours with renewed urgency. His hand slid down your side, possessive yet gentle, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

Sensing your trembling, he paused, his lips brushing against your temple as he murmured, "I can feel you" he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours as he gazed into your eyes. He let go of your hands and immediatly moved his hands to hook under your shoulders.

Your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. "Uuh yes just like that, so so good" you cried out, rolling your eyes back, your voice catching as his hips rocked into you. Something shifted in him then, his need for you sharpening like a blade. He groaned low in his throat, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that left you trembling. His fingers slid over your clit, the sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, pulling a moan from deep within your chest.

"Cum for me Y/n" he whispered, his voice rough yet sweet as honey, his words spilling directly into your heart. The heat in his gaze was matched only by the tenderness in his touch. His movements grew more urgent, his hips driving into you with deep, purposeful thrusts that left no doubt of his devotion.

His fingers worked in perfect sync with his body, unrelenting, every motion designed to push you closer to the edge. "I want to feel it" he rasped, his lips grazing your neck, his teeth teasing just enough to make you shiver.

Your heart thundered in your chest as his words wrapped around you, their intensity only matched by the sensations he was pulling from you. Your body arched into him, surrendering completely as your breaths grew ragged, your world narrowing to the man above you.

Your breath became ragged, each exhale blending with his as his fingers worked magic on your sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing and circling with precision. His movements were skilled, practiced, but driven by pure need, his every action a worship of your body. Meanwhile, his dick hit just the right spot inside you with each steady thrust, igniting sparks that spread through every inch of your being.

With a final thrust, you felt him swell inside you, his body tensing as his release overtook him. His hot release spilled deep within, the sensation overwhelming, and then his lips captured yours in a searing, desperate kiss that left no space between you. The intensity of it all—the sound of his breathless groans, the way his body trembled against yours, the sheer devotion in the way he held you—pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm hit like a earthquake, your body convulsing with pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. You cried out into his mouth, your voice muffled as his tongue danced with yours, swallowing every sound you made. The world around you blurred, leaving nothing but the feeling of him—of his hands, his lips, his body completely intertwined with yours.

As the tremors of your release subsided, you collapsed into him, your heart still racing, your breaths uneven. He stayed inside you, unwilling to break the connection, his body heavy but comforting against yours. Slowly, he nuzzled your neck, his lips brushing the spot where your pulse pounded, planting soft kisses there that made your heart flutter all over again.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice hoarse but laced with tenderness as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His fingers gently brushed stray strands of hair from your damp forehead, his gaze filled with love so deep it made your chest ache.

You nodded, your arms finally free to wrap around his neck. "Yeah, Im happy" you whispered, your voice still shaky, but filled with sincerity. "You make me feel so good"

He smiled against your skin, his lips lingering on your collarbone. "I cant believe I went two weeks without that" he murmured, his voice breaking slightly as if overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. "I love making love with you"

He held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you as if afraid to let go. His warmth surrounded you, grounding you as the aftershocks of your shared passion rippled through your body. He kissed your shoulder, then your jaw, before resting his forehead against yours.

"I love you" he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words carried infinite depth. "You'll never understand how much."

Tears pricked at your eyes again, but this time they were tears of gratitude, of love so profound it couldn't be contained. "I love you too" you replied, pressing your lips softly to his. He smiled against your mouth, his kiss deepening once more, sweetly, as though savoring every second of the moment you shared.

His hands roamed over your back, broad palms leaving trails of warmth as they moved with quiet reverence. He loved holding you like this, keeping you close, feeling the way you fit so perfectly against him, as if your bodies were made for each other. You sighed softly, nuzzling against the crook of his neck, your fingers curling against his chest. He stayed there, still buried deep inside you, as though reluctant to let go of this perfect union.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, the sound of his soft breathing brushing your ear, and the soothing way his hands caressed your back all worked to lull you into a state of blissful peace. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, cradled in his love, completely safe, completely his. Minutes stretched into what felt like eternity before he moved. With infinite care, he carefullly pulled out, his lips grazing yours in a lingering kiss, as if reluctant to part from you in even the smallest way.

Rolling onto his back, he brought you with him, his strong arms wrapping around you and anchoring you securely against his side. Nestled against him, you rested your head on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a calming balm to your still-racing thoughts. zzling closer, realizing that moments like these were more than just physical; they were a testament to the vulnerability and trust you both shared.

It was in the gentle way he held you and the unspoken promises exchanged through touch that you found true intimacy. This closeness, this openness, was the foundation of the deep bond you had built together, a haven where both your hearts found solace. You traced lazy patterns on his skin with your fingertips, your touch light and aimless, marveling at the contrast between the passionate man who had undone you completely and the tender lover who now held you as if you were the most precious thing in his world.

"Goodnight Levi"

He nuzzled the top of your head, inhaling your familiar scent that always calmed him. "Goodnight baby" he replied, his voice soft and full of longing. His hand moved in soothing circles along your back until your body finally surrendered to sleep, completely relaxed against him. He stayed awake for a little while longer, watching you, memorizing the way your features softened in the quiet vulnerability of sleep. When sleep finally claimed him, his dreams were filled with you—your laughter, your touch, your love—each moment a reminder of how blessed he was to have you.

As morning light crept through the curtains, he stirred, the soft golden glow spilling across the room. Blinking sleep from his eyes, he turned his head, his lips curling into a smile at the sight of you still curled against him, your face serene and bathed in the gentle morning light. Careful not to wake you, he brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, marveling at the sheer beauty of you, so peaceful and vulnerable in his arms. He leaned down to press a featherlight kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment, his heart swelling with love. In these quiet moments, he didn't need words or grand gestures. Holding you was enough—simply being with you, sharing the same air, the same love, the same life.

[eggcompany]

DiaBilly

Billy felt weird. Tired and thirst and hungry. There was just... something weird. Made his head feel funny. He tells Steve that he's fine. And Steve believes him. Until he's getting called at work that Billy's been brought to the hospital. A short story about a LONG road. Diabetic fic from a Diabetic <3

Billy didn’t know why he felt so fucking weird. Not weird like when he first had sex or weird like when Steve Harrington kissed him in the rain behind the high school gym or even weird like when his mom died or when Neil finally left and he got to stay with Susan. He felt like he was drowning in the desert, dizzy and heavy. He just felt… off. His head was slow, his eyes were fuzzy, he was so thirsty and he was always starving, and worst of all he felt like he was.. Fading away. He kept telling himself it was the flu or a head cold, but it wasn’t. It was just weird. 

Steve noticed, of course he noticed they’d been living together for over a year and dating for another. He noticed when Billy started to eat more, catching him in the kitchen eating pieces of bread or entire sleeves of crackers in one sitting. He noticed Billy having to go to the bathroom at every single place they stopped at, the gas station, the grocery store, pulling off the side of the road, at every single bathroom in the mall. He noticed how much soda and beer and water and gatorade and everything else Billy was drinking, triple of what he usually did. He noticed how many times Billy got up at night. He noticed the dark circles around his eyes and how his muscles were shrinking, his stomach sinking in. 

Billy just kept saying the same thing though. 

“‘M fine, Steve. Just tired.” And Steve believed him. For weeks. And weeks. 

Steve was at work, puttering away at the Family Video. He didn’t go to college, Billy was working at the body shop while he got his mechanics certificates so he took part time hours. It was a good combo.

He was wiping down shelves when he got the phone call. Billy was supposed to be working on Eddie’s van, a trade for some pot. It was a normal day, a normal thing, Eddie’s van always needed something done to it and Billy always ransacked Eddie’s record collection, it was an easy thing between them. Steve had left before Billy woke up, getting dressed in their living room so Billy could stay wrapped up in their blankets in the dark. He didn’t think anything of it. 

But one phone, just one, and Steve was lost. 

“Family Video, how can I-” Steve started when the work phone buzzed, hip leaned against the counter, what he was supposed to say memorized. Eddie’s voice cut him off, pithy and cawing as always when he was flustered. 

“Hey Steve, I just had to call 911 for Billy. No idea his name was William, um anyway, he is super sick they’re taking him to the hospital.” Eddie said in a rush. Steve could practically hear him fidgeting but was just frozen. 

“Is he okay?” Steve asked, the words coming from his throat without his brain coming back online yet. Eddie swallowed before answering. 

“No dude, he’s not okay. He was like just standing in my driveway, all red faced like he’d ran a mile, not breathing right, he didn’t know what was going on and then he was puking. His eyes were like… way messed up. Did you smell that like… I dunno, cereal smell on him? You need to go to the hospital ‘cause I don’t think he was even talking when they took him. Um… Hawkins Unity Hospital. That’s where they went.” Eddie said, voice serious as he explained. Steve felt ice cold as he stood there, looking at the front of the empty store. 

He put the phone down, not saying goodbye, not saying anything. He locked the store doors behind him, barely sane enough to grab his keys. He felt… out of his body. He didn’t even know how he drove, didn’t remember getting to his car or anything until he was standing in front of the welcome desk at the hospital, its bright white lights blinding. 

“William Hargrove?” Steve felt weird saying Billy’s name. He didn’t know what else to say to the woman at the desk. He just stared at her, watching her mouth move but he couldn’t hear her. He looked at her for a long time before saying ‘huh?’. 

“Are you Steve? You were on his forms, you can go see him. The nurse is with him right now, she can fill you in.” The lady repeated and Steve nodded, good. Good. He turned to look at the hallways but the lady was saying something else to him. 

“Take the elevator up to pediatrics, he’ll be in room 16B, that’s the ICU room in the endocrinology unit. You can get his intake forms and his paperwork at the nurse’s station up there.” The woman told him and Steve tried to remember it all. Pediatrics, Billy was 19 that’s too old isn’t? What did she say.. Endocrinology? What was that? Broke bones? Brain stuff? Steve felt the elevator stop and the walls were a light blue in the corridor. ICU room… twelve, thirteen, fourteen,

“Can I help you?” A nurse asked as she passed Steve, coming up beside him. He looked around at the doors. 

Suddenly he was right there in the hospital hallway, standing in his shoes, his family video vest still on, looking at a nurse, everything happening around him. It was like a ton of bricks were dumped on him at once. He just wanted Billy. 

“Ha-Hargrove” He said, feeling like he was suffocating, staring at the nurse’s green eyes as she gave him a sad smile. He followed until she reached the room closest to the nurse’s station. He didn’t wanna look, he didn’t wanna see the papers on the door or the board on the wall “Billy” written in blue. 

Steve couldn’t move as he stood just inside the doorway. 

Billy was right there, blonde hair still pulled back in a loose bun, eyes closed, dark lashes perfect against his cheek, blanket pulled up to his collar, bare chested, he looked… Why didn’t Steve see it before? He felt sick as he looked at the way Billy’s collar stuck up, the black rings around his eyes, his sunken in cheeks, the smell. Like nail polish remover. It was so heavy in the sterile air. Steve didn’t wanna look at the IVs, the tubes creeping under Billy’s blanket on either side of him. 

“He’s just resting right now. He didn’t get hurt when he fell down but he’s very sick. You can come sit down.” The nurse that had been sitting nearby in the room, a small desk to the side. Steve walked in, there was a beeping that sounded so loud. Too loud. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from his boyfriend, even as he sat down, he just… looked at him. 

“Are you… Steve Harrington?” The woman asked after a moment, looking at a sheet of paper in front of her. Steve nodded, mumbling an answer. 

“Yes ma’am.” Steve remembered when Billy had gone in to get his senior shots and had to fill out his paperwork. He’d asked to put Steve down as his emergency contact, that he had access to all his medical information. Steve had been tickled and joked that he was going to abuse the power when it came up. He didn’t think it would come up. 

“He’s in diabetic ketoacidosis. DKA, which is a life threatening condition, most people come in sooner. We don’t think he’ll have any lasting effects though.” The nurse explained and Steve turned to her. Dia what?

“It’s an autoimmune condition. The immune system kills off the pancreas, to say in the simplest terms. The pancreas makes insulin, which breaks down carbohydrates that we eat. Carbs give us energy, and it handles much more than that but that is the core idea. Without insulin the blood sugar rises, which causes this.” She said and waved a hand to Billy, breathing easy, resting. Steve didn’t understand. Billy was healthy, super healthy especially after he stopped smoking and drinking as much. 

“We administer insulin to bring down the blood sugar slowly, he gets back into range, his body will heal. However there isn’t a cure. Insulin injections are needed daily to keep the blood sugar levels within range. This is something he’ll deal with for the rest of his life.” The nurse said, her voice cold, solemn. Steve blinked and took it in. Tried to take it in. 

“Is he gonna be okay?” Steve said, forcing his jaw to open, the words an effort, every syllable a struggle. He looked at the nurse’s face, staring into her eyes, because he was lost. 

“It will be… It’s not easy. He’ll be back again and again, he has to monitor his every dose, everything he eats. It will not be easy for him. Are you his.. roommate?” The nurse explained before opening a drawer in her desk. Steve nodded as tears welled up in his eyes. How could something so horrible happen? How could- Why would this happen to Billy?

The nurse sat back up and held out two pamphlets. ‘Dealing with loved ones Newly Diagnosed with T1D’ and a second one ‘Living with T1D- Partner’s guide’. Steve stared down at them and looked at the nurse. What’s T1D? He thought. 

“In medical terms what William-” The nurse started but Steve shook his head. That- They shouldn’t call him that. 

“His name’s Billy.” Steve said and looked back at his lover. The nurse nodded and gave another sad smile. 

“Of course. What Billy has is called diabetes mellitus, but it’s commonly known as type one diabetes. T1D, as you’ll see almost everywhere, is the abbreviation. Now, why don’t you read through those while we wait for his next blood draw. Every hour we’re going to be checking his blood sugar with a finger prick, every three we do a blood draw. He can’t eat anything but you’re welcome to go to the family room down the hall, there’s vending machines and coffee. I’ll have you fill out his paperwork once he's awake. Let’s let him rest now, yeah?” The nurse said and stood up, gathering up her paperwork she’d been working on. Steve watched her, looking at the papers in his hands. 

“Come get me or ring the bell if anything happens. A nurse will be in at 2:15.” She said as she left and Steve nodded. He looked back at Billy, waiting till the door was closed to drag his chair right up to the side of the bed. 

He looked down at Billy’s hand, an IV on the top of it, he let the tears slip down his face as he looked at it. Billy hated the doctor. Threw a complete fit, even though he wasn’t scared of needles or blood draws, just hated the smell of it. And he’d hate not being able to eat. He loved eating. Especially lately. 

Steve wiped his face on his vest. He’d clean it if he ever went back to work. He’d have to go back to work. He should call and say he wasn’t going to be in for a while. How long would this last? When was Billy going to come home? When was he going to be… okay again? 

“I can hear you thinkin’ Harrington.” Billy mumbled as his eyes opened. His eyes hurt still. Everything hurt. He’d puked his guts out. Steve looked up at him, eyes all watery, and smiled. Billy felt like shit he couldn’t even appreciate how dorky Steve looked in his uniform. 

“Hey, hey, how do you feel? Are you okay? Comfortable?” Steve asked, not wanting to touch Billy just in case he was hurt, or didn’t want to be touched. He ended up just holding the edge of the bed. Billy took a breath and blinked up at the ceiling. He was cold, his belt was too tight, and he had to piss. He always had to piss these days. And his shoes were still on. 

“I’d make a sex joke but I feel too fucking bad. Can you take my shoes off for me? Belt too. Where’s my shirt?” Billy asked and Steve nodded, moving to the end of the bed, pulling the blanket to the side. Jesus, how’d he not notice the way Billy’s muscles had gone down so badly. He undid the laces of his blue and white sneakers and pushed them under the bed. Billy huffed and looked at his arms, IV in one hand, crook of his other arm. Gross. He watched as Steve flicked open his belt with hands so practiced he could feel a joke at the tip of his tongue, his brain was just… too slow to catch it. 

“There we go! Much better.” Steve said and smiled, trying to be positive but then he looked at Billy, thin and sick in the white sheeted bed, the smell of medicine thick, the smell of sickness even thicker, eyes unfocused and struggling. He couldn’t help as he cried, sobs wracking through him as he fell back into his chair beside Billy. 

“I’m so sorry, baby, I should’ve seen- I should’ve made you come in sooner. I’m sorry.” Steve said as he cried, forehead on the edge of the bed, crying so hard he was sucking in air. There was a hand on his head, fingers in his hair. 

“Quit crying, you big sissy.” Billy said but there was no force behind it. Steve cried until he was done, wiping his face with most of the box of tissues on the bedside. He just looked at Billy after, resolute that he’d make it up to him. To be there as they figured this whole thing out. 

Billy never got sick. He didn’t get colds, he didn’t get the flu, he’d never had chicken pox. So sitting in the hospital for the third day in a row, he was broken down. As much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t a grisly grown man. He was in the pediatrics department surrounded by nice lady nurses and he was a blubbery mess by day three. 

Steve stayed. He went home once to get some clean clothes for them both, even though Billy kept his shirt off for the IVs. He slept on the shitty chair in the room, he called his boss, he called their friends, he called Billy’s step mom and talked to Max. He read his pamphlets. He read the enormous pink and white book they had highlighted and marked for him. He cried in the family room away from Billy, lying and saying he was making coffee. He talked to an older woman who’s twelve year old daughter was going through the same thing, lamenting that ‘why didn’t we see it’. He ate shitty sandwiches in the cafeteria before going and sitting next to Billy. 

It was around the clock. Every three hours for three days straight. Every hour for three days straight. Billy was exhausted, Billy hurt, Billy had a screaming fit at 6am when a new nurse turned on all his lights when everyone else tried their best to let him get some rest, the lovely sympathetic nurses. He was falling apart at the seams. 

Day three was the worst one they had. Three days they had been slowly thrown into the roaring ocean. Injections with everything you eat, how to see what food has what carbs, what is a carb, what is insulin, how to store insulin, how to calculate how much to take, what happens when you take too much, what to do when you don’t take enough, where to inject, how to inject, what to do when you’re sick, what to do if you get a stomachache, remember to take your medicine, if you need help, ask. 

If you need help, ask. 

Day three was the worst day they had because Billy was on edge, and Steve didn’t know how to help when Billy looked at him, those eyes glittering with tears, no one else around and just whimpered a heartbreaking “Help me”. 

Day four was better. Day four Billy got his IVs taken away. Day four Billy got to eat. Day four Billy got to have a Steve assisted shower, put on clean clothes, and eat. He got to walk to the window and look out at the street below. Day four he got to have visitors since he was dressed. Day four it was every eight hours on blood draws and every other hour on his finger pokes. He was getting pretty good with the finger pricks. He could dial down the lancet, or “poker” as everyone called it, and went on the sides of his fingers which hurt less. 

Steve made an excuse saying Billy was shy around girls so he helped in the shower, making him sit down, his legs a little shaky, and scrubbed his hair, having ran home to bring his hair care and other hygiene products to the hospital. Billy felt a lot better, being clean helped, but his blood sugar was down. He just had to take his first injection. 

“You can have anything you want. For the first six months no concentrated sugars, soda, candy, juice, really sweet cereals, that kind of stuff. After that you can eat whatever you want. We’re gonna let you eat whatever you want now, and then dose you after but after that it’s dose then eat. Got it?” The main doctor, a redheaded woman, explained to Billy as he sat up in his bed, table pulled in front of him. He’d never had a girl doctor before, but he liked her. She was no nonsense but… tender. Steve liked her too. Trusted her. 

“I’d fuc-” Billy started with a toothy smile but she snapped her fingers at him, a finger pointed at his face. 

“Don’t swear.” The doctor said and Steve covered a laugh. 

“I’d kill for a beer and a pizza.” Billy said he almost sounded… hopeful. Looking at the doctor, waiting for her to answer. She huffed and rolled her eyes before cocking her head as she looked back at him. Steve was waiting, pizza was a lot and could Billy even-

“I do not want to see a beer enter or leave this room. Pizza’s fine. Eat as much as you want, I know you’re starving.” The doctor said and left, leaving Billy grinning and Steve with his mouth hanging open. She didn’t say no to a beer? Billy turned to him with a twinkle in his eye, something that Steve hadn’t seen in a long while. 

“She said not to see it. Put it in your pants, I don't care. I want a tall boy and a supreme from pizza hut. Now.” Billy said and Steve was standing up, making sure his wallet was in his pocket. Max would be around after school, he’d be able to pick her up since he knew Susan worked. He checked the door before leaning down to kiss Billy, not missing the sugar smell that was finally cleared away from his breath. 

The nurses came in with Steve, tailing him as he returned with a large Pizza and a paper bag. Billy looked like a rabid dog once he saw the pizza box. The nurses made sure to tell him to keep count of how many slices he ate and if there was anything else he ate or drank. They closed the door behind them. 

Billy ate like, well, a man starved. He ate an entire pizza, drinking his cold beer happily before crushing the can and putting it back in the bag, not before looking at the label, 15 carbs. He sat back in his bed, content and happy, as Steve dampened a tissue to clean his face off, mumbling about being a dog. 

“I love you Steve, you don’t have to watch them do this.” Billy said when he rang his call button. Steve wasn’t a big fan of shots. Steve stood by his bed, holding his hand for a minute. They were in this together. Plus Steve had been practicing on oranges in the family room with some of the student nurses. 

“Nah, I’ve got you. Always.” Steve answered and gave Billy’s hand a squeeze. 

The first one is the worst one, they’d been warned. But Billy was surprised that it wasn’t… Well, it wasn’t bad. He’d had more painful tattoos. The needle was tiny, though the medicine was cold and burned a little in his arm, it wasn’t bad. Steve was relieved because it was easy. Simple math, addition, division. Air in the vial, then draw it up in the syringe, try not to waste any, clean the spot, little poke, done. 

“You’ll have to give yourself one before you leave, but I think this is a good first step.” The nurse had said when Billy rubbed his arm and gave them a thumbs up. Max showed up, letting Billy give her shit for an hour, and left, leaving her radio in her chair without a word. 

Day five was better too, Steve gave Billy his first dose, waiting happily as they got to eat together finally, to-go boxes from the diner in front of them, Max’s radio humming in the corner. It was nice. 

And for the next three days it was pretty good. Especially when Billy finally gave himself his first dose, stuck in the measly fat on his stomach, his first. 

They got lecture after lecture, information overload, reassured that they’ll figure it out as they go because every case, and at once point an older woman came in sat on Billy’s bed with him and told him that she’d been diagnosed only a year after the medicine that kept them both alive was first administered. That had really hit Billy. He relied on a medicine to keep him alive and it had only been around for sixty years. Without it he’d die. And there are people who were there when it was invented, still around today. It made him quiet for a long time. 

Day eight they were told discharge papers would be waiting when they got up in the morning. And they were out of there by noon. A new chapter. 

Steve drove them home, glad to have Billy back where he belonged. He’d gone through the house and deep cleaned it the day before while some of Billy’s friends visited him. He cleaned everything with lemon scented soaps, getting the fruity smell out. He tossed their sodas (gave them to Dustin), candy (Eddie), and anything else that counted as ‘concentrated sugars’. He’d stocked up on snacks, jerky, peanuts, cheesesticks, anything Billy ate that didn’t have carbs. He made sure there was a space for Billy’s medicine in the fridge and a spot in their cabinets for his supplies, containers for his lancets and test strips. 

And they got on with life. Steve went back to work, picking up more shifts. Billy was slowly getting better. He did odd jobs fixing cars, just to help pay the bills. Sometimes it was harder, of course it was. Some nights they were up all night, crying and struggling, Billy cried a lot at night, away from all the eyes, weeping in Steve’s arms because why did it have to be him. Why did this happen to him? And Steve was always there to cry with him, whispering that he didn’t know and that he wished he could take it instead. But in the morning they ignored their puffy eyes and kept going. Going through it all. 

Billy’s sugar high and making him a raging maniac before coming down and making him feel like the worst person who ever lived. Sometimes his sugar went low and became the most vile and hateful person Steve had ever seen only for it to come back up and Billy couldn’t remember any of it. 

They had their fights. Billy not being careful enough, Steve overstepping, Billy doing all he could and still feeling like a failure, Steve unable to help at all. But the thing was about them both. 

They were both stubborn bastards in their own ways. So no matter what, they still huffed and grumbled, sitting together in the doctor’s waiting room. Because there was no one else who got it. It was just them. 

[prolix-yuy]

Beautiful Release

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an agreement. Simple, clean, easy. But not this time.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, IT'S PEGGING DIN TIME! Anal sex (m receiving), rough sex, sex toys, fingering (m receiving), handjob, frottage, blowjob, swallowing, cumshot, mentions of oral sex (f receiving), mild dubcon (Reader isn't aware of Din's mental state and stops the session to re-negotiate boundaries), painful sex, sex as self-flagellation, hurt/comfort.

Notes: Welcome to my addition to the Peg That Middle Aged Man Event 2024! This idea had been bumping around in my brain and this gave me the perfect excuse to write it. Thanks @wannab-urs for organizing this event, making the gorgeous banners, and giving me a chance to live my fantasies after S3 gave us the most delicious kneeling restrained Din image. I will never forget it, it's burned into my brain forever.

Set after S2 and before The Book of Boba Fett.

Cross-posted on AO3

He’s come to you before, but never like this.

Din always treats your encounters like serendipity, but from the first time you’ve known how far from the truth that is. He finds ways to drift into your path, tilting his helmet like he never expected you to be at this spaceport, which you prefer for its discretion, or in this cantina, which serves a hell of a barium fizz. The niceties always devolve into the silent request, which you never fail to fulfill.

But now, there’s a holomessage blinking on your control panel.

Send me your coordinates. Usual encoding.

It’s brisk, cold, mostly to protect you both, but even then something’s off. He’s never admitted to seeking you out. Something stirs deep in your stomach, consulting the encoding slug he gave you ages ago in case you ever needed him. Funny, the first time you’d use it would be because you think he needs you.

Your winding relationship with Din Djarin began at the business end of a blaster, but you can’t fault him for that. The ship you were flying then had all the hallmarks of a slaver vessel, but when he found your crew of rebel sympathizers he lowered his weapon. One escort and a few short-lived conversations later, and you’d forged a razor-thin alliance. 

Your paths wound their way across and through each other for over a year, and in that time Din warmed to you. He gave you his name, his allegiances, his contacts if needed. In return you forged documents and built jammers for his ramshackle ship. Mutually beneficial, and after a time pleasantly warm. His laugh always surprised you, a low chuckle when you turned a phrase just right on him. 

And the kid! The curious little gremlin that had been accompanying him more in recent times did help to smooth the rough spots. Grogu’s presence always brightened your days, brief moments of pure joy from his tireless antics. Din seemed to be ever the exasperated protector, but when he tucked Grogu into his arm his aura glowed. 

However, the times when Din “stumbled” upon you with seemingly no purpose had little to do with play dates or trades. Well, maybe only in the most euphemistic sense.

It was on a cargo run - cargo being more frightened people fleeing under the guise of your fake shipping business - that Din first encountered what would bring him back to you time and time again. There was a man among the stowaways who took an interest in you, the feeling mutual. He wound his way around like a lothcat in heat, and when you whispered how you might be able to pass the time he enthusiastically agreed. 

You weren’t much of an exhibitionist, but the ship wasn’t meant for privacy. So when Din happened upon you bending the man over a cargo crate, your strap slickly splitting him open as he moaned behind your clamped hand, you did feel some mild embarrassment. You weren’t sure how long he watched you thrust into the other man, but the little cough that alerted you to his presence made you turn and take him in.

He was clearly affected, hand gripping his belt as the other clenched by his side. Fascinating. The Mandalorian had surprises in store. 

The man garbled about sucking Din’s cock, letting the Mando cum on his face while you pounded his tight hole, but you stuck your fingers in his mouth and picked up your rhythm again. You’d met other Mandalorians in your travels, but Din’s particular religion was much stricter than most. He might take hefty offense if you assumed any of the armor could come off. Instead you let him watch without comment as your companion came all over the side of the cargo crate, soothing him through the aftershocks. As you cleaned him up you noticed your audience fled, and you determined never to speak of this. 

It would take two months for Din to come to you. 

“People like this?” he asked when you showed him your strap and assortment of attachments. You shrugged, picking out the one you secretly thought he’d enjoy.

“Some do, some don’t. It’s just one of many things I like,” you said, leaning against your bedroom wall as he filled the small space with restless energy. “I’m sure you like plenty of things too.”

There it was. The little roll of the shoulders and flex of a hand that told you Din wasn’t as inexperienced as some would believe. 

“Never tried something like this,” he mumbled, and you smiled under the knowledge that he was nervous. Din Djarin, feared throughout the galaxy, and dearer friend than you ever expected, had something he wanted and didn't know how to ask for.

“Would you like to try it?” you said, taking the last barrier away. He tilted the helmet down, fingers restless on his hip. 

“Yes.”

That first night you didn’t fuck him, though by the end he was so close to begging you almost came from the sound. Instead you opened him up with your fingers, got him used to the feeling of fullness and how to connect it to pleasure, while he laid on your bed and gripped the sheets so hard you thought he’d rip them. His pants bunched across his thighs, you got to admire the cords of muscle rippling as you made him shake and choke. His cock, velvety and weeping on his stomach, made your mouth water, but you only offered to suck it when he was just on the precipice. Your hot mouth wrapping around his head, two clever fingers stroking his prostate, tipped him over into bliss as he shouted his completion. Pride swelled in your chest at his belabored breath, chestplate heaving and thighs quivering on either side of your head. 

When you returned from cleaning up he was already dressed again, despite your protests to wait and let you ease him down from this new experience. He thanked you, awkwardly, and left quickly. Lying in the same bed that night, still smelling of him, you reasoned with yourself. He probably had a lot of feelings to sort out, both around his pleasure and the fact that you gave it to him. You hoped he trusted you enough to know you’d be discreet. And, as your fingers slid into your underwear, you hoped he’d seek you out again.

It was only a week before you were at the same spaceport again, his heavy boots clanking up your ramp. You tried to hide your own nerves, but when Din stood before you and let the visor drag up and down your body, a delicious grin crept onto your face.

“Ready to try more?”

Indeed he was.

He enters your ship without preamble, a brief flit of concern clouding your features at how quickly he disarmed your security measures. You weren’t expecting him for another hour. He must have jumped to get to you. 

It’s thrilling, to know the Mandalorian’s need is so great. 

But when he enters and closes the door behind him, the energy is…off. Not seductive, teasing, edged like the other times. No, he’s holding his body so tight and so still. There’s nothing aggressive in it, but you glimpse why his enemies fear him. Without a face, and with so much obscuring the flesh beneath, you’re not sure when he’ll strike. 

He catches you rummaging through your drawer, the strap in your hand. Assessing, you give him a gentler smile than usual, hands visible, softening your stance.

“Hello, Din.”

He nods, quickly, unbuckling his belt and yanking his cape free. Both fall to the floor carelessly. You press on.

“How about you tell me what you want?” you say, watching him carefully as he opens his pants plaquet. The mouthwatering strip of skin you covet peeks from beneath his top.

“Just need…need this,” he says, and while naturally a man of few words you’d taught him to be more vocal in this respect. 

“Okay, Din. How about you kneel on the bed and we start there?” Your voice lowers into a soothing register, reaching for his arm. 

“No,” he almost shouts, startling your hand back. He recovers. “No, I want…” You can practically hear him licking his lips on a sigh, slowing himself down. “Can you sit against the headboard?”

Brows raised, you nod. He’s never ridden you before, always preferring to let you take him from behind or on his back. Pulling the strap-on over your leggings, you settle against the headboard and wait for him. He doesn’t take long, kneeling on the bed briefly in contemplation before swinging over your lap. Shucking his pants half down his legs, you can’t resist a giggle.

“Might be better to take them off,” you tease, letting your hands lay featherlight on his hips. A huff crackles through the vocoder but he doesn’t move to disrobe further. 

“I’ll open you up a bit first,” you say, one hand reaching for lube while the other snakes its way to his hole. You encounter surprising slickness, but he’s nowhere as warmed up as you get him.

“S’okay, I took care of it,” he mumbles, both hands coming up to grip the headboard above your head. Slicking lube on the dildo, you move to finger him enough to ease your way in.

“Just a little more…”

“I’m fine.”

The curt retort snaps your face to the helmet, now more of a cowled chin and shining halo of beskar above your head. There’s something bubbling uncomfortably under the surface, something you feel the need to drag out by the scruff of the neck, but it’s Din. You never talk feelings with Din. Frankly, you barely talk at all during, or after, any of your nights together.

“Sorry,” he breathes, forcing relaxation. “I’m ready. Please.”

Your eyes linger for a moment longer, then you circle the base of your cock in waiting.

He descends slowly, gritted breaths and sharp blasts of air from his nose echoing above you. You watch the strain in his thighs as he sinks and sinks, his cock only half-hard against his stomach. Leaving a hand on one hip, you stroke soothing paths up and down his lower back, watching for discomfort. Instead he’s marble around you, coiled, body not releasing as usual. Normally when you fuck him he dissolves, rolling his hips back onto you and choking out praises of how good you feel.

None of that comes. He meets the base of your cock and immediately slides back up at an almost punishing pace. He can’t be that acclimated yet, and his pained hisses and grunts only make that more apparent. 

“Din, slow down,” you request, hands firmer on his hips to try and even his pace. If he heard you he says nothing, now slamming his hips down on your cock. “Din,” you beseech again, nails starting to dig in. His grunts grow to growls, something from the heat of battle, your headboard creaking from his crushing grip. 

Clarity overtakes you, the shudder of his stomach and forceful downstrokes only getting more intense. There wasn’t pleasure in this. Something is eating up Din inside and he’s trying to fuck it out of himself. And he’s using you to do that.

“Din Djarin, STOP.”

The echo of your voice, strong and steely, finally brings Din to a stop with your cock buried deep in his ass. His chest heaves in front of you, limbs quivering from the exertion, but he’s as still as he can be. Gripping his chestplate, you push him back enough to look him in the visor, your anger righteously reflected back.

“You don’t punish yourself with my cock,” you order, teeth clenched and seething. “Do you think so little of me, that I’d just let you rip yourself to shreds without a word?” 

Din freezes, but this time you know it’s shame. If you were in a clearer headspace you might have tried reassurance, or asked him to lay beside you and talk about what’s destroying him, but you’re just too upset. 

“Is that all you come to me for?” you spit out, knuckles aching from gripping his armor. He’s silent for long enough that you consider throwing him out before he speaks.

“Something happened. And I just want to…be empty. To not think about it every moment.” He leans forward and your visage warps as he presses his forehead to the crown of your head. The anger thrums but starts to ebb as he folds around you. “I didn’t know where else to go. You’ve always taken care of me. More than I deserve.”

The sadness in his voice is palpable, and even with your mouth still sour from his deception you find the compassion to wrap your arms around his middle. The chestplate presses into your cheek, a metronome for Din’s slowing breaths. 

“If you have any care in your heart for me, don’t ever do that again,” you grit out. Din’s breath catches. 

“I care for you,” he says, and a door in your heart you never realized was cracked widens for Din’s admission. 

“I care for you too, you karking asshole, which is why I want you to say something instead of trying to hate fuck your feelings out.”

Din’s chest begins to shake again, but you’re sure it’s laughter this time. You manage a giggle of your own, letting him lean back and look at you again. The motion shifts your cock in him, and his sharp sigh arches your brow.

“If you wanted to forget, you could have just told me,” you say, rolling your hips sensuously up into his clenching hole. Din’s head drops back, grip tightening on the headboard again as you grind into him.

“Please,” he begs, so soft and vulnerable you can’t help but give him what he needs. 

Slowly you press up into him, guiding his hips to rock on your cock. You love the feel of his ass in your hands, well muscled and perfect for grabbing, manhandling him just enough to show he can let go. He follows your direction reluctantly at first, but as you plant your feet and start thrusting with more range he loosens. You can feel it in his arms, holding on to the headboard for dear life, and the building rhythm of his hips meeting yours. For a man whose life is violence, you never want to bring that into your sessions. But a light swat on one asscheek pulls the most delicious moan from deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he groans, bearing down on you even more. Tilting your hips, you arch his back enough that you’re sure to hit his prostate on the next thrust. 

“Maker!”

There it is.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper. Waiting a moment, you zero in on that perfect spot inside him and hit it with every one of your thrusts. “Do you feel that? Feel how good I’m fucking you?”

“Yes, fuck,” Din curses, one hand flitting down to squeeze the base of his cock. He’s at full attention now, head bobbing against your stomach. You swell with pride that he’s having to stave off his orgasm so quickly, but you’ll be the one to make those decisions now. 

“All I want you to think about is how good you feel,” you purr, tugging his hand away and replacing it with your own. You long for his skin against yours, so you pull up your shirt to skim the head of his cock against your soft belly. He chokes, stuttering away but he’s trapped between your hand and thighs.

“Wait, Maker, I’ll cum if you…” he garbles, but his body keeps meeting your grinds. You shush him gently, stroking from base to tip and smearing precum over the head. 

“You will, but only when I let you. You know I’ll make it good for you, make nothing but this pleasure you’re feeling fill that head of yours.” His rapid nod almost knocks you in the head with the beskar, but he manages to tuck into your neck instead. The helmet is a shocking cool against your skin, but the act of burrowing into you must be rewarded. Bringing your arms around him, you press along the length of his body, trapping his cock between.

“I’m gonna pound into this tight ass until you cum all over us. You like that?” The wail Din lets out shoots heat to your cunt, wishing more than anything that you’d opted for a toy that gave you a little stimulation too. Instead you hammer fast and hard, barely pulling out. Your hips and thighs burn with exertion at his bulk on top of you, but he’s frantically bouncing back and rutting his cock into the wet mess your bodies make. 

“Don’t stop,” he gasps, and you’re not sure if it’s the vocoder but you think his voice sounds watery. “Please, cyar’ika, don’t stop.”

Cupping the back of his neck, damp with sweat, you whisper, “I’ve got you.”

With a handful of final pumps you’re coated in his cum, sliding around your belly as he seizes over and over. Pressing deep, you hold strong against his shuddering body as he finishes. Each weakening thrust draws him down on you, heavier and loose-limbed. 

The armor makes it hard to find the soft spots, so you take to kneading the back of his neck and palming his spine. Before his last aftershock, you urge him higher on his knees so you can slip your cock out - slowly, so as not to shock his jellying body. Easing him down, you hold his head in the crook of your neck and settle him on your lap. His hands slide down from the headboard to your shoulders. 

Then you hear it. A tiny sniff, then another. You can’t pretend you didn’t notice them so close to your ear. So you gather the broad man in your arms and hold him. His hands don’t know where to rest, finally winding loosely around your lower back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” you tell him again, and the sniffing starts to recede. His body, however, slumps against yours, and it takes all of your strength not to start giggling.

You fucked the Mandalorian right to sleep. Bravo to you.

When Din finally stirs, a deep rumble in his throat, it’s been almost an hour. Your toes are half numb and you’re dying to shift into any other position, but much like a lothcat falling asleep on your lap, you couldn’t bear to move Din. Especially when he started snoring, one of the most endearing and hilarious sounds you’d ever heard him make. 

In the time he slept you wondered what happened. What terrible thing hollowed him out and haunts him. Something keeps him up at night, if the depth of his sleep is any indication. Recent, possibly. Traumatic.

Your breath caught in your throat. If something happened to Grogu you know he would have told you. You ask after him all the time, teasing that you’ll be his Auntie (Din always says he has plenty of them across the galaxy). 

Had you seen the Razor Crest fly up? Where was that old bird anyway?

What happened in the time since Din last saw you?

The cycle of possibilities always ends the same. Maybe he cares for you in some way, but not enough for you to ask. No matter how much you want to.

A shift on your lap alerts you to Din waking, kneading his shoulders and neck lightly to alert him to your presence. He’s never slept with you before, but it wouldn’t surprise you to learn that he’s quick to draw at unexpected circumstances. Of which this one definitely is.

“What…” Din croaks, and if not for the helmet you would have offered him water. 

“It’s okay, you’re on my ship. You’re okay.” 

It takes Din another minute to realize what’s happened. Him, half naked on your lap with your strap pressing against his ass. You, covered in drying cum beneath him. In a flash he’s swinging his leg off your lap, attempting to stand but obviously they’ve gone as numb as yours because he stumbles and crashes out of sight. 

“Oh kriff, are you…?” you start to ask, but as quick as he’s out of sight he pops back up again, tugging up his pants and tucking himself away.

“Sorry, that was…I didn’t mean to…do that.” 

All of the heaviness and anger and lust fizzles away to laughter as you try to suppress the ridiculousness of the moment. After a moment of indigent head tilting Din’s shoulder also shake, chuckles fuzzing out of the vocoder. 

“Oh Maker, what an understatement that is,” you sigh, wiping your stomach with the edge of your bedsheets. Din visibly cringes, hands on his hips.

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes, but you wave it off.

“I’ve had much worse, believe me,” you shoot back. Clean enough, you sit on the edge of the bed and look up at the inscrutable man. 

“Want to talk about it?”

Din’s stance shifts, helmet tipping down for a moment before coming back to your face.

“...Not yet.”

You hum and nod. “Well, you know how to find me if you do.”

Din nods. “Thank you.”

As he picks up his effects you shimmy off the harness at the foot of the bed, mentally ticking through the steps to clean everything. Din watches you set it down, stilling until your eyes come back to him.

“It gives you pleasure as well?” he asks, which raises one of your eyebrows.

“I mean, about as much as rhythmically hitting your hips against someone can do.” His posture changes into something hard to decipher, so you continue. “I’ve got a few that do more for me, but it depends on the person I’m with. Comfort, boundaries. As you’re well aware.” You gesture to the armor, his chin tucking down to look at it.

“So you’ve never cum with me?” he asks, and a sudden feverish heat blooms under your skin. Din has a sex appeal you appreciate, but have never acted on beyond what he’s asked for. Now, something’s changed so dizzyingly fast you’re scrambling.

“Well, you’re pretty spent after our sessions. And you leave quickly. I don’t ask for more than you can give.”

Din takes a step towards you, putting his belt and cloak back down.

“What do you ask of other people you fuck?”

Your heart hammers in your chest. How can he turn the tables so quickly and spectacularly? Trying to gain the upper hand, you pull a confident face on and speak as breezily as possible.

“Most can’t get it up twice after I fuck them within an inch of their life, so fingers, tongues, toys, any and all of the above are excellent ways to repay the favor.”

He’s even closer now, and the facade is barely holding up. It’s like the vulnerability he showed you can’t possibly be returned.

“You’ve never asked me,” he says, and you can’t believe there’s a note of regret in his voice. The bed hits the back of your legs, and you steady your voice even though those words make your pussy throb.

“I didn’t think it was allowed.” Your voice drops low as Din steps into your space. 

“Difficult, but not forbidden.” Din’s hands come to your shoulders. “Sit down, please.”

Your knees fold so fast you bounce on the bed, looking up at him. He joins you on one knee, hands coming to rest on your thighs.

“I broke my Creed. I would do it again, for the exact same reason, but now that makes me an apostate.” His hands come to the helmet, thumbs tucking underneath the lip.

“Din, what happened?”

He pauses, and you swear you can feel his gaze through that smoky visor. 

“Close your eyes.”

Darkness surrounds you, then a hiss and a thunk. 

Then the voice of a man you care for, unfiltered and bare.

“I’m not ready for anyone to see my face. But I want this, with you. If you can forgive me.”

You could be dreaming still. It would make just as much sense.

“I forgive you, Din. But just this once,” you sneak in at the end just to hear how melodic his laugh sounds. Then his hand splays over your stomach and urges you to lie back.

“I hope you don’t mind teaching me this. I don’t have much experience,” he says, fire licking through your body as he tugs your leggings and underwear off.

“Don’t worry, you’re a quick learner,” you say breathily.

And when he finally kisses you, sweet with your musk on his tongue and your orgasm dripping from his fingers, you teach him how to do that as well.

END

"I need some distraction Oh a beautiful release Memories seep from my veins Let me be empty Oh and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight.

Sarah McLachlan, Angel (yeah I know I used the sad dog song)

[guiltyandashamed]

poems that fit the 7 brothers

NOT written by me, just chosen (Poems aren't focused on their sin, more their personalities)

Lucifer - "Invictus” by William Ernest Henley**

Out of the night that covers me

Black as the Pit from pole to pole

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

Mammon - "Love After Love” by Derek Walcott

The time will come

when, with elation,

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror,

and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life.

Leviathan- “We Wear the Mask” by Paul Laurence Dunbar

We wear the mask that grins and lies,

It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—

This debt we pay to human guile;

With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,

And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,

In counting all our tears and sighs?

Nay, let them only see us, while

We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries

To thee from tortured souls arise.

We sing, but oh the clay is vile

Beneath our feet, and long the mile;

But let the world dream otherwise,

We wear the mask!

Satan - "The Tyger” by William Blake

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night;

What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp,

Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

Asmodeus - “i like my body when it is with your” by E. E. Cummings

i like my body when it is with your

body. It is so quite new a thing.

Muscles better and nerves more.

i like your body. i like what it does,

i like its hows. i like to feel the spine

of your body and its bones, and the trembling-

firm-smooth ness and which i will

again and again and again

kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,

i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz

of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes

over parting flesh… And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you quite so new

Beelzebub – “The Peace of Wild Things” by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Belphegor – “Sleeping in the Forest” by Mary Oliver

I thought the earth remembered me,

she took me back so tenderly,

arranging her dark skirts, her pockets

full of lichens and seeds.

I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,

nothing between me and the white fire of the stars

but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths

among the branches of the perfect trees.

All night I heard the small kingdoms breathing

around me, the insects, and the birds

who do their work in the darkness. All night

I rose and fell, as if in water, grappling

with a luminous doom. By morning

I had vanished at least a dozen times

into something better.

[sonoftydeusthemusical]

My friend has never heard of Diomedes before; how would you describe him? Like his motivations, his way of thinking, his strengths and weaknesses, his relationships, major plot points?

(I would explain him myself but I'm still not that far in the Iliad.)

Hello, thank you soooo much for this ask and sorry for the late reply!

First of I want to say that we’re by no means experts on Diomedes. We’re still in the process of learning more about him and discovering and exploring him through this musical, so people with a background in ancient studies might have a more detailed/accurate analysis of him than we can provide at the moment. But we still try to answer you to the best of our abilities!

(You’re welcome to correct us in the comments/reblogs ^^” )

In the words of @holy_mother_of_whumpers:

Diomedes kicks ass more than anyone in the Iliad, is scolded more than anyone. Odysseus best friend (according to historians). Shitty childhood (incest, prophesies and and a lot of dead relatives, which is almost as ancient Greek backstories go), shitty post Troy (banished from his city, cursed by Aphrodite). Actually happy ending (founder of cities, immortalized by Athena).

He’s like Odysseus, but with an unbelievably tragic childhood and less disaster energy. He gets stuff done and slays doing it

But here’s our answer…sorry if this is turns out too long!

Starting out with your question about his motivations

Oath bound, Diomedes avenged his fathers death at the age of 14, sacking the city of Thebes (the epic surrounding it is called “Epigoni” but unfortunately it’s a story lost to history, also he was 4 when he took the oath, should that count rly? shouldn't there be an age of consent for oaths? anyway)

The story surrounding his fathers death is tragic and a bit disgusting (he ate brain and Athena who wanted to gift him immortality was too disgusted to do so)

Diomedes doesn’t remember his father, and he still gets compared a lot to him (just see Agamemnon low-key trash-talking him by stating how much of a better fighter his father was to motivate him for battle) so that kind of plays into his motivations

Additionally like so many other heroes, glory and honor are definitely also motivations of his. Often it is Athena who pushes or motivates him to many of his greatest deeds and other feats (like wounding Ares, throwing the spear at Dolon, beating everyone in the funeral games,…..yeah Athena HATES loosing)

What’s interesting that despite the fact that he was raised on war, later on – after Troy (and admittedly, even more warfare) – he’s said to have wanted to settle down more, founded his cities in peace (or as peaceful as life for kings was back then haha)

In the Iliad Diomedes is always the first to volunteer, and despite often getting treated rather badly (Nestor kicked him awake, my boy was even sleeping in his armour, Agamemnon calls him a coward) he tends to keep a cool head and doesn’t retaliate (…except that one time….or two?) BUT he also definitely doesn’t take BS, he calls out Agamemnon for being a bad leader when he suggests to leave (Diomedes insists they stay and fight until they won)

For his way of thinking…he’s rather pragmatic, a good strategist (mentored by athena), first to jump into the fray, trusts his own strength, knows when to back down/when to talk back, can get caught up in the heat of the moment in battles, doesn’t shy away from violence, lies & trickery…. (correct me on this if I'm wrong or missed something)

Strengths & Weaknesses

One thing that makes him stand out among the other heroes is that arguably, he’s one of the few greek heroes whose lives don’t end in a complete tragedy because of his hubris against the gods (…….wellll………..his wife betraying him after he injured aphrodite and being exiled for arogs is an instant where he still pays for his acts against the goddess, but its tame compared to many other heroes fates, who committed lesser crimes) and in the end he even gets deitified (or at least in some versions, like athena wanted to do with his father, but his father messed upppppp so…..)

He’s more level headed than many other heroes (cough Odysseus “i am in the infamous odysseus” King of Ithaca)

He’s one of the best fighters - or THE best fighter of the greeks next to Achilles, the trojans were more scared of him than of Achilles (….since Achilles didn’t fight) without him the Achaeans….would’ve probably lost the war

As for his weaknesses….one thing is something that’s not even within his own control: his young age (compared to the other kings), almost nobody realllyyyy respects him despite his badass deeds on the battlefield and good battle advice, his many ships he brought and his battle experience even before the war and two) the kind of lingering shame of his fathers final moments (nom nom brain, and failing to take Thebes), but also his fathers supposed greatness that he keeps getting compared to and has to live up to

Now…..his relationships…oh boy theres so many, I’ll try to sum up the most important ones I know in once sentence for each

His family:

His father: he doesn’t remember him, but people keep bringing him up and comparing him to him

We dont know much about his relationship with his mother

most…of his other (male) relatives die in his early youth (which is how he ends up as King of Argos) like his grandfathers, and his uncles…

The achaean kings:

Agamemnon: the boss who’s a bully, but Diomedes talks back to him sometimes at least (…unless he’s insulting him, he just accept that)

Ajax: Diomedes almost kills him during the funeral games….the acheans have to break up the fight

Achilles: Diomedes doesn’t like him, Dio is the only one who wants him punished for killing Diomedes cousin that everyone else hated

Odysseus: LOTS of tea to be found here (he seems to see Ody as a mentor figure and keeps picking him as companion for missions, they both have Athena as their patron goddess but while Odysseus leans a little bit more on the wisdom part, Diomedes leans more into the pure strength of battle, they work well together and have a bunch of missions together)

Comrades

Most noteable are Sthenelus (known him since early childhood) and Euryalus, who are with him in Troy, they were part of the Epigoni (its rly a long story)

His wife: is his cousin, he marries her to strengthen his rulership, in the end, its said that she betrayed him with a new lover and exiled him from his own kingdom (another long story)

Glaucus: they met on the battlefield and realized their grandfathers were bro’s so they didnt fight each other, and instead exchanged armours (but Diomedes got the better, golden armour, while Glaucus got the bronze armour..)

There is sooooo much more to say about him, all the stories of the Iliad, the events before AND after it, his relationship with Athena, etc. I barely scratched the surface here so maybe we have to make a whole series of posts about this one day so we can get more into detail because its so much! (Let us know if we should???)

I hope this answered some of your questions, though! And again thank you so much for your interest and apologies for the late reply!

[emisprocrastinatingbywriting]

To Break Free

Chapter Three Summary:

After Joel's barbecue, you wake up disoriented and alone, haunted by a night full of painful memories. However, after your handsome neighbour surprises you with breakfast, your day seems off to be off to a great start. Meanwhile Joel is trying his best so that he can be the man he knows you deserve. Nevertheless, with both of you running from the past, will you be able to stand together in the present?

Warnings: NoOutbreak!Joel Miller/Reader, Sarah and Ellie as Siblings, Neighbour!Joel, Angst, Fluff, Romance, Pining, Soft!Joel, Lowkey Traumatized!Joel & Reader, Mentions of Past Abuse/Shitty Relationships, Comfort, Non Penetrative Smutty Things, Fem!Reader/Joel.

A/N:

Hey y'all, welcome back. Sorry this took so long, I have depression lol and I've been working on my thesis. Word of the wise; don't live in places where its -40c in the winter if you get sad sometimes.

Aaanwaaays, this chapter starts off the morning after the barbecue and we get to see more alone time between the two. Warning that they go into their pasts a bit and there is definitly some talks of emotional abuse, abandonment, allusions to substance abuse (past), so be wary of that. Additionally, I added a touch of smut near the end. This week is really about laying the ground work for future chapters so get ready. I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always, thanks for reading <3

Chapter 3/10

Chapter 3: Begin Again

An endless stream of dreams had taken hold of you after Joel’s barbecue. Memories of the past blurred together with the present, fears and hopes mingling until you weren’t sure what was real and what was your own traitorous mind. No matter how violently you thrashed against the sheets, trying desperately to force yourself awake, you remained locked inside of yourself. It was torment but just as you started to wonder if you would be forever lost in a sea of unsettling, agonizing recollections, the sound of someone pounding at the front door had torn you from sleep. 

With a drawn out groan, you lifted your head, eyes burning as you tried to figure out who the hell would be beating the door down on a Sunday morning. With your head pounding along with the heavy raps on the wood, you buried your face in the pillow and sighed. If you ignored them for long enough, maybe the mystery guest would go away. However, just as you thought that you might be in the clear, another flurry of fists slamming against the door put any hopes of going back to sleep to rest. 

“Fuck’s sake,” you grumbled, ready to tear the face off of whoever was making you stumble out of bed before ten a.m. on one of your only days off. 

After the surprise phone call from your shitty ex the previous night, it wasn’t surprising that your disastrous marriage had been the thing to haunt you for hours on end. Every dream had served as yet another reminder of the emotional torture that had been inflicted upon you, along with how stupid you had been to stay with him for so long. Peter’s words had been like knives, slicing into your most vulnerable parts until you agreed to bend to his will, except this time was different. His cruelty would have been just as excruciating and embarrassing as it had been the first time, had it not been for the calming presence that had followed you through each recollection. 

The first memory had been from near the beginning of your marriage, when Peter had publicly berated you in the corner of some needlessly extravagant social event. It was one of the first times he had let the mask drop, spewing venom through his lips because you chose to wear a dress that he didn’t like. Nevertheless, just as you were about to dissolve into a puddle of tears, a flash of a familiar green flannel had caught your eye. When you saw him, a wave of peace had washed over you, injecting oxytocin straight into your brain until your mind was thick with it. He didn’t even need to be beside you, just knowing that he was somewhere in the stuffy room had been enough to block your ex husband out. 

Those expressive brown eyes, so warm yet so vigilant in the face of danger, had studied you from across the room, reminding you that you were safe. The shackles of the past loosened as you stared back at him, allowing you to take a step away from the belligerent man who continued to scald you with his words. It was like Peter no longer existed, all that mattered was reaching the handsome man that sat at the bar waiting for you. But just as you were about to reach him, the room started to shift and you were sucked into another memory. 

The next one was even worse. No matter how hard you tried to stop yourself from remembering, you were suddenly back in your old apartment on that wretched day of reckoning. With every step forward you tried to dig your heels into the floor, screaming internally as you were dragged towards the ultimate embarrassment. You remembered being excited that day, stupidly optimistic when you noticed that your husband was home before 11 p.m. for once. Nonetheless, any hopefulness had been dashed when you were confronted with the sight of him, naked and writhing on top of another woman in the bed you shared. 

Horrified, you stumbled backwards just like you had that day, tears running down your face as your shoulder blades knocked into the picture frame behind you. The picture had shattered against the floor, the glass scattering across the wood as you began to hyperventilate. The only difference was that this time, a big bear paw of a hand had wrapped itself around your own, silently reminding you that he was there, that you weren’t alone anymore. 

Although he never spoke in any of the memories that followed, Joel had remained a steady presence throughout all of them. Whether it be the brush of a hand, or just his knowing gaze, he had chased you through even the most torturous moments of your life. And you had chased him back, desperately looking for him no matter which disaster was unfolding. It was the most infuriating game of cat and mouse that you had ever played. All you wanted was to finally catch up to him, to wrap your arms around him and hear that southern drawl comforting you but alas, some asshole had to end the chase by slamming their fists into your door at the asscrack of dawn. 

As you reached the stairs, you looked down at your rumpled attire, letting out a small chuckle as you realized that you had forgotten to change. The clothes Joel had let you borrow still hugged your frame and with his heady scent clinging to the fabric, it was no wonder he had leaked into your dreams. Wearing his clothes was like a warm hug, a strong number two for the man himself, ensuring that you would stay asleep even if the nightmares came knocking. 

Even in your dreams Joel had been standing watch, acting as a silent guard dog to all the things you hoped to never remember. There was a comfort in that, in knowing that your brain would create a Joel Miller in lieu of his absence. Nevertheless, despite how comforted you were by thoughts of your handsome neighbour, someone was still banging down your door. And maybe if your home wasn’t already a million degrees, or if you had gotten a decent sleep, you could have let it slide but instead, another round of frustratingly loud bangs forced you to pick up the pace. 

“I’m coming! Jesus fucking Christ, would you chill out?!,” you shouted, growing more impatient by the second. 

With smoke pouring from your ears, you nearly tore the door off its hinges when you finally reached it. You took one step out onto the porch, ready to tear whoever dragged you out of bed a new one, only to be met with a wall of muscle that nearly knocked you off balance. As you looked up at the early morning visitor, all of the pent up rage dissolved, a high pitched squeak leaving you as the man who had chased you all throughout the night suddenly towered over you. 

Joel Miller was leaned up against your doorframe, one arm pressed against the wood by your head while the other was weighed down with a hefty looking tote. His hulking frame loomed over you, making you so flustered that you almost fell flat on your ass. A tool belt was wrapped around his waist, tugging on his pants and teasing you with just a hint of his boxers. The slightly beat up pair of carpenter pants he wore hugged his strong thighs perfectly, fitting him so well that you had to look away before you reached out and tried to yank them off. 

Your eyes dragged up the length of Joel’s body, noticing just how good the simple t-shirt looked clinging to his muscles. There was a slight softness to his belly that pressed against the fabric and you longed to bend down to nibble at it. You sighed, he looked absolutely delicious. There was only one thing that was bothering you. All of his curls had been tucked away, cruelly hidden underneath a beat up baseball cap that advertised his business. Would Joel be angry if you petulantly knocked it off of his head? You weren’t sure, but the rewards seemed to greatly outweigh the risk. Nevertheless, you restrained yourself, trying to satiate your ridiculous wants by staring into his warm and welcoming eyes. 

“Hi,” you said softly, shifting nervously as he smiled down at you. 

“Morning darling,” Joel answered, the term of endearment rolling off of his tongue like he had been saying it for years, “Or should I say, good afternoon.”

“What?,” you squeaked, whirling around to look at the time. 

There was a wooden clock that hung in your living room. It was one of the only relics of the elderly woman that had previously lived there and you refused to give up. It had been hand carved by someone, the glossy wood detailed with flowers and leaves, but the best part was the little red robin that came out to chirp every time it struck twelve. Most times, you were already well into your day when the bird made an appearance, fresh faced and ready to take on the world. However that day, with only ten minutes until noon, that would not be the case. You sighed, realizing that your usual Sunday routine was ruined. 

Usually, you started off with a nice breakfast before driving to the farmer’s market to get some fresh veggies and fruits. But with the sun already high in the sky and only an hour left until the stalls closed, all of the best picks would be sold. You sighed, cursing your past self for being too frazzled by the men in your life to set an alarm. With how late it was, you would have to brave the overwhelmingly loud and frequently disappointing aisles at the local grocery store. 

“Shit, I didn’t even realize,” you swore, running your hands through the bird’s nest on top of your head in frustration. 

“Really? Ya don’t say,” Joel shot back, the sarcasm dripping from his tone as he stepped forward and asked, “You gonna let me in? Or am I just gonna stand out here all day?” 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Come on in Joel,” you apologized, quickly ushering him in like there was something biting at his heels, “Dammit, I swear that I’m not usually in bed so late. I don’t know what happened, I’m usually up before ten. You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

“Not long, no,” he said calmly. 

Joel’s eyes swept over you as he stepped further into your home, zeroing in on every inch of your rumpled state until you began to tremble. The trembling was not fear but from something else, something that felt like a lightning bolt had slammed into your chest and burrowed itself deep inside of your ribcage. Which he noticed, of course he noticed, a proud grin spreading across his face as desire curved around your spine. He didn’t linger long, only granting himself one last once over that made your knees shake before he finally looked away. 

“Don’t be apologizin’ for sleeping in when it was me that kept ya up last night. I know that I probably should have waited a bit, but I wanted to see ya. Plus, with how fucking hot it is, I figured you’d be baking in here if I didn’t come soon,” he joked as he strolled away. 

Joel slipped into your living room, entering your space like it was his own. Meanwhile, you were channeling all of your energy into staying calm. He wanted to see you, after spending the whole of yesterday afternoon and well into the night in your presence, he wanted even more time with you. It felt too good to be true. 

Trying to focus on breathing, you quietly followed Joel and perched on the arm on the couch, eyeing him as he circled the AC like it was his prey. He was undaunted by the task as he crouched down to get a better look at the hunk of metal, even making a joke about the slight damage you had done to it when you had angrily ripped it out of the window. You kept waiting for him to snap at you, or exact a price for his services, but neither of those things came to pass. Instead he got down to work, ignoring your anxious hovering as he cracked the air conditioner open and examined the inside of it. 

Never in your life had you been in such a nerve racking position. Most of your relationships with partners, friends, or even family, had been largely transactional. People always wanted pieces of you, whether it be body, mind, or the victory of gaining your subservience. Nobody ever wanted you as a whole, nor did they ever care enough to give you anything in return other than heartache. After years of being torn to pieces your understanding of love had been twisted, your sense of self had been warped, and the ability to have someone else take care of you had all but vanished. 

Nevertheless, with Joel in your life, it was becoming increasingly clear that you were going to have to learn how to get over it. Logically, you knew that there was nothing wrong with accepting help, especially when it was him that demanded that he be the one to fix it, but the demons in your head would not let it go. How could you let this man, a man who was likely already bogged down with the stress of being a single father and owning his own business, fix your things without giving him something in return? With only a few hundred dollars in your bank account, which you knew that he would never accept, there was only one thing that you could possibly offer him. 

“Have you had breakfast yet? Or um, I could make you lunch?,” you piped up, already hurrying over to the kitchen so that you could comb through the fridge, “I don’t have much right now, but I’m sure there’s something in here I could make for you!”

Of all the times for Joel to come over, he just had to choose grocery day. Much to your dismay, the inside of your fridge was absolutely baren. There was nothing but a half tub of butter, a questionable looking bag of baby carrots, a few stray beers, and all of the condiments that a girl could ask for. Even the pantry was stark, though that was mostly due to the two teens that regularly raided it for snacks. They had emptied it during the midweek gossip session, chowing down on all of your chips and sweets as they updated you on all of the highschool drama that you had become hopelessly invested in. 

When faced with an overwhelmingly bleak selection, you usually would have said fuck it and pulled out the take out menu, ordering a feast that you could inhale while you cozied up on the couch. But with Joel in your space, selflessly helping you out of the kindness of his own heart, that felt wrong. He had told you that he was coming over the previous night and yet, you had stupidly forgotten. For some reason not being prepared for his visit felt like some sort of crime, like you had needlessly disappointed him and soon your heart began to pound as you waited for a punishment that would never come. 

“Fuck, okay so I can’t do breakfast unless you want um…,” you paused, looking over your scant options, “Some possibly rotten carrots washed down with a beer or uh… I have a can of soup but shit, I don’t know if that’s a good idea with how hot it is. Hold on, let me think.”

Joel laughed, a full belly laugh that lit up his face as he pivoted towards you from where he was crouched. His eyes swept over your figure and he shook his head, still chuckling to himself as he set his screwdriver down and stood up from the floor. 

“Darling, I don’t need -” 

“Or coffee? There might be some instant coffee somewhere. I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t have a machine because I always fuck it up but instant isn’t that bad. I mean hey, it’s still caffeine right?,” you rushed out. 

The heat of the day was working against you, mixing with your worsening nerves to leave a heavy layer of sweat over your skin. It didn’t help that Joel’s eyes were on you, the amused look on his face making you even more anxious as he grabbed the tote bag near his feet and drifted over to the kitchen. Fearing a scolding, you hurried over to the cabinets and got up on your tiptoes, reaching for one of the mugs until a hand caught your wrist mid air. 

“Oh,” you gasped, his touch sending sparks up your arm that radiated throughout your entire body. 

Joel lowered your hand back down to your side without saying a word, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he reached over your head to close the cupboard. He didn’t say anything but he didn’t need to. Just like in your dreams, his eyes and his presence said it all. I’m here, he said wordlessly, just breathe. And so you did, slowly matching your breaths with his until you came back to yourself. He nodded once you finally calmed, the tension in his own shoulders releasing like your panic had been hurting him just as badly. 

“Good girl,” Joel said under his breath, so quietly that you almost missed it. 

Good girl, good girl, good girl, ran through your mind over and over again. His words pinged off all of the pleasure points in your brain, scorching every inch of your being. Your imagination ran wild, thoughts of Joel hissing those two words through his teeth as he pounded you into the mattress making you squirm before him. Was he thinking about it too? Was that why he looked like he was in pain, a small crease formed between his brows like it was physically hurting him not to reach out and touch? Did he mean to make you shake and shiver before him? You didn’t know, all you knew for sure was that those two simple words were enough to fill you with hope, as well as a burning desire. 

“Let’s try that again darling,” Joel said, giving you a kind smile as he thrusted his bag out towards you. 

Blinking between him and the tote that advertised the local highschool, you cocked an eyebrow, not moving to grab it until he gave you an explanation. A wary look was all you offered him, unsure of what sort of trick was going to be played on you if you took it. 

“It’s just a coffee and some leftovers from breakfast. Nothing special, but I figured you might be hungry. You don’t have to take it though if you don’t want t-”

Before Joel had even finished that statement, you snatched the bag away from him and began to dig through it, smiling wide as you unearthed a treasure trove that released a swarm of butterflies inside of your gut. There was a container loaded up with blueberry pancakes and syrup, the glass still warm from the stove, along with another container filled with golden hash browns. But it was the thermos filled with your go-to caffeine and sugar fix that excited you the most. 

“You got my coffee order?! Joel! That’s - oh my god - that’s halfway across town! Why the hell would you do that?!,” you admonished, tearing the cover off so you could slurp down half of it in one go despite your protests. 

He shook his head, “S’not a big deal, I was already in the area.”

Even to you, that sounded like a load of bullshit, but the fact that he refused to meet your eye confirmed it. 

“Oh really? Doing what?,” you cackled as you popped one of the containers open so that you could dig in. 

Joel hesitated for a second, squinting hard as he tried to come up with an excuse to discredit himself. The more time you spent with him, the more you realized that he had a habit of doing that. The barbecue had been the first time you noticed it. Anytime someone praised him for the delicious food, or for his hospitality, he waved them off and changed the subject as quickly as he could. It was as if he truly believed that his thoughtfulness was nothing, that it was basic human nature rather than a gift that most men were in grave need of. 

“Uh, I was… Getting some tools at the hardware store?,” he tried. 

“You’re telling me that Joel Miller, the owner of Miller Contracting, did not already own a screwdriver? Seriously?,” you teased, voice muffled around a mouthful of delicious food. 

He blushed, the redness on the high points of his cheekbones spreading down to his neck and up to the tips of his ears. 

“Well, I -,” he faltered, groaning as he realized how terrible the lie was, “Fuck’s sake, would you just shut up and enjoy the damn breakfast?” 

As Joel turned on his heel, retreating back towards the AC to escape your taunting, you couldn’t help but laugh at him. He was sweet. Too sweet for his own good, you thought as you watched him return to the task at hand. If he was this way with all of his neighbours, you couldn’t imagine how the man got anything done but based on the way he glanced over every so often as you devoured the food, you had a feeling this was not a regular occurrence. 

Joel worked methodically, taking the entire machine apart so that he could pinpoint the issue and fix it before he put it back together again. You studied him with rapt attention, eyes following the way his strong muscles flexed as he untightened and tightened the bolts. Although it had taken you nearly two hours of tinkering to deem the machine unfixable, it took only ten minutes for him to find and address the issue. When Joel was done, you watched as a bead of sweat traveled down from his hairline, dampening the collar of his shirt as he easily lifted the AC from the ground and carried it back to the window like it was nothing. It had taken you three tries to tear that thing out and bring it to the ground without dropping it, but he was completely unaffected by the weight, a fact that you tried hard not to dwell on in his presence. That was a thought for later, for when you were alone and desperate in the dead of night. 

“Okay, let’s see if she works,” Joel sighed as he flipped the switch. 

A heavy groan came from the ancient hunk of metal as it sputtered to life, like it was angry with Joel for forcing it back into the world of the living, but cool air soon began to flow freely into your home. You cheered, hurrying over so that you could bask in the icy breeze as it poured into the space. All of the sweat that dampened your face began to dry as the air washed over you and you couldn’t help the slightly embarrassing noise that slipped past your lips. 

“God, that’s feels so fucking good. Thank you, I don’t know how I would have survived these next few days without you,” you laughed and shook your head, “To be honest, I was debating on sleeping at the library until the repairman could come in. You really saved my ass Joel.”

“The library?,” Joel squawked, as if it was the craziest thing in the entire universe. 

You shrugged. It wasn’t that insane, especially when you didn’t have the funds to pay for something more comfortable at one of the local hotels. Hell, you barely had the money for the repair guy but after only a few hours without air conditioning, it had become clear that raw dogging the heat of a Texan summer was simply out of the question. 

“I mean, yeah? It’s not like I would be sleeping on the floor, my office has a couch. Beggars can’t be choosers and plus, the basement it’s in is fucking freezing. That sounds way better than sleeping in Satan’s asscrack all week,” you joked. 

Joel pursed his lips, staring down at you with an intensity that threw you off guard. You cocked your head at him, watching as he weighed his words carefully, looking incredibly disgruntled as he tried to find a way to argue with your logic. 

“If this happens again, you’re gonna come to me. Hell, if anything breaks, you’re gonna come to me. Not some shitty repair guy, not Joe-blow on the street, you come to me,” Joel said, his tone leaving no room for discussion. 

Guilt hit you square in the chest, the thought of using him for his skill set almost too much to bear. 

“But Joel, I -” 

He held up his hand, “You come to me, especially if it’s gonna mess with your sleep. And if I can’t fix it that day, you’re gonna stay at my house. Don’t even try to argue with me, I don’t want to hear it. You’ll sleep in my bed and I’ll take the couch for the night. That’s all there is to it.” 

Joel cocked his eyebrow at you, wordlessly challenging you to fight him on it but you were speechless. Every time you put up a pointless boundary with him, he had absolutely no issue tearing it down. The thought of running to him every single time something broke was ridiculous, especially since nearly everything you owned had been thrifted after your escape from Miami and your home was well over twenty years old. If he truly wanted to be your go to handyman, he was going to have his work cut out for him. Your gut reaction was to refuse him, to remind him that you were perfectly capable of fixing things and did not want to be a burden to his already overwhelmed schedule, but the words died on your lips.  

As easy as it should be to ignore Joel’s command, something in his eyes broke through that last little bit of petty resistance you had been holding onto. Although Joel Miller was gentle, soft for you in all the right ways, that didn’t mean he was easy to bend. There was a part of him that was authoritative and exact, an undercurrent of dominance that quickened your pulse. That part of him likely scared others but not you. It drew you to him like a moth to a flame, turning your brain into mush whenever he utilized it. 

“I-I um,” you stammered, your voice an octave too high before you cleared your throat, “Thank you Joel, I guess I have someone to call now if shit hits the fan.” 

“Always sweetheart. Now,” he affirmed, easily brushing past the thanks like a man on a mission, “Are you finished with breakfast yet?”

“Yes, thank you. It was really good!,” you chirped, swiveling back towards the couch so you could gulp down the rest of your drink. 

“Good, that’s real good honey,” he answered, a restlessness suddenly seeping into his tone.  

The energy shifted, an awkwardness growing between the two of you. With the air conditioner fixed, there was no reason for Joel to stay but the last thing you wanted was to see him go so soon. It felt like he had just arrived. You sighed, if only you had woken up a bit earlier. Maybe then you could have thrown on something more flattering than a pair of men’s sweatpants and a baggy sweater. It would have been nice to be able to leave him with a more enticing memory. 

“So, I was wondering if you wanted to maybe -”

“I don’t know if you’re busy today, but I was -”

The two of you stopped, eyes widening for a moment before you both erupted into a round of raucous laughter. The tension that was sizzling in the air popped, dissolving as the ridiculousness of the situation became painfully clear. Joel wanted to stay and you didn’t want him to go, meaning that there was no reason for either of you to be so worked up. He wasn’t going anywhere and you should have known that from the moment you saw the seven dollar coffee he had driven across town for, or the warm breakfast that just so happened to still be fresh hours after when he would have made it. And you? Well, there was nobody else you’d rather spend your last day off with. 

“My bad darling, you go ahead,” Joel chuckled, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck when the laughter finally petered off. 

“Um, I was gonna say that I have some things to do today but I was wondering if you’d want to tag along?,” you asked hopefully, fiddling with your fingers as you quickly added, “It’ll probably be pretty boring but I don’t know, I can be fun sometimes. No pressure though.”

“Yes,” Joel answered immediately, not even taking a second to think about it. 

“Yes? Just like that?,” you balked, his eagerness making your head spin, “You don’t even know what my plans are. What if you just agreed to rob a bank with me? Or murder someone? I could be a criminal Joel.”

He rolled his eyes, “Well, then your plans wouldn’t be very boring would they?” 

“Got me there Miller,” you giggled, unable to keep the goofy grin off of your face. 

Joel smiled and looked down at his feet, boyishly scuffing the floors with his dusty boots but you didn’t mind. He could ruin every inch of your freshly scrubbed flooring for all you cared, just so long as you got to watch as he tried and failed not to blush under your scrutiny, getting more worked up the longer you shamelessly stared. Nonetheless, as much as you wanted to watch Joel squirm forever, there was work to be done before you went back to the library on Monday. 

“Alright well, I need to go get ready so ah… Just make yourself at home I guess? I’m sure you already know where everything is from last time you were here, but feel free to snoop around if you can’t find something,” you teased, earning a small chuckle from him. 

“Take your time baby, I don’t mind waiting,” he replied easily, dropping down onto the sofa with a small grunt. 

There was that word again. Baby. It echoed in your mind, reverberating off the inside of your skull until you were close to screaming. Joel had no right to call you that. He had no right to tease out that part of you that longed for connection, that begged to be released again for the first time in years, but he had. He had and you wanted to hear him say it every single day, to lovingly whisper it in your ear on the sleepy mornings that you slept past the alarm, to murmur it against your lips in those stolen moments when he thought nobody was looking, to growl it angrily as he mercilessly pummeled your aching cunt into submission. You wanted it all. 

“D’ya wanna take a picture or something?,” Joel drawled, his knowing smirk making you feel warm all over as he caught you red handed, “It’d probably last longer honey.” 

“Sorry, I uh… I’ll go get dressed. You just…”

He cocked his head, “I just what?” 

Should you say it? Definitely not, but you couldn’t stop the words from coming even if you tried. 

“Nothing, it’s -,” you sighed, utterly frustrated at how useless your brain became around him, “It’s just your work clothes. They’re cute - You look very cute in them Joel, that’s all.”

Before Joel had the chance to respond, you spun on your heel and hastened towards the staircase. If you stayed in his presence any longer, you weren’t sure you’d be able to hold back. He was simply too breathtaking sunk into your couch, like he was meant to be there all along. You couldn’t help but picture him there on quiet mornings, lazily thumbing through the newspaper or one of the worn out westerns that you had spotted in his living room. You imagined creeping downstairs and watching him pause to take a sip of his coffee. Would Joel smile when he finally looked up? Or would he crack a joke, his eyes alight with playfulness as you skipped over and snuggled into his side? 

“Fucking hell,” you mumbled, shaking your head as you dragged yourself back upstairs. 

You needed to focus, to push away the immense longing that was clouding your judgment before you did something utterly embarrassing like slide into his lap and try to kiss him. There would be time for that someday, if you were lucky, but at that moment what you needed to do was pick something to wear that was more appealing than Joel’s rumpled clothes. With that harrowing task ahead, as well as a disaster on top of your head that only seemed to get angrier the more you poked at it, you put Joel Miller in a box, trying like hell not to think about the fact that he was waiting for you downstairs as you readied yourself for the day. 

- Joel -

Joel wasn’t sure what he had done in a previous life to deserve his morning. First you had called him cute, despite the fact that his beaten up work clothes were likely trekking dirt all throughout your home and staining the couch. He was thankful that you hadn’t turned back after you said it, as you undoubtedly would have caught his slack jawed stare. But when you had come downstairs all dressed up, batting your pretty eyelashes at him as you asked, are you ready to go handsome? Well, he had nearly choked to death on his own spit. 

How was Joel supposed to focus when you were dressed like that? He was too busy staring at the way your flowy little shorts brushed against the soft, supple skin of your thighs or how your breasts strained against the confines of your tank top. If so much as a breeze blew past, he knew that he’d catch a glimpse of the curve of your ass. And if you tried to grab something from the top shelf at the store? Joel would get a lot more than that, as your poor excuse for a shirt was testing his patience with each breath you took. 

From the moment your feet had touched down on the first floor, you had rendered Joel’s vocal chords useless and with no possibility of communicating, he had no choice but to nod and gesture towards the door in hopes that you would understand. He sighed when you smiled at him and skipped towards the door without question, only to get an even more devastating look at your backside as you led the way. If Joel was a better man, a stronger man, he would have been a gentleman and looked away, but he wasn’t. Instead, he found himself subtly readjusting himself so that he didn’t have to waddle to the outside like an idiot, hoping like hell you didn’t notice. 

“Alright so, I really need to get groceries so that I don’t starve this week aaaand I also have a book order to pick up. Which one do you wanna do first?,” you asked excitedly, practically bouncing down the steps of the porch. 

He snorted, “Forgive me if I’m wrong sweetheart, but don’t you work at an honest to god library? What are you doing buying books? Can’t you get them for free?”

“Well yeah, but we don’t always carry the types of books I want to read. Sometimes I like to spice it up a bit ya know? Get something off the menu, if you know what I mean,” you said suggestively, nudging him in the ribs as you wiggled your eyebrows at him. 

Joel had no idea what you meant, but he smiled and nodded nonetheless. He wasn’t much of a reader, with most of his experience being the legends of cowboys and news columns, but he admired the allegiance to your craft. How could a book be anything other than words on a paper? He wasn’t sure, but the teasing lilt to your tone made his heart start to thump hard against the walls of his chest anyways. The innuendo you were trying to make was clear but he couldn’t quite wrap his brain around it. It sounded like you were alluding to something sexier but no, there was no way. Smutty books were for bored housewives, not people like you… Right? 

Joel’s palms began to sweat as he shoved that racy thought from his mind, heart pounding as he vehemently tried to remind himself that he wasn’t a complete idiot. That at several points in his life he actually had successfully charmed a member of the opposite sex before. Hell, he even had at least one kid that proved it. Nevertheless as Joel stumbled helplessly along, pulled by the invisible string tied around his heart, he was a hopeless mess. You were too beautiful, too smart, too funny, and all the other adjectives he couldn’t quite think of. However, when you suddenly turned away from him and pulled out your keys, he snapped out of it in an instant. 

“What are you doing?,” he asked dumbly. 

“Driving us to the grocery store? What are YOU doing?,” you shot back, lifting an eyebrow at the sight of him standing at your driver’s side with his own keys in hand. 

Joel examined your vehicle, if you could even call it that, with a frown carving deep lines into his face. He wasn’t sure how the hell the thing had passed inspection, much less how you managed to get it to start up every morning without having it explode. And if that wasn’t enough to make him wary, he knew beyond a shadow of doubt that there was no way it had air conditioning. With how dangerous the thing looked and how hot the day was, he wasn’t about to let either of you cook for the sake of chivalry. 

“Sweetheart, with all due respect, there ain’t no way I’m getting into that death trap with you,” Joel said, entirely serious despite your surprised laugh. 

“What? Don’t be so dramatic Joel, she’s perfectly fine! A few coats of paint and an oil change, and she’d be good as new,” you assured him as you shoved the key into the door. 

“An oil change?!,” he exclaimed, “How long has the light been on?” 

You shrugged, “Since I got it about a month ago.” 

A squawk fell from your lips as Joel tore the keys from your grasp, easily pocketing them before hurrying off towards his own vehicle. 

“What the f - hey! Joel idon’tknowyourmiddlename Miller! Get your ass back here and give me my damn keys!,” you called out. 

“Nope!,” Joel easily threw over his shoulder as he marched over to his truck, “I’ve got kids darling, can’t be getting blown to bits before they’re off to college!” 

Joel walked straight to the passenger’s side, getting there just in time to unlock and open it for the disgruntled woman chasing him. For someone who spent most of their days helping members of the community, you had quite the colorful vocabulary when you were annoyed. He chewed the inside of his cheek as you rounded the corner, trying to keep his amusement at bay as you gave him the most adorable little frown he had ever seen in his life. 

“Keys,” you ordered, holding a hand out to him impatiently. 

“Get in the truck first,” Joel shot back, unwilling to back down so easily. 

If Joel had it his way you’d never drive that death trap again, but it was much too early for him to be volunteering to be your dedicated taxi driver. He wasn’t a complete idiot, he knew that he needed to wait to spring something so bold on a woman that had clearly been burned before. But as you sighed and cocked your hip, not even trying to hide your annoyance from him, he was finding it hard to remember why he needed to tread so carefully. 

“Right, let me guess, oh I’m Joel Miller. I’m a tough contractor and we’re all too manly to sit in a passenger seat from time to time, especially if it’s a lady driving us. Give me a fucking break,” you jabbed, laying on the poorest attempt at an accent that he had ever heard. 

If it were anyone else, Joel probably would have pointed out that as Texan as he was, he wasn’t a caricature. But with you, he just found it endearing and barked a laugh. 

“First of all, you need to work on the accent darling. I ain’t Colonel Sanders,” Joel pointed out. 

You glared at him then, steadily losing patience for his antics the longer your keys remained in his pocket. Joel paled, a strike of fear hitting him as he realized you were being dead serious. Sensing the change in your demeanor, he cleared his throat and switched gears, trying to reverse the damage before he ruined the day with his poor attempt at being funny. 

“Aw shit honey, you’ve got me all wrong.”

“Do I? Because it seems to me that you still have my keys,” you sassed. 

“Here, take ‘em.” 

The set of keys Joel shoved in your face made you falter. They were his, not yours, the faded pink and green braided keychain that Sarah had made him years ago making it painstakingly obvious. You didn’t know it, but it was a big deal for him to let you drive his truck, as not even Tommy had been granted that privilege. Joel wasn’t sure why but the thought of seeing you drive his truck made him tingle all over. He imagined you in his usual seat, gripping the worn steering wheel with your far more delicate fingers as you hummed along to the radio and chattered about everything under the sun. His heart stuttered as he thought of it, forcing him to take a deep breath so that he didn’t get too dizzy. 

“What? Why?,” you gasped, eyeing the set of keys like they might bite you. 

“You heard me baby, take ‘em if you want to drive so damn bad. I just don’t feel like dying a fiery death today because you didn’t think to get an oil change. S’nothing personal,” he said with a shrug. 

“Nothing personal, he says. Sure sounds pretty fucking personal, ” you bickered, snatching the keys from his hand so you could cross over to the driver’s side, “You’re lucky that you’re cute Miller, now get in the damn truck.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Joel slid into the seat beside you, happily allowing you to adjust the seat and fiddle with the mirrors a bit before you set off. It was weird being a passenger in his own vehicle but he had to admit, being free to stare at you unabashedly had its perks, like getting to pick up things he hadn’t before. As you drove, going over your game plan for the grocery store like it was some sort of high stakes mission, he noticed that you often took a hand off the wheel to gesture, providing a flourish to all of the points you wanted to emphasize. 

Joel watched as you placed both of your hands back on the wheel when you were done speaking, drumming your fingers against cracked leather to the beat of the song that was playing. It was some upbeat hit, nothing that he would usually be caught dead playing in his truck but it didn’t matter. With you in the driver’s seat, Joel couldn’t hear anything. All he could focus on was you, simply existing in a space that he found himself in every single day. 

“So, what do you think?,” you prompted, looking at him expectantly. 

“What do I think about what?,” Joel sighed dreamily, wishing he could scooch a little closer and press himself against you like some sort of love sick puppy. 

You rolled to a stop at a set of lights, turning in your seat to look him over with a furrowed brow. 

“About where we go first; bookstore or groceries.” 

“Oh, uh… It’s up to you darling, I’m just along for the ride,” he shrugged, relaxing back against his seat as the light turned green. 

You sighed, “I guess groceries it is then. We’ll save the fun thing for last, that way it’s like a  reward.” 

Much to Joel’s embarrassment, the rest of the ride followed a similar trajectory. You would speak to him and he would try to follow along, but his nerves and giddiness would get in the way every single time. Everytime he looked at you, it was like his ears became filled with cotton, rendering him absolutely useless. When you finally turned into the parking lot, he sighed in relief, silently berating himself for being such a bumbling fool in your presence. 

Joel wanted to be smooth, to sweet talk you until you were trembling for him as he had the previous day, but he couldn’t. Being alone with you was all encompassing, wiping his brain clean of any thoughts despite his attempts to remain somewhat cognitive. At that moment, with how flustered he was, it was beginning to feel like every bit of progress he had accomplished thus far had been nothing but dumb luck. 

Realistically, Joel had never been known for being smooth but he was usually, at the very least, able to talk to women. He thumped his head against the headrest behind him, realizing just how doomed he was as he watched you fix your hair in the mirror. If a suave man was what you wanted, then he was the last person you should be spending your time with. Nonetheless, Joel still popped out of his seat as you cut the engine, desperate to redeem himself as he raced over to open the door for you. He knew that it was an old fashioned move, likely regarded as corny to some, but he liked the way you looked at him when he did it. Plus, being there to help you out meant that he got to hold your hand for a few precious seconds. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, adorably flustered as he helped you down. 

Joel beamed at you in return, smiling wide as you let his hand linger a bit longer than necessary before dropping it and heading towards the store. It would take some time for you to allow him to keep holding it, but that was okay. He’d wait forever if he had to. 

“Okay so, we’ll do produce, bread aisle, eggs, protein, snacks, frozen stuff, and then we’re out. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy,” you sighed, the stress rolling off of you in waves. 

Joel watched as you made yourself taller, straightening your spine fully as you walked through the doors with a hard look on your face. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume you were walking into a prison with how serious you became. It was like you were trying to ward off any inmates before they tried to punk you for being a newbie. 

“Is there a reason you’ve got us gearing up for a fight or do you usually prepare for battle every time you leave the house?,” Joel teased as he grabbed a cart and followed closely behind. 

“This place is worse than a friggin’ battleground,” you huffed, picking up a bag of peppers to inspect them before you plopped them into the cart, “It’s just so loud in here and people are always shoving me. That’s why I like the market better, it’s lower stakes and a better crowd.” 

Joel nodded, trying to think of the last time he had been there. He smiled when remembered it. An eight year old Ellie had begged him to take her and then subsequently dragged him around all the stalls to look at the local art. Everything the artists had talked to her about had been way over his head of course, but he thought it was nice that they took the time to recommend certain paints and canvases to an excited kid. The Miller crew’s trip to the market hadn’t lasted long, as Sarah had quickly gotten bored and started complaining about the heat, but he had enjoyed it until his children started hissing at each other like angry cats. With the bickering between sisters growing steadily in volume, the visit unfortunately had to be cut short before the two made a scene in front of the vendors. 

“The market’s nice, I get why you’d rather go there. To be honest with you, I usually get mine delivered,” Joel sighed and shook his head,“There’s way too many familiar faces here and not enough space to run.” 

“Sounds like a nightmare.” 

It could be, though there were times that Joel loved it. There was something comforting about living your entire life in the same town. Every street, every family, every stream, every nook and cranny had been accounted for in his thirty four years of living in Austin. However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the people who had watched him grow into the man he was, the same people that undoubtedly remembered every part of his life that he’d rather forget. Sometimes he wanted to drown all of his former selves in a river, snuffing them out so that nobody could remember the things he had done, the things that had been done to him, and everything in between. But what good would that do? Austin was where he had laid down roots, it was where he had raised his kids. There was no leaving it now. 

“Can be, but s’not too bad. Most of the looky-loos in this town are harmless, just old people and bored married couples looking to get their drama-fix. I don’t cause much trouble these days anyways so I’m usually left out of it, unless they’re feeling nostalgic,” Joel muttered.  

“Wait a second, so does that mean you were the town’s resident bad boy back in the day?,” you gasped. 

“Nah, that’s all Tommy. That boy’s got a record that’s probably got our mama spinning in her urn,” he chuckled and shook his head, “But me? Nah, I was just dumb sometimes. It was never anything too crazy.” 

“Do I get to know any of the dumb things you did or are you going to make me ask one of the chatty old birds that come into the library?,” you asked playfully, nudging your way into his personal space to reach for a loaf of bread. 

Joel swallowed hard as the curve of your ass brushed along his front, gritting his teeth as he felt it brush against his zipper. He prayed you wouldn’t feel him twitch against your backside as you bent over, especially with how thin your shorts were. His face burned as you turned around with an arm full of whole wheat, the knowing look on your face making him squirm. If only you knew just how starved for attention Joel was, or how many times in the last half hour he had thought about ripping those little shorts off and burying his face in between your plush thighs. Perhaps then you would know better than to toy with him in such a public setting. 

“Jesus,” Joel whispered, carefully readjusting himself while you turned to throw the bread into the cart. 

“Well?”

“Oh, uh…”

“The stupid things you did?,” you graciously reminded him. 

Joel cleared his throat, racking his brain for something outrageous enough to quench your curiosity without opening a can of worms. The last thing he needed was to have you go digging through his past before you knew him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Oh, I don’t know darling. Let’s see… Well, there was this one time during my senior year that I streaked a football game for a case of bud light.”

You cackled, “Bud light? Of all the beers, you risk a criminal record for that one? Bleh.” 

“Tell me about it,” Joel chuckled, remembering how unsatisfying the room temperature beer had been after the long term grounding his mom had greeted him with when he got home that night. 

“I never pegged you for a nudist,” you teased. 

He guffawed, “Nudist? I just didn’t have a fake ID yet and Tommy wouldn’t share his.” 

“Whatever you say Miller” you giggled, “Any other petty crimes you’d like to admit to?”

“One time I stole the principal's keys and filled his car with cow shit because he wouldn’t let me go to swim meets until I got my grades up,” Joel admitted, wincing as he added, “Thing is, he had already suspended Tommy earlier that day for smoking in the bathroom so uh…”

“They blamed him?!,” you nearly bellowed.  

“Quiet down! Yeah, they blamed him,” he groaned, rolling his eyes as you exploded into a fit of giggles, “But don’t you go telling him that sweetheart, that is top secret information. He still hasn’t put it together and I’d like to keep it that way.” 

“Shit, that’s good,” you panted, clutching your chest as you tried to catch your breath, “Oh my god Joel, that’s hilarious but don’t worry, I won’t tell him. Your secret is safe with me… I mean, unless you start pissing me off.”

“Haha, very funny,” Joel said, rolling his eyes at your teasing.

He watched as you struggled to hide a smile, shifting through one of the freezers for a ridiculous amount of snacks. 

“What about you? Were you the rebel or the prom queen?,” Joel asked, trying to imagine a younger, more awkward version of you. 

“More like the resident dork,” you said as you slammed yet another load of sugary treats and frozen pizzas into the cart, “It was just me and the other weird kids hanging out in the English teacher’s class during lunch so we could stay out of the way. No crazy stories there I’m afraid. ” 

He winced, “Jesus, m’sorry honey. I shouldn’t have asked.” 

“Meh, it wasn’t too bad. I spent most of my time reading with them during lunch or smoking in the woods behind the school. I had good grades so I was pretty much just waiting out the clock until I could graduate and haul ass to university,” you sighed. 

“Well, did you at least get to have a little fun there?,” Joel tried, already regretting his question when you scowled at the bag of fries you were holding. 

“Nah, my teens and twenties were both write-offs but that’s fine. Happens to the best of us,” you shrugged, “I’d say my thirties will be better but with how they started, I’m probably shit out of luck on that one. Fuck it, my forties will be my time to shine.” 

The back of Joel’s throat burned at that, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach as he imagined you in the worst conditions possible. He hadn't pushed you to divulge anything about your past, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but being left in the dark was starting to drive him insane. All he knew was what he could see: that you were incredibly jumpy, almost like you were terrified to disappoint him for some reason, and that you consistently prioritized the comfort of others over your own. Joel wasn’t the most perceptive man by any means, but he was more than capable of connecting the dots on that one. 

“Forties it is then,” he confirmed, unsure of what else there was for him to say. 

You grinned at him, “Promise?”

“Sweetheart, I’ll add on a lifetime if ya let me.”

A pleased noise came from you, the sound of it forcing all of the air from his lungs once again. Joel watched as you tried to compose yourself, practically glowing from the small comment he had made. His heart rate sped up, the heavy thuds shaking his entire being as the words sunk in for him as well. Why did he say that? He had meant it completely, but was it too soon? An excitable hum started beneath his skin, drawing life back into his body as he let himself dream of a future that seemed to be within his grasp for once in his life. 

“You’re fucking nuts,” you breathed out, not even trying to hide the way you stared at his lips. 

Joel clenched his fists, digging the blunt edges of his fingernails into his palms to keep from closing the distance. It would be so easy to melt into you, to allow himself to indulge in the sweet treat that was being waved in front of his face, but he couldn’t. He wanted the first time he kissed you to be monumental, for it to be something that would sweep you off your feet like you deserved. It could be nothing short of perfection. Which was why when you stepped closer, he looked away, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he tried to think of anything to say that would break the tension. 

“Uh,” he started, finding his distraction in the goods you had piled into the cart, “You’re calling me crazy? I’m not the woman who's buying damn near ten boxes of frozen pizza and about a gallon of rocky road. Are you going into hibernation or something?”

“Excuse me, it’s not my fault that your offspring are like black holes. Hell, I’m pretty sure that if I didn’t give them food they’d start chewing on my damn walls. What are you feeding them over there anyways? Air?,” you shot back, a ghost of a smile playing on your lips.  

Joel blinked, completely taken aback by your teasing. He knew that sometimes the girls went over for movie nights, which he assumed involved maybe a couple bags of popcorn, and perhaps even a few cans of soda to wash it down - nothing too crazy. He had no idea that you had been actually feeding his kids when he wasn’t around, even buying groceries for when they inevitably came waltzing into your home unannounced. All of the neurons in his brain clashed together as he let that soak in, an instinctual response brewing from somewhere deep inside of him. 

“I-I had no idea. Fuck, how long have you been doing that?,” Joel stammered, although he was unsure what a straight answer might do to his poor heart. 

“Hmmm, well they came over my first week in town and said they were starving. What was I supposed to do? Not feed them? That’s crazy! Plus,” you added with a shrug, “What can I say? It gets lonely eating dinner by yourself all the time and since you were at work, I figured it would be fine if I fed them. But uh, I can stop if you want.”

Joel’s brain short circuited, making him halt in place in the middle of the aisle. You had fed his girls in the times that he couldn’t, nourishing them as if they were an extension of yourself. Without even being asked to, you had helped his family. He swallowed hard, chest tight as the thought of you with his daughters blurred the edges of his mind, and he found himself barrelling towards you in an instant.  

Without thinking about it, Joel threw his arms around you, placing his chin on top of your head so that he could give you a firm squeeze. At first you did nothing except let out a small yelp, going still for a few moments before you slowly started to hug him back. It didn’t matter to him that the two of you were in the middle of the frozen foods section, or that the nosy shoppers stared as they passed by, what mattered was the soft noise you made when he nuzzled top of your head, and the way your hands soon gripped the back of his shirt like you were afraid that he might let go.  

“I don’t even know what to say sweetheart. That means the world to me,” he whispered into your hair, pressing a small peck on the side of your head before he pulled back to look at you, “Really, you have no idea.” 

“I-I um, it’s nothing Joel. They’re good kids, the best really, and I’d be pretty lonely without them. You shouldn’t even be thanking me, they were the ones doing me a favour by giving me a bit of human contact outside of work,” you answered shakily. 

“Sure,” Joel drawled, allowing you space to breathe as your knees started to shake under the heavy weight of his stare, “But thank ya anyways honey, I mean it.” 

You shook your head once, turning back towards the task at hand and Joel let you. He was walking on cloud nine, actually allowing his mind to go down that dangerous path filled with hopes and dreams. In that moment Joel decided that no matter what, he was all in. It was insane, committing himself to someone that he barely knew, but he didn’t give two shits. From the moment you stepped out of that bathroom and dropped your towel in front of him, you had wrapped around his heart like a vice, strangling it with every torturous beat. He needed to be yours, which was why he needed to ask before he exploded. 

“Are you doing anything later? I was wonderin’ if ya maybe wanted to -”

“Joel? Joel Miller?,” came from behind him, the familiar voice making his face fall. 

The world caved in on him in an instant, the walls growing and shrinking as Joel willed himself to turn around. He sighed, of course she would be at the grocery store. It was a Sunday, half the city was probably out and about before their weekends came to a close. He had been stupid, so irredeemably stupid when he agreed to come but in his defence, he had been hypnotized by your sultry gaze and satin skin on display. Joel gulped, visibly shrinking as he turned and finally locked eyes with the elderly woman. His heart stuttered, all of the memories flashing through his mind as he tried to think of what to say to her. 

“Well I’ll be damned, I thought that was you! Jesus, how long has it been? I started to think you’d moved away. How’ve ya been sweetie?”

Willa smiled at him, her eyes shining with a maternal kind of love that he didn’t deserve. After everything that had happened Joel hadn’t tried to contact her, not even once, as he had been too scared of what she might say to him. Or worse, what he would say to her. There were brief run-ins when the girls were young, before he had learned to avoid her usual spots, but aside from that he had thankfully managed to steer clear for nearly fifteen years. But at that moment there were no screaming babies for him to hide behind, just a beautiful woman looking terribly confused as she stood by his side. 

“Ooou, and who’s this? Tommy never told me you were seeing anyone,” she asked playfully. 

Fucking Tommy, Joel thought to himself. Of course he still talked to her, why would his little shit of a brother make anything easy on him? 

“Oh, this is um -”

Thankfully you stepped forward, side eyeing him as you gave her your name and shook her hand. Willa asked you something after that, likely about work or when you had gotten to town, but Joel’s mind was elsewhere. He was thinking about that night, about how he had been torn to shreds by an impossible decision. There had only been one answer to her question but it had shamed him to say it, to let go of a piece of himself so that he could focus on being a dad. It had felt like betrayal but even then, as a twenty year old idiot, he had known his answer. Still, knowing that he was right didn’t make it any easier. 

“I’m glad to meet one of Joel’s friends, I used to love it when the kids came to play in my yard and I got to meet all the little characters in their lives,” Willa laughed.

The kind squeeze that she gave to Joel’s forearm burned and he had to physically stop himself from jumping back. Stomach acid splashed against the back of his throat, forcing him to swallow a couple times so that he didn’t ruin your sneakers by vomiting all over them. He wondered briefly if the morning had been a dream, if he was really still at home in bed, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t wake himself up. 

“Aw, I can imagine. Ellie and Sarah were so cute when they were little, I saw some pictures at Joel’s and I almost died,” you gushed. 

“Oh no dear, I actually haven’t had the pleasure of meeting them now that they’re grown. I’m talking about him and T -” 

“We actually have to get going Willa but it’s been great seeing you,” Joel cut in, his heart pounding in his ears as he corralled you towards the check out, “But I’ll be sure to give you a call sometime, have a good day!” 

With tremors shaking his entire frame, Joel ushered you up to the front. He heard you asking him something but he was gone, splintered across time no matter how hard he tried to stay in the present. Childhood memories flooded his mind, followed by the ridiculousness of his teens and early adulthood, but it was those last few weeks that haunted him the most. How could he have not seen it? It had been right in front of him all along but he was too caught up to understand it at the time. 

“We don’t um, we don’t have to go to the bookstore if you don’t want to. I understand if you changed your mind,” you said softly as he moved forward to bag your groceries.  

Joel hip checked you when you tried to take one of the bags from him, too out of it to notice that he was being slightly rude. 

“That’s probably for the best,” he grunted, already kicking himself for the clipped tone he used. 

The way your face fell twisted Joel’s heart, only making him feel more disgusted with himself. For the life of him, he could never understand why he ever thought that this was a good idea. How could he ever think that you might be his future? You were soft and warm, deserving of all the best things that life could give. And Joel? He couldn’t even begin to explain to you why he was upset.

All of the words that Joel knew you wanted to hear died on his tongue, his throat dry and scratchy as he tried to force himself to speak. It was pointless. His vocal chords had been rusting for well over a decade, corroded by years of misuse and heartbreak, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t want to. God, he wanted to tell you so badly that it nearly killed him to watch you walk away from him. Your jaw was set, arms crossed over themselves in an attempt to comfort yourself in the way that he should be able to. It made him want to die. 

Joel thought of all the times that he had let women in his life walk away, about the greatest triumphs and failures of his life. Letting Marlene walk away? That had been hard, but necessary. She had never wanted him or Sarah, and he had no intention of forcing her to be someone other than the free spirited disaster that she had always been. But letting Tess walk away from him when she needed him the most? That was a choice that had hung over him like a knife for years, threatening to ruin every beautiful moment in his life. He didn’t want the same to be true about you. Tightening his jaw, he crammed the past back in its little box, stowing it away for later so that he could focus on the present. 

- You -

What the hell had just happened? 

Moments before Willa had come over to say hi, Joel had been carefree, staring at you with hearts in his eyes as the two of you filled your cart. However, the second he had heard her voice he had turned to stone, the light in his eyes dimming as she hobbled over with a gummy smile that reminded you of a grandmother long since passed. She was extremely kind and seemed ecstatic to see Joel after what you guessed to have been years, but he had been quick to drag you away from her. Was it you? Was it her? You had no idea but based on the way he was angrily chewing on the inside of his cheek as the two of you walked back to the truck, you didn’t dare ask. 

The silence on the walk back was unbearable, along with the awkward exchange when you handed Joel the keys so he could drive home. Although it had been fun to drive his truck, you didn’t feel like it anymore. The day had started off so happy and hopeful but for whatever reason, it was now ruined. The context of the exchange between Joel and Willa was lost on you but it still weighed heavy on your heart, as you were reminded once again that he was a stranger. 

Although Joel offered it to you when he was done putting the groceries in the back, you ignored the hand that was held out to you and threw yourself up into the seat instead. It was childish but at that moment, you would rather ungraciously flop into the truck than grab a hold of a man that refused to communicate with you. There had been enough of that in your previous relationship. Joel made an annoyed noise as you continued to ignore him, focusing your gaze ahead as he watched you angrily yank on the seatbelt. A beat passed when you were done, one where the tension between you grew thick with confusion and resentment, before he suddenly snapped the door shut. 

Stop it, stop it, stop it, you told yourself over and over again as your eyes began to water. It was stupid, you had no claim over any part of Joel’s life. He was under no obligation to tell you anything about his past and it was hypocritical to be mad at him for keeping secrets, especially when you also had things that you had yet to confess. However, as Joel took his time getting into the driver’s seat, you felt yourself grow increasingly impatient with him. His actions had triggered something inside of you, igniting a rage that could burn entire cities to the ground but just as you were about to explode, it was your door - not his - that was whipped open. 

“Joel?”

“I was a dick to ya just now,” he said bluntly. 

Oh. 

Of all the things Joel could have said, that was not something you would have ever predicted. A hush fell over the cab of the truck, the two of you locked in a staring contest as you tried and failed to think of a response. What could you possibly say to that? Sure, Joel had been snippy with you but why did he feel the need to apologize? Nobody had ever done that to you before and although you knew it was a good thing, you couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved by his honesty. It almost felt like him being angry with you would have been easier, or at the very least more familiar. 

“Okay,” you tried, twisting in the seat to face him as you asked, “Um, why did you do that?”

“Willa was…,” he groaned and rubbed his face, “She was the mother of someone I was friends with a long time ago. I’m sorry honey, I swear that I never meant to be rude to you or her. It’s just that I wanted today to be about you, not T-…”

Joel looked away then, his jaw working hard as he tried to hold back his own words. Given his cold expression most people would have assumed he was pissed, but you weren’t fooled by the tough guy act. Joel was scared, terrified really, with every muscle in his body bunched up like it was readying for an attack. You understood that kind of fear, had lived with it for so long that it had become comfortable. There was pain buried deep inside of him, trapped beneath years of silence, shame, and seething rage. All of it poured off of him in bitter waves and despite his obvious attempts to speak up, you realized that it would take some time for him to peel all of that back. 

“What happened?,” you asked softly. 

Joel’s gaze snapped back towards you, eyes ablaze with contempt for a second before he sighed and snuffed it out. Touchy subject, you noted, deciding to leave the question hanging in the air instead of pushing the matter. But the longer he kept quiet, the more he started to resemble a caged animal and without thinking, you laid a hand on his chest and pressed into the skin there in an attempt to ground him. Joel flinched at first but you were undaunted, understanding the fear that tensed his jaw and quickened the heart beating beneath your palms. It took a few more moments before the haunches started to lower, relief replacing terror as he began to realize that it was okay to be vulnerable. 

“Died,” Joel said, his voice gruff, “My best friend died and I don’t er… I haven’t talked about it, not yet at least. There wasn’t really any time to talk about it when it happened. I had two baby girls to take care of so…” 

“Oh Joel, I’m so sorry,” you sighed, aching from the sadness in his eyes.

“S’alright, I just don’t like to be reminded of it,” he plucked your hand from his chest, gripping it tight as he added, “I’m okay though baby, it was a long time ago anyways.”

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

Joel opened his eyes, his face wide open as he squeezed your fingers again and then laid the hand back over his beating heart. All of the air rushed out of your lungs at the small gesture, heart slamming against the inside of your chest as one of his hands came up to cup the side of your face. He tilted your head a bit, making sure you couldn’t look away from him as he spoke. 

“I’m gonna to tell you someday honey, I swear. It’s just hard and I don’t know how to…,” he trailed off, shaking his head at himself, “I need time to figure out how to say it. I’m sorry, I know that that might not be enough for you but I just can’t yet, okay?.” 

“Joel,” you whispered, eyes shining as you nuzzled his hand, an act that further softened his features and allowed his shoulder to drop a bit. 

“Is that alright?,” Joel asked, his eyes filled with hope and fear. 

You nodded and yanked on his arm, giggling at the small oof Joel let out as he fell into the cab. His chest slammed into yours, nearly knocking you back against the seat but you managed to regain your balance by wrapping your arms around him. A hushed groan rumbled in his chest as you pressed him closer, hands rubbing at his back as you squeezed him with all of your might. Usually you would be too scared to be this handsy but with the memory of Joel hugging you in the grocery store still fresh in your mind, you figured it was fine to level the playing field. 

“Fuck darling,” he sighed as he wrapped his strong arms around you, happily crushing you against him,“Where the hell did you come from, huh?”

“Mmm, heaven obviously,” you joked, earning a small laugh from him. 

Joel pulled away after a while and you let him, already missing the feeling of him against you. He slowly retracted his arms, making sure to brush every inch of skin with his rough palms as he did. A shudder passed through you, causing a sharp pang of lust to further dampen your poor panties. You weren’t sure if that had been his intention but based on the pleased look on his face, it certainly wasn’t an unwelcome development. 

“C’mon, enough talking about the past. Let’s get those groceries home before they go bad,” he said with a heavy sigh. 

“Oh shit! The groceries!,” you blurted out, trying to shove him out of the cab with all of your might, “Fucking shit, I completely forgot! We need to go before the ice cream melts! ”

“Alright, alright, hold your horses lady. I’m going, just give me a second,” Joel cackled, batting your hands away so that he could stop for a moment and straighten the few errant strands that had been smushed against the sides of your face from the hug. 

He grinned at you when he was done and then shut the door, jogging over to his side like he couldn’t wait to slip back into your presence again. Or perhaps that was just you that felt that way, but what did it matter? Joel was soon sitting beside you with his hand clamped down over your left thigh again, his thumb brushing the soft skin there as he drove towards home. Except this time, you reached down and slid your hand into his, holding it in your lap as you looked out the window. You didn’t dare look to see his reaction at first, utterly terrified that he would be sitting there with his jaw set or worse, that he would pull away entirely. But then you felt it, a small squeeze that wordlessly assured you that it was okay, that he liked the feeling of you holding his hand, and you relaxed a bit. 

Still, you didn’t look over until Joel was close to home, too shy to stare at him like he had stared at you. However, as he took the final turn onto your block, you had to sneak a peek. The sun framed him perfectly, making his skin glow beautifully under its warmth. He was so handsome, with a striking side profile that made you thank every higher power for strong noses. In truth, Joel Miller was a pretty man, although you held back from telling him that in fear that he would take it poorly. That didn’t make it any less true. He was absolutely beautiful and he was sitting next to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips while he let you play with his thick fingers. 

By the time you got home, you had mapped out every freckle on Joel’s face, every scar on the hand in yours, every inch of skin that wasn’t covered with clothing. It made you greedy for more. You were almost disappointed when the truck rolled into your driveway and he jumped out so he could sprint over to your side. Once again Joel helped you down,  stealing your breath away with the small act before he moved to grab your groceries. Despite your protests, he loaded his arms full of bags, leaving you with nothing but the task of holding the door open for him. 

“You’re being ridiculous Joel. I could take at least three of those bags and you’d still have the majority. For the love of God, just let me carry one,” you groaned, watching as he readjusted to squeeze himself through the front door. 

“Nope, I’m just fine darling,” he said casually, completely ignoring your attempts at trying to pry one from his grasp. 

“Hopeless,” you chuckled, shaking your head at his antics as he clumsily maneuvered his way past all of your living room furniture and into the kitchen. 

“Oh definitely sweetheart, but I think ya like it,” Joel threw over his shoulder. 

Joel wasn’t wrong, you liked it very much. As you watched him lug all of the groceries into the kitchen, starting to unbag them himself as you leaned against the counter with an amused grin, you realized that he wasn’t the only hopeless fool. Instead of asking you where everything went, he jammed all of the items in the most ridiculous places, so wrapped up in the task that he seemed to forget that you were in the room. And you let him, much too happy to say anything. 

“Not sure why I thought this would be a good idea” Joel huffed halfway through, peering at the bag of frozen peas that he was about to jam into the cupboard. 

“No shit Sherlock,” you mused, fondness blooming deep in your chest, “What’s the rush? Got some plans that I don’t know about?”

He faltered, “I uh, well yeah actually, I do.” 

“Oh,” you said, unable to fully mask the disappointment in your voice as you pushed off the sink, “Shit, I’m sorry Joel. I didn’t realize that I was holding you up, you should have told me! Here, let me take over. All you’re doing is wreaking havoc anyways.” 

“Sweetheart, you probably should have taken over about five minutes ago. I have no sweet clue what I’m doing here,” he admitted. 

“You don’t say,” you chuckled, grabbing the peas from him so you could shove them in the freezer, “Go, I’m fine here. I wouldn’t want to make you late or anything.” 

“Well, my plans, they um… I had hoped that they would involve you if you weren’t too sick of me yet,” Joel ventured, trying to keep his tone light despite the anxiousness you could see weighing him down. 

“You made plans for us?,” you asked with a slightly warbly voice. 

He nodded solemnly, almost like he was confessing to a crime, “I was gonna go home and grab a few things first but then I thought we could head out. Don’t feel like you have to though, it’s just an idea.” 

Was this -? No, it couldn’t be. There was no way Joel would ask you out on a date so casually. It had to be just a social gathering, a nice hang out between friends. 

“Okay, well, do I get to know what the plans are? Or am I just supposed to just guess what type of clothes to wear and hope for the best?,” you questioned, earning a laugh from him. 

“You’re perfect the way you are darling, don’t change anything unless you want to,” he answered easily, the truth evident in the way his eyes greedily raked over your body. 

The outfit you were wearing wasn’t your best work but it had certainly gotten the job done. Every time you caught Joel staring at your breasts or goggling at your ass had reminded you just how easy it was to impress men. Flowy shorts and a tank top, that’s all there was to the outfit and yet, for the entirety of the day he had stared at you like you were wearing a set of lingerie.  

“Hmmm, okay. I guess I’m in,” you cooed. 

“Well alright then baby,” Joel said sweetly, beaming at you as he turned towards the door, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” 

“I don’t have much of a choice now. Thanks to you, I’ve got fucking ice cream melting under my sink and dry pasta in the fridge,” you pointed out, forcing a bark of laughter from him. 

Joel raced out the door, the boyish grin on his face making you unreasonably excited. The second you heard the front door shut behind him, you let out a breath and surveyed the disaster, groaning as you realized the damage he had done. You sighed, deciding to leave the best of it and correct only the necessary things; like the milk left on the counter or the cucumber shoved in the freezer. It didn’t take long and once you were done, you sprinted up the stairs, gunning it for your room so you could change into something a bit more tantalizing. 

This morning’s outfit had been perfect for the store but with Joel refusing to give you a location for his mystery trip, you refused to be duped into going somewhere unprepared. It was better to be too dressed up than to be embarrassed for the rest of the day. Tearing off your clothes, you dug into the pile of sundresses that you had ripped from the closet earlier, picking up one of your favorites. It was a blue milkmaid dress with a lace bow that sat right in between your breasts, the thin strip of fabric barely managing to hold the girls in. You smiled, the dress was just what you needed if you wanted to make Joel Miller squirm. 

After smoothing your hair back into a messy yet stylish updo and re-applying a generous layer of deodorant, you stopped by the mirror to look at yourself. If anything, the outfit was a little much. The dress teetered on the edge being a tad too sexy from the cleavage alone, but the fact that the ends of your dress went below your knees helped even it out. Despite how bold it might be, as you slipped on a pair of shoes and drifted down the hallway, you knew that your intended audience would love it. 

Excitement rushed through you as Joel called your name from downstairs, this time forgoing the knock to push the front door open and make himself at home in your space again. Although an open door policy had not been your original plan for living in Austin, you were more than willing to make an exception for the Miller family. The girls had taken to it almost immediately, even going as far as to wander upstairs if they couldn’t find you on the first floor, and the thought of Joel someday being comfortable enough to do the same sent a thrill down your spine. 

“Coming!,” you called out, feeling like a giddy schoolgirl as you raced down the stairs 

Joel waited for you at the bottom of the staircase, a fresh shirt hugging him in all the right places and his curls finally released from the confines of a hat. He looked good, so good that you felt all the confidence the dress had bestowed upon you slipping away. Instead of gliding over to him like the kind of sultry succubus you were attempting to emulate, you nearly tripped over your own feet trying to get to him, the desperation to be near him shining through in an instant. But if he noticed, he didn’t say a word, as he was too wrapped up in his own desire to fault you for being flustered. 

“Wow, you look… Wow,” Joel breathed, stepping closer so he could get a good look at you. 

“A good wow?,” you softly ventured.

“Yeah darling, a very good wow,” he chuckled, his eyes never once leaving that little bow that strained against the weight of your breasts with every breath. 

The dress wasn’t playing fair, you knew that, but it was completely necessary. The patience Joel Miller possessed was commendable, almost painfully so, and you intended to shatter it if it was the last thing you did. You were absolutely famished, growing ever more desperate with each soft touch or brief glance. In order to protect your own sanity, it was time for you to pull out the big guns.

“Good,” you said sweetly, surprising him by taking his hand, “Now, where to next handsome?” 

Joel ushered you back into the truck without another word, once again holding the door for you like the gentleman he was. He was more jumpy than usual as he pulled out of the neighbourhood, a slightly panicked look on his face as he drove, and so you did the only thing you could think of. Carefully, you pried one of his hands off of the steering wheel, gently leading it back down to your lap so you could hold it as he drove. 

“Thank ya darling,” Joel sighed, relaxing slightly against the seat as he squeezed your fingers. 

You hummed, granting him a small smile as you turned your attention to the window. It felt so natural to have Joel’s steady presence at your side, the warmth of his palm making you tingle and his scent invading all of your senses. But when you looked over to see if he was savoring the innocent touch like you were, you noticed that he had sunk back into his own worries, grinding his teeth together with a force that would undoubtedly give him a migraine later. With a sigh, you lifted the cup holder and scooched across the bench, determined to distract him as you pressed into his side. 

“What are ya - oh,” Joel halted, his voice laden with shock as you maneuvered his arm so that it could drape over your shoulders. 

“Relax Joel, you’ve already made it this far. It’s not like I’m gonna run off screaming, you’re my only way home,” you teased. 

“Roger that honey,” he chuckled, the tension breaking as he pressed you so close to his chest that you could hear his heart steadily thumping in your ear. 

Although the day was warm, you didn’t mind being so close to Joel. The AC leveled the playing field quite a bit, making the heat of his skin welcoming as you lounged against him. Before long you couldn’t even pay attention to the road anymore, too relaxed to truly give a damn about where he was taking you. As long as Joel stayed as he was, radiating an unreasonable amount of heat that brought you to the brink of unconsciousness, he could take you across state lines for all you cared. He was just so cozy, like falling asleep on a heated blanket, and you couldn’t help but doze off despite your best efforts to stay awake.  

“We’re here honey,” Joel whispered after some time, his mustache bristling against the shell of your ear. 

“Mmmphf?,” you hummed, yawning as you peeled yourself away from him and looked out the window. 

Joel had brought you into some sort of field, although he had parked a long way away from any structure or road. The sun touched every tree, every patch of flowers, and every soft patch of grass, illuminating the entirety of the property in a way that made it look like a painting. Your mouth popped open, a shock running through you as you watched a set of squirrels chase each other into the wooded area up ahead. 

There was a clear path near the entryway of the woods, undoubtedly leading towards whatever hidden treasure Joel was bringing you to. It was funny. If any other man would have brought you out to the middle of nowhere and asked you to walk down a spooky looking trail with him, you would have ran away as fast as you could. But with Joel, you felt perfectly at ease. Ignoring all of the self preservation skills you had earned from a lifetime of being a woman, you hopped out of the truck and grabbed his free hand, walking straight into the forest with a smile on your face

“What is this place?,” you questioned, eyeing some of the more overgrown parts of the path. 

“This is my parent’s place,” Joel said as he held one of the branches back for you, “Or it was. I don’t know. They’re both gone, so I suppose it’s mine and Tommy’s now but neither of us really use it. He likes being in town and I don’t have the time to fix the house up quite yet, someday though.”

Remembering the sprawling fields and how beautiful the lake in the distance looked, you were slightly jealous. The property was gorgeous, with the added bonus of being away from the hustle and bustle of town. Looking over the terrain, you couldn’t help but feel sad that neither of the brothers had taken the property for themselves. The place had once been loved by the Miller family and now it was all but forgotten. Even the trail Joel led you down showed signs of neglect, crowded by years of accumulated debris and overgrown brush. More than a few times he had to push back the branches before they smacked you in the face, or point out fallen logs for you to jump over. Still, traces of the family remained. 

There was the bench that someone had made out of a log near the entrance, along with a forgotten treehouse about halfway through with the faded words - Joel’s Clubhouse, Stay Out Tommy! - emblazoned onto the side. Even more interesting was the tree that had T.M. + A.J. 4-Ever carved into the side of it, with a wonky heart around it that made you laugh. Everywhere you looked, the ghosts of the people who had previously loved this spot lingered, yet you still couldn’t figure out why it had been abandoned. 

“Jesus, I’m sorry honey. It wasn’t this bad the last time I was up here,” Joel swore, catching you before you had a chance to stumble over a rock. 

“And when was that?,” you huffed as a branch nearly wacked you in the face. 

He scratched the back of his head, looking incredibly guilty as he admitted, “Well, the girls were still in elementary so...” 

“So, a long time then?,” you deadpanned. 

“Shit, guess so. I’m sorry honey. Can you just hold on just a little longer? Please, we’re almost there. I promise that it’ll be worth it.” 

Sighing, you nodded and grabbed the hand outstretched to you, allowing Joel to lead you the rest of the way. There were a few more stumbles, along with quite a few swears that were knocked loose when a branch nicked you or a root threatened to take you both down but finally, you made it. He turned as he led you out into the clearing, a nervous smile on his face as you took it all in. 

“What d’ya think?,” Joel asked. 

“Joel, I don’t even know what to say. This is - holy shit,” you breathed. 

The first thing that caught your eye was the waterfall that pounded against the rocks, along with the deep swimming pole that rested twenty feet below, right next to where the trail ended. There was a moss-ridden rope swing hanging off of one of the many trees on the other side, swaying back and forth like it was begging to be used. You smiled, imagining a much younger version of Joel spending his summers swimming with his friends and fishing for trout. Everything was so rich and green, with pops of bright colors coming in the form of the perfectly placed flowers that sprinkled the usual foliage. 

“Who planted the flowers?,” you mused, bending over to get a whiff of the marigolds. 

“Our mama did. She did most of them before I was born, but I helped her with a patch or two when Tommy was still in diapers,” Joel said from behind you, his voice soft as he reminisced, “She loved it here, we all did.”

There was something so intimate about being brought to a place that clearly held so much meaning to his family. It was like he was trying to show you a part of himself that he couldn’t possibly explain with words. He had brought you to his parent’s place to show you the Joel Miller who had existed before he was a parent, before he had a past that weighed him down. The land on which you stood had been home to the boy who was carefree and young, not the man who everyone turned to. To be trusted with such a place was an honour that was not lost upon you.  

“This place is,” you cleared your throat, thankful that you were facing the water so that he couldn’t see you wipe away tears, “This place is amazing Joel, truly. I don’t really know what to say except - thank you for bringing me here. I love it.” 

With that, you turned back towards him, shocked to find him no longer behind you. Instead, Joel was sitting on a blanket he had sprawled along the side of the rushing waters, looking a bit sheepish as your mouth popped open. There were wrapped sandwiches, fruit, juice boxes, and even a bag of chips laid out against the thick fabric. You stared at the feast, trying to understand why your heart was beating so hard that it shook your ribcage. It was just food and yet, as your eyes locked with Joel’s, it became clear that it was much more than that. 

“Holy shit,” you gasped, but he was undeterred. 

“I know that this is a bit backwards, especially with how we met but um, I thought we could have dinner?,” Joel proposed, starting to twitch as he continued, “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I kept it simple but we could always go somewhere else if this wasn’t - if you didn’t want -”

“This is - You want me t-,” you cut in, taking a shaky step closer, “Joel, is this a date? Did you bring me out here for a date?” 

“If you don’t w -”

The panic set in, ensuring that whatever Joel was about to say would be trampled by the word vomit that spewed out of your mouth. 

“- Because you should really let a girl know if you’re going to take her on a date so that she can prepare properly. I didn’t even shave my legs Joel! And the dress is just - ugh, why would you do this to me?,” you exclaimed, stomach turning as you looked down at your outfit. 

Seconds ago it had been cute and sexy but with the term date hanging over you, it suddenly felt like you were wearing rags. Why didn’t you try harder? An all out breakdown was on the way, your chest burning as you struggled to take in air. You tried to focus on the positive, on the fact that you now had indisputable evidence that Joel felt the same way but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t figure out how to get your lungs to cooperate. In and out, that’s all there was to it and yet just as you thought that you might collapse, Joel’s hands gripped the sides of your face and forced you to look up at him. 

“Hey, hey, look at me baby. It’s okay, m’here, just breathe,” Joel cooed, his face warped yet still beautiful in your blurred vision.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know why I-”

“Shh, enough of that sweet girl. There ain’t nothing to be sorry for, just breathe with me,” he murmured as one of his hands wandered down to wrap around your waist, the other one burying itself in your hair, “That’s it, just like that.” 

The closer Joel pulled you, the easier it was to breathe and so you leaned into him with all of your might. The warmth radiating off of him trickled into you, soothing all of the nerves that made you shake and shiver every time you looked at the impromptu picnic. All it took was a couple seconds of breathing him in before you finally relaxed, too intoxicated by the weight of his hands on you and the smell of him to be terrified. 

“Listen to be honey,” he murmured, pulling back to look you in the eye, “I brought you here because it’s one of my favorite places and I figured that with all those plants you’ve got in the front window, you’d probably like it too.”

“I do like it Joel, it’s just -”

“Hush, just let me say something first. Then you can go back to freaking out, okay?,” he tried. 

“Okay,” you whispered. 

“This is all I want tonight; just me and you enjoying this place. It doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. All I want is to spend time with you, but we can leave if you don’t like it. You’re in control here baby,” Joel said earnestly as he pushed the stray hairs from your face.  

Joel waited for a response, his face neutral despite the panic you knew he was undoubtedly drowning in. You had to hand it to him, the man had the patience of a saint. If it were you who had put yourself out of the line, you would be on the verge of a heart attack. Not that your current position was much better. The answer you wanted to give him was yet - Jesus fucking Christ yes please, oh my god - but you were stuck. There was so much you hadn’t told him about your past, about the skeletons locked inside of your closet, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to talk about it yet. Did Joel deserve a partner like that? And after everything you had been through, did you truly want to carry the guilt that would come from hurting a good man? 

“But, you don’t know me. What if you get to know me and…,” you stumbled on the words, trying to think of a way to make him understand your dilemma without divulging anything. 

“S’not possible baby,” Joel said with a tormented look on his face, as if the very thought of disliking anything about you physically pained him. 

Although you weren’t sure that you believed him, your resistance was weak. Plus, Joel Miller was much more charming than he gave himself credit for. 

“Okay and um… If I said that I did want it to be a date? What then?,” you asked. 

“Well, then we should probably go sit down and eat then,” he said with a wry grin. 

Was it fair? No, but Joel was kind and handsome, the complete opposite of the men in your life thus far. In the wake of your crumbling marriage and the embarrassment of having to start again, you decided that it was okay for you to be selfish for once. So you let Joel lead you back towards the blanket, smiling as he helped you sit down and took his spot at your side. He handed you one of the sandwiches and a juice box, grinning as he grabbed his own and began to unfold the wax paper. You did the same and although you were still wary of the situation, there was a small part of you that was elated. 

The date served as concrete proof that you weren’t completely insane, that Joel also felt the connection between you that only grew stronger with each passing day. He wanted you. No matter how terrible the future may be, or how badly he might take it when you finally opened up to him, in that moment you were wanted. As stupid as that small victory was, you decided to take the win and chomped down on the delicious sandwich that he had made for you. 

“Jesus Joel, this is good,” you hummed, reveling in the simple yet satisfying blend of flavours. 

“It’s just a club,” Joel laughed, his voice muffled around the ginormous bite he had taken. 

“Mmm, I guess,” you granted him, “But I suck at cooking so anything other than frozen food or take out is a godsend.” 

He raised his brows, unable to keep the edges of his mouth from turning downwards. 

You sighed, “Just say it.”

“Why the hell did we just buy nearly half the grocery store then?,” Joel chuckled, getting a playful shove from you in return. 

“I said that I suck at cooking, not that I don’t. A girl’s gotta eat something other than delivery or frozen pizza every so often,” you huffed, rolling your eyes at his grunt of disapproval, “Besides, I have a personal chef whenever Sarah comes over. That girl can make a mean stir fry.” 

“Guess I’ll have to come cook for ya too, can’t have my girl eating garbage all the time just because she won’t buy a damn cook book,” he grumbled. 

“I’d like that,” you whispered, his words not lost on you in the slightest. 

Joel grinned at that, the longing in his eyes leaving you absolutely breathless. Warm pools of melted chocolate looked you up and down, a happy sigh coming from him in lieu of a verbal response. His shoulder bumped against yours, the light in his eyes still present even as you both went back to your sandwiches. 

“So, is this the part where I’m supposed to tell you my favorite color?,” you asked after a while, not used to the silence between you. 

He shrugged, “Dunno, you can if you want to.” 

“Oh come on, you’re telling me that Joel Miller - the resident DILF of all of the parent/teacher conferences in Austin - does not know how to small-talk on a first date?,” you teased. 

Joel’s ears grew red, a bashful look on his face as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

“I don’t know what a DILF is, but no? To be honest with ya honey, I ain’t been on a real date for a couple of years. Kinda flying by the seat of my pants right now,” he admitted. 

“Years?,” you exclaimed, convinced that you were hearing him wrong, “

He shrugged, “I mean, I’ve gone on dates but nothing really comes of it. Work is always busy and I’ve got the girls. I don’t like to bring the women I see around them, s’not right to introduce them to someone who doesn’t plan on being around for long.” 

“But I’ve met the girls,” you pointed out, unable to keep the satisfied smirk from your face. 

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, but you’re different.” 

“Why’s that?,” you chirped. 

“Because I actually like spending time with ya,” Joel responded, the truth of his words evident in the way he blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. 

A small giggle fell from your lips, forcing you to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep it in. Joel chuckled along, looking bashful as you tried to get it together. 

“What um… What about you darling? I bet you’ve got a whole line of fellas trying to take ya out on the town,” he ventured. 

It was like someone had dumped cold water over you, freezing all of your veins and numbing the tips of your fingers. The smile on your face vanished, along with the easy going vibe in the air. For a portion of a second, you had actually forgotten about the man you tried so hard not to name, the one that had yet to send the divorce papers that would close that chapter of your life for good. 

It was Joel you felt bad for. He had put in so much effort for someone that was unfortunately, still legally married. How were you supposed to tell Joel about Peter? Would he understand or would he be livid? Fear prickled your skin the longer you stayed silent, spreading goosebumps all throughout your body as you imagined the worse. Although it seemed unlikely that Joel would yell at you, calling you a slut before he abandoned you in the middle of nowhere, you didn’t trust him enough yet to completely discount the idea.   

“Um, no. I haven’t been on a date in a couple years actually,” you admitted, bypassing the complicated backstory in exchange for a simpler response. 

It wasn’t technically a lie, Peter hadn’t taken you out for anything even remotely resembling a date in years. To him, all of those work sponsored functions and snobby parties were the same thing, regardless of the fact that you hated them with a passion.

“Hm, well… I guess we’re in the same boat then baby,” Joel said kindly, pressing his side into your in a way that both soothed and excited you. 

“Mmm hmm.” 

A silence fell over the two of you, nothing but the sounds of the wind, the birds, and the water as you both returned to the feast. After the awkward question, neither one of you felt the overwhelming urge to fill the silence but every so often, an off handed question would come up about favorite foods or music, the hobbies you had as a kid, or a spirited debate about whether pineapple deserved a spot on pizza or not. It was perfectly uncomplicated, a good introduction to what you hoped would be the first of many dates. Too bad you had your own awkward question that you had been dying to ask. 

“Joel, can I ask you something?,” you ventured cautiously, not wanting to ruin the mood. 

“Course,” he answered around another humongous mouthful of food. 

“I um… I know that you don’t know anything about Ellie’s parents,” you began slowly, wincing as his eyes darkened, “But what about Sarah? She clearly had a mom at some point, unless you’re telling me that two babies got left at your jobsite within the span of a few months.” 

Joel looked away from you for a moment, sighing as he watched the flies dance along top of the river. He didn’t look angry, or particularly heart broken either, just unbelievably exhausted at the mere thought of having to speak about the mystery woman. You wondered why. Just one mention of her and the liveliness had drained from his eyes. 

“Sarah’s mom was my high school girlfriend, but we were on and off after we graduated,” Joel started, shaking his head as he continued, “It was all very dramatic and young. We were always trying to make it work, but it was pointless. Her and I were complete opposites.” 

“Okay,” you said slowly, “But what happened?”

“During one of our ‘on’ periods, I left to go do some shows in Houston. When I came back she was gone, but that was pretty usual for Marlene. She couldn’t stay still for long and to be completely honest with ya, I wasn’t much of a catch those days,” he sighed. 

You snored, “I highly doubt that Joel.” 

“It’s true,” Joel confessed, waving off your attempts at comforting him, “S’alright sweetheart, I’m a grown man now. I can admit that I was a piece of shit when I was nineteen, who isn’t? I was a mess, I drank too much, and all I really cared about was playing music. That’s not the type of guy you fall for.” 

You nodded, not entirely understanding his predicament but empathizing nonetheless. 

“Anyways, she left and I thought I was off the hook again…,” he huffed, rubbing his face as he added, “Even started seeing someone new and then nine months later, boom! Marlene shows up to the house with a baby - my baby - I damn near had a stroke.”

A beat passed and you didn’t move to fill the silence, giving Joel time to collect himself before he continued. 

“We got back together for a bit and it was okay. Sarah deserved stable parents, that’s what we decided early on, but then she was born early and things got even more complicated. I couldn’t even hold her for weeks and Marlene, she…,” Joel winced, trailing off as it became too much. 

“It’s okay Joel,” you whispered as you reached out and squeezed his harm. 

He gave you a sad smile and you nodded, wordlessly urging him to continue. 

“The fighting started again but this time it was so much worse. She kept pulling back and I just couldn’t understand why,” he shook his head, “I should’ve seen it coming, but I was too busy being scared. Then one day I came home and she was gone again. No note, not for me or for our little girl, nothing. I haven’t seen her since.” 

The bitterness laced into Joel’s tone was nothing you had heard before but you didn’t blame him. Abandoning him was one thing, but abandoning a sick infant without leaving so much as an explanation was something else altogether. You didn’t want to judge Marlene too harshly, knowing all too well how much different being a mother was and how many women failed miserably when they fell into the role by accident. But it was hard not to, especially with how good natured you knew her ex partner to be, or how thoughtful the daughter that she’d never know was. It might have been the right choice for her to leave, but that didn’t mean her decision was harmless. 

“I’m sorry Joel, that… Well, that fucking sucks,” you conceded, unable to think a more eloquent way of putting it. 

Joel tipped his head back and laughed, the sound of it bouncing off of the trees. His whole body shook, the boisterous cackling only getting worse each time he tried to speak. It was only after the third attempt that he stopped trying altogether and let himself fall apart, which earned a few awkward giggles from you too as he let himself lose it. 

“Jesus, I ain’t never had someone put it like that. That fucking sucks,” he repeated, cackling as he wiped the tears from his eyes, “People usually just apologize and change the subject. You’re something else baby, you know that right?” 

“What can I say? I aim to impress,” you tried, relaxing as the sadness in his eyes faded away.

Joel’s eyes dragged across you for a moment, the lazy smile on his face as his laughter petered off. Even though the sun was still high in the sky, it was him that brightened up every aspect of your day. You blinked when he laid against the blanket and patted his side, beckoning you to come join him. A moment passed where you just stared at him, debating whether or not he was joking until a challenging look from him made you slide down to his level. The noise you let out when Joel pulled you into his side, adjusting you so that your head was resting against your chest, was mortifying but he didn’t say a word. Instead you let him direct your attention upwards, to where the trees swayed and the golden rays peaked in through dense foliage. 

“Do I get to ask a personal question now?,” he asked after a while, drawing soothing circles on your back. 

“Go for it cowboy,” you mumbled, nuzzling his side as you let his proximity slowly draw you back into a terribly needed nap.  

“What happened before you came here? I don’t want to pry, but I figured that since we’re laying all of our cards on the table, now’s as good a time as any,” he suggested. 

That got your attention. Joel squeezed you a bit tighter when you tensed, using the effect he so clearly had on you to ease your worries. No matter how badly you wanted to pull away, to petulantly tell him off for asking before you fled from the forest like a wounded animal, you couldn’t. His hands were magic, brushing over every inch of strained muscle in your back before they were forced to relax. He was gentle in his attentions, unendingly soft for you as you tried to open a door for him, and you hugged him harder in thanks. When all the fear had drifted away, you sighed, realizing that he was right. You would have to tell him something about yourself at some point. 

“I found my husband of eight years fucking his research assistant in our bed but,” you sighed, pushing past the shame to admit, “Even before that, he had humiliated me for years. Then one day I woke up and I just couldn’t do it anymore, so I left. I bought the first place I could find and then hauled ass the second that the coast was clear.” 

“What a fucking asshole,” Joel spat, the rage he felt practically vibrating under his skin. 

There was some sick, twisted part of you that hoped Peter would have the balls to show his face in town. The thought of watching as Joel knocked him flat on his ass, just as he did to the last man that disrespected you, was embarrassingly attractive. It spoke to a darker, base instinct that screamed at you to climb the strongest, most caring protector like a tree. 

“Yeah well, I guess I got the last word anyways. He gets to try to save face with all of his snobby friends and I get my freedom,” you muttered as you tried to look on the bright side, “It’s not like I had much to leave behind anyways, I had no friends and the stuff in the apartment was his.” 

“Ten years is a long time,” he remarked as his hand rubbed lazy circles onto your back. 

Ten years was practically a lifetime, especially when you were locked in hell for the majority of it. That being said, you didn’t want Joel’s pity, or anyone else’s for that matter. Peter hadn’t hurt you physically, but he had chipped away at your confidence and made it so that you couldn’t perceive yourself without his approval. That sort of mind control took years to break and luckily, you had snapped out of it before you popped out one of his squalling babies. You took pride in that, in refusing to become the perfect little wife he wanted you to be. Peter had lost and despite the pain he had caused, you were stronger for it. 

“It is, but I’m,” you stopped, propping yourself so you could look him in the eye as you added, “I’m free now Joel. I left him with everything - the apartment, the cars, the money. Hell, I even left all of the jewelry he had bought me. Peter can take everything, just so long as he signs.” 

“Wait, he hasn’t signed the divorce papers yet?,” he asked, a line forming between his brows. 

A jolt of fear rushed through you at the concern in Joel’s voice. You hadn’t meant to say that, it just popped out. Unsure of what he was going to say, you nodded back to him, too scared to fully explain the situation. No matter what any legal system said, as far as you were concerned, Peter was not your husband anymore. He had betrayed you time and time again, breaking his vows to you for who knows how long. How could a man like that possibly be your spouse? 

“For fuck’s sake,” Joel sighed, his tone making you tense for a split second before he added, “At this point, it’s the least that the asshole can do. Want me to talk to him?

A surprised laugh spilled from your lips, pushing out all fears about the past being an issue in an instant. Joel cocked one of his eyebrows at you as you cackled, entirely serious about the ominous threat against your ex. 

“What? I’m serious honey. I could make it sign it,” he solemnly swore. 

“Oh I don’t doubt it Miller,” you granted him, smiling down at your ridiculous saviour, “But I’ve got it handled. Peter doesn’t scare me anymore, he’s just a miserable asshole.” 

“I’m sorry, you deserve better than that baby, so much better,” Joel said after a bit, eyes blazing with an intensity that made you ache. 

“I know that now,” you agreed, smiling at him despite everything, “Feel like running away yet Miller? I probably should have told you all of that before I agreed to this but saying that I’m a soon-to-be divorcee doesn’t exactly sound very sexy.”

“Nah, I don’t scare easy,” Joel chuckled and shook his head, “And divorcee? Please, I’m a single dad of two teenage girls. That ain’t nothin.” 

“We’re a good match then I guess,” you giggled, the weight of the world lifted from your chest with that simple assurance. 

Joel didn’t care about your past, nor did he get angry with you for not telling him about the divorce papers he had yet to sign. By all accounts that was a win and it deserved a celebration. You leaned back down, melting against him once more so that you could watch the trees sway. With a full belly and the weight of the world off your shoulders, you both relaxed a little easier. A layer of sweat soon formed between the two of you, the warmth of the day slowly becoming stifling. Neither of you moved, unwilling to break the contact that you both desperately needed despite the heat. The longer you laid together, the hotter it became, until an idea suddenly popped into your head. 

“We should go swimming,” you piped up, making him jolt as you sat up. 

“What? We can’t sweetheart, I don’t uh… I didn’t bring anything for us to wear,” Joel said slowly, the confusion clear on his face as you started taking off your shoes. 

You shrugged, “Pretty sure you’ve got a pair of underpants on that work just fine if you need them that bad.” 

Before Joel could answer, you stood up and tugged at the dress, letting it fall to the ground so you could step out of it. The panties you wore were red and satiny, with tiny strips of lace around the edges that scratched at your sensitive skin. They were certainly not the looser, more comfortable pair you had worn to the grocery store, and you thanked your past self for thinking ahead. Your breasts were bare, bra long since forgotten at home in order to make the bust of your dress work. A pinched groan came from behind you and you grinned, taking your sweet time as you turned towards him. Joel’s mouth fell open as he caught sight of your bare chest, his usual scowl quickly morphing into pure shock. 

“W-What are you doing baby? You don’t um - you don’t have on…,” he trailed off, his voice unusually high as you toyed with the edge of your panties. 

“I can’t wear a bra in the dress or the straps will show. Why? Do you want me to put it back on?,” you asked with a cheeky grin.  

The power you felt from watching Joel shake his head, floundering as your thumbs hooked into the lace edges, was addictive. His throat bobbed around an audible gulp and you could tell he was struggling to form words. Nobody had ever gazed upon you so reverently, so ravenously, and it filled you with pride. With him looking at you like you were a goddess, licking his lips as he scrutinized every inch of you, shame had no leg to stand on. His gaze made you feel sexy and confident, which was why you pushed all reservations aside and let the last bit of satiny fabric fall to the ground. 

“Sweet Jesus,” Joel whispered, his fists clenching and unclenching the blanket below him. 

“C’mon Miller, don’t act like you haven’t seen it all before. Now get up and let’s go swimming,” you urged him, giving him a wink as you turned and rushed towards the water, “Unless you’re chicken!” 

The cold water welcomed you, acting as the perfect balm to your overheated skin. All of the heat that had built up since that morning was leached from your body, bubbles bursting from your mouth as you sighed in relief from the bottom of the pool. You blinked up at the surface, allowing your feet to dig into the mud a second longer to enjoy the silence. A small part of you wanted to remain at the bottom, allowing yourself to enjoy the cold and the quiet, but you decided against it. Being yanked out of the water by Joel because he thought you were drowning didn’t exactly scream sexy. With that realization, you released the stale air in your lungs, pushing off the bottom and as you swam to the surface. 

Coming up felt like being reborn, with all of the sweat and the worries being washed clean from your sticky skin the second your head breached the surface. Given the heavy talk the two of you just had, you wanted nothing more than for Joel to experience it too. However, as you caught a glimpse of him still on the shore, his shirt and pants off but his hands hesitantly resting on the waistband of his boxers, you could see the reservations he had. 

“Are you gonna make me swim all by myself?,” you called out, smiling as he rolled his eyes at you. 

He sighed and shook his head, “I’m coming baby, I just uh… I don’t… Do you want me to…?”

The things that you would do to have Joel pull those thin boxer shorts down were unimaginable, not that you needed him to really. Even from where you were, the outline alone was impressive and if that didn’t make you want to start begging for it, the man himself was built like a Greek god. He was pure muscle, with even the softest parts of him blessed with an undeniable strength hiding underneath. A smattering of chest hair caught your attention, along with an equally enticing trail below his belly button that begged to be traced with your tongue. You shook your head, banishing all of the filthy thoughts about him that plagued you. If Joel was feeling uncomfortable, that needed to be addressed before your shameless lust. 

“Joel, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Keep them on if it makes you more comfortable but just know,” you narrowed your eyes, shifting into a playful tone that caught his attention, “I can see him anyways, so it really doesn’t make a difference.” 

Joel’s mouth fell open, his gaze snapping downwards so he could see for himself. The redness on his ears crept down his neck, flooding his face as he realized how exposed he was. He moved to cup himself but then stopped, the gears in his head turning as he weighed his options. 

“Fuck it,” Joel muttered as he ripped the shorts clean off his legs. 

A pleased smile graced your lips as the grey fabric hit the ground, a dull ache starting between your thighs with Joel’s entire body on complete display. Immediately your sights zeroed in on his most intimate area. Even soft, Joel’s dick was impressive; long and thick, with a slight curve to it that you knew would rub against all the right places. The veins on the side of it were prominent, with a trimmed bush at the bottom that surprised you.  For some reason, you had envisioned him as an undiscovered forest type of guy but with some of the foliage cleared, the possibilities were endless. 

“Quit staring at it honey,” Joel chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as you continued to blatantly stare at his cock. 

How were you supposed to do that when he was walking towards the water’s edge, his cock bouncing against his leg with every step? It was practically waving at you. 

“Hmmm, just making things even Miller. Pretty sure you stared at my tits for a full five minutes the first time we went,” you purred. 

“I’m just a man darling. Y’cant expect me to look away when I’ve got such a pretty little thing buck naked in front of me, not even trying to pick up her damn towel,” he shot back huskily. 

You didn’t answer, just let out a hum as your eyes pulled away from his crotch to take in Joel in his entirety. He looked like a painting of some sort, gloriously naked and surrounded by nothing but vibrant foliage, the sun beaming down on him in a way that made his skin glow. Although you had never been one for photography, you suddenly wished that you had a camera so that you could capture him in that moment - if anything just to show him how beautiful he was. 

“I can’t believe you’ve got me doing this shit. Too old to be skinny dipping,” he grumbled half heartedly, rubbing at the stubble along his jaw. 

“Oh come on, don’t be such a pussy Joel. Jump!,” you hollered, kicking your feet until water splashed the lower half of him. 

A pinched groan came from Joel, along with a downright theatrical eye roll, but it worked. He leapt forward, crashing into the water and sending a massive wave your way.  A wall of water slammed into your face, nearly pulling you under from the sheer force of it, but you just barely managed to keep your head up. That is, until a hand gripped your calf and dragged you under. 

A startled scream was lost under the surface, along with a half assed punch at the assailant who had already released you and swam away. You tried to go after him but the water slowed you down, forcing you to come up for air so that you didn’t drown. 

“What the hell? You scared the shit out of me, you asshole,” you cried out as you reached the surface, faltering when you caught his playful grin. 

“Aw sweet girl, did I scare ya?,” Joel cooed, drifting closer towards you so he could stand. 

You rolled your eyes, “Shut up.”

Joel laughed and so did you, eyes locked as you both floated closer together. He was like a magnet, drawing you in with his big brown eyes and the way they kept flicking down to your lips. The fact that he was naked was of little concern to you. All you could focus on was the shiver that went up your spine as he stepped further into your space. 

“C’mere,” Joel mumbled, beckoning you closer with an outstretched hand. 

There was no hesitation when you took it, just a happy little sigh as he held you up, allowing you to relax and stop treading water. Joel guided your hands to rest on his shoulders, allowing you to use him like a buoy as his frame held strong against the gentle current. He dropped his hands back into the water once you were secure, the only point of contact being you clutching his shoulders, although you could sense his restraint getting shakier by the second. All he needed was a push. 

Joel’s nostrils flared as you wrapped your legs around his waist, greedily anchoring yourself to the front of him. His cock pressed into your weeping slit and you gasped, feeling every inch of him against you. He grunted, twitching to life between your thighs as he tried to still your swaying hips. 

“Shit, I don’t think ya wanna do that darling. Ha - fuck - you’re gonna make me- ,” he cussed, gritting his teeth so hard that you felt the muscles jump under your palms as you cupped his face. 

“I think that it’s exactly what I wanna do cowboy,” you whispered, leaning in so you could press a line of kisses up the side of his neck, “Unless you want to make a move for once. So far, it’s just been me.”

It was like you had triggered an activation code in a sleeper agent. Joel’s entire demeanor shifted, the grip on your hips getting tighter as he dug his fingers into the fat. A tiny heartbeat warmed the space between your legs, forcing you to worry the skin along the underside of his jaw a bit harder to keep from moaning out loud. He hissed as your teeth dug into his skin, one of his hands coming up to dig into your hair and yank you backwards. You blinked at him, the feeling of his skin against yours making you dizzy. 

“Pretty girl,” Joel cooed.  

The way he brushed his nose against yours, his lips inches from yours, cracked your rib cage wide open. Your heart was bare, throbbing in the open air alongside your desperate cunt. With all higher thinking turned off, you leaned even closer, trying to chase Joel’s lips as they eluded you. 

“M’gonna kiss ya now baby, s’that alright?,” he breathed, his eyes never once leaving yours. 

A shaky nod was the best you could do as your entire being thrummed with desire, every piece of you begging for him to do something, anything that might help with the fire raging deep inside of your belly. 

Joel chuckled, “Words darling, need to hear ya say it.” 

“Kiss me Joel,” you sighed, eyes already fluttering to a close as he leaned in. 

The second your eyes closed, Joel’s lips were on yours, soft and sweet despite the urgency you knew was hiding underneath. A strangled groan rumbled in his chest as you tugged on his hair, his hips jumping up into yours. He was gentle at first, almost like he was testing the waters before he allowed himself to let go, but you wouldn’t have it. A shudder went through him as you nipped at his bottom lip, silently asking for entry that he happily accepted. The second that you first tasted each other, the pace quickened, with both of your tongues battling it out for dominance as hands began to wander over exposed flesh. His free hand left your hair, running down the side of your neck, across your clavicle, before drifting down to cup one of your breasts. 

“Joel,” you gasped, breaking away as his thumb played with your hardened nipple. 

“So sensitive,” he murmured against your neck, brushing his lips down the side of it before he found the perfect spot to bite down on. 

The sting forced a broken and desperate wail from you, making Joel’s cock jump as you wiggled against him. He grunted as you squirmed, your movements causing him to slide between your folds just right. The underside of his dick pushed through the wetness there, gliding up until the tip nudged your clit. Another pathetic sound spilled from your lips, breaking through the last bit of his patience one and for all. His hands traveled down and gripped your asscheeks, starting a filthy grind that had you keening into his ear in seconds. 

“O-oh my fuck, yes,” you whimpered, mind spinning as his stubble chafed the raw skin along the side of your neck and his tip teased your throbbing clit. 

“Yeah? Is that the spot baby? Fuck, I can feel her trying to suck me in shi-it,” Joel groaned as he ground his hips into yours ever harder, making sure that the tip of his cock passed over your drenched entrance with every stroke.  

“Please, please, please,” you begged, desperate tears forming in the corners of your eyes. 

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t ya honey?,” he drawled, his words turning you into putty. 

The devilish grin Joel gave you had the tears spilling over instantly, yet another shamelessly obscene noise echoing throughout the trees in lieu of a response. The grip on your ass tightened, the sting only adding to the pleasure building in your gut. You hoped that his fingers would leave thick bruises for you to admire later, proof that you hadn’t dreamt the steamy encounter. But before you could dwell on that for too long, a particularly brutal bite to your breast made you cry out, his tongue running over the indents in a way that made you buck in his hold. 

“Asked ya a question baby,” Joel reminded you, his tongue laving over the angry indents that his teeth had left behind. 

“Yes!,” you practically shouted, eyes rolling in their sockets as his cock continued to rub against your swollen clit, “Needy - mmmmm, fuck - I need it, need you.” 

He chuckled darkly, all of the usual kindness in his eyes gone as he murmured, “I know you are sweetheart, but I wanna see you cum just like this. Such a good girl grinding up against me like this, so damn perfect f’me baby. C’mon, work for my cock.” 

Your jaw dropped, a shock running through your body in response to his words. Joel was always so soft and sweet with you, a gentle giant that looked after you at every turn. And yet, the filth that came out of him was like nothing you had ever heard. Whimpering his name, you tore at the curls around the base of his neck, crying out as you tried your best to match his teasing thrusts. 

Joel grunted when you smashed your lips against his, trying to muffle some of the lewd praises he was drawing out of you. The kiss was nothing more than a mix of tongues and teeth as the fire in your belly burned brighter and brighter, your pussy oozing slick that only added to his shameless grinding. A strangled cry was swallowed by Joel as he picked up the pace, beginning to rut against you like an animal. He was so close to the place you really wanted him. One little slip and he would be pushing inside, forcing you to stretch around him so that he could bottom out all in one go. 

The rest of the world fell away, all you could focus on was Joel’s cock in between your folds. You wanted him to slip inside, to numb your mind with his girthy cock, to slam into you like a madman until you started speaking in tongues, but he had other ideas. Instead of tearing you apart like you wanted, he continued to tease, building the both of you up without ever once pressing into your entrance. What made it worse was that you knew he wanted to, you felt it in the way his cock jumped with every glide, angrily begging him to let go of all his reservations and fuck the shit out of you. But for whatever reason, he wouldn’t take that final step. 

“C-Cock, I want, I need - shit - Need your cock please! F-Fuck, please fuck me Joel. I need it, need you inside,” you stammered as you pulled away from the kiss. 

Joel’s hand reached up to grasp the hands at the base of your skull, wrenching your head back so hard that you hissed. He smiled as he felt you wiggle against him, pussy throbbing from the sting. 

“You’ve already got it baby,” he pointed out, brows pinching together as you whined at him in response. 

“No, no, no, no,” you sobbed, all higher thinking gone in the wind, “Inside pleeeease, f-fuck.” 

Joel’s hand wrenched your head even further backwards, drawing a heartbreaking wail from you. The blurriness in your eyes dissipated as you blinked away tears and suddenly, he was all you could see. He looked absolutely wrecked with the highs of his cheekbones reddened, his lips swollen, and his eyes heavy on yours. 

“Listen to me,” Joel commanded, his clipped tone breaking through the fog in your brain instantly, “I ain’t gonna fuck ya out in the woods like you’re some kind of hook up. You deserve better than that baby, do you understand me?” 

Fresh tears dotted your waterline but you blinked them away, needing to see the awe inspiring devotion that was embedded in every inch of Joel’s face. All of the air in your lungs wooshed out of you, the excited little flip that your tummy gave only adding to the urgency building up inside of you. His nose bumped against yours again, the gentle kiss he gave you in sharp contrast to the depraved way his hips rutted against yours underneath the surface of the water. 

“Do. You. Under. Stand. Me?,” he grunted, driving his point home with five mind breaking strokes. 

“Y-Yes Joel,” you whimpered, quick to answer so that you didn’t get another set of teeth marks dug into your other breast, “I-I understand - fuck, please just let me cum. I wanna cum baby, please. I can’t - shit!” 

“Good fucking girl, of course you can cum. Want to feel her gush baby,” he ordered, a shit eating grin on his face as leaned in and sank his teeth into the sensitive patch of skin beneath your jaw. 

A garbled shout broke free, echoing in the open air and undoubtedly scaring off any birds within a thirty mile radius. The pain of the bite sent sparks of pain/pleasure dancing down your spine, igniting the powder keg that had you shaking against him as the pressure in your abdomen exploded. One particularly sharp thrust and you were flying, crying out for Joel as your pussy clenched around nothing. He groaned but kept up his pace, pistoning away as you lost your vision and dissolved into a puddle of pleasure induced tears. 

“That’s it, such a good girl for me, so pretty and sweet. Aw, that poor pussy needed that didn’t she? I bet she’s been crying for me,” Joel cooed, starting to pant as his own release neared. 

His cock twitched hard, knocking him off of his rhythm for a few strokes as he continued to wring as much pleasure from your still spasming core as he could. He was struggling to hold on, selflessly keeping his own release at bay to see yours through, but you were too greedy to wait. Before the last bit of your orgasm had petered off you were gripping his hair again, tilting his head so that you could tease him with a line of open mouthed kisses and sharp nips to his neck. Joel wheezed, muttering angry sounding compliments under his breath as he got even closer.  

“Mmmm, want you to cum Joel,” you whined, leaving him another love bite that would undoubtedly bruise, “Please? I’ve been so good for you and I wanna feel it. Don’t you want to cum for me baby?”

He groaned, “God fucking dammit baby, yes. M’gonna give it to ya, take it, take it, take it - fuuuuck.” 

Joel let out a muffled groan that sounded vaguely like your name as he exploded, his cum warming your folds momentarily before it was washed away beneath the water. He kept going for as long as he could, prolonging both of your releases until it became too much for him. When his hips finally slowed to a halt , you sighed, reveling in the feeling of his warm breath washing over your face. As you came down from your high, Joel’s lips found every angry bruise he had left on your neck and chest, brushing over them with a quiet reverence that was hard to pass off as casual. The attention to the marks he had made was gentle, with each kiss like a wordless thanks and a promise of more to come. 

You let out a contented sigh, wrapping your arms around Joel’s neck and burrowing your face into the crook of his neck so that you could breathe him in. It wasn’t fair how good he always smelled, so clean and spicy, with just a hint of something natural that was all him. It was enough to make you dizzy. You were so entirely addicted to Joel that the feeling of him readjusting his hold on you made you whimper and wrap yourself around him like a python, terrified that he might let go. He had peeled back the steel wall you had built up around yourself, leaving you much too vulnerable to be left alone anytime soon. 

“Shhh, none of that honey. I’m just getting ya out of the water before you freeze to death. Relax, I ain’t gonna ya let go,” he assured you, his mustache tickling the shell of your ear as he started towards the shore. 

“M’too heavy,” you mumbled sleepily.   

Not that your protest mattered. With how hard you had just came, your legs were pretty much just for show. You didn’t even want to think of how pathetic any attempt at walking would be. 

Joel snorted, “And yet here I am, carrying ya just fine baby. Just let me take care of ya for a sec, then you can go back to being tough m’kay?” 

“Fine,” you sighed, much too tired to argue with him. 

All of the fight in you had drifted away, soothed by the feeling of Joel’s cock sliding against you until you burst. With a full belly, a temporarily satisfied pussy, and only a few hours of sleep under your belt, you slumped into him, sighing as your body relaxed fully for the first time in weeks. He let you do it, pressing a small kiss to the side of your head as you allowed his rhythmic movements to lull you into a state somewhere between awake and asleep. You barely noticed when he pulled you both from the water, only coming to when a smattering of kisses was suddenly being laid all over your face. 

“Mmm?,” you hummed, blinking up at him with a lazy smile on your face. 

The blanket was beneath you, the soft fabric protecting you from the dry dirt below. Joel’s body was draped over yours, the warmth of it scaring away the chill that threatened to take hold with each gust of wind. You clung to him, caressing his toned arms before smoothing them down the contours of his back. His muscles flexed underneath your palms, tensing and untensing as he dropped down onto his elbows to get a little closer. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he mused, eyes bright as he cupped the side of your face. 

You nuzzled his palm, pressing a kiss to it that softened all of Joel’s features. He melted under the simple action, his brows pinched together as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. It was different from the kisses the two of you had shared just moments before, more tender and affectionate, but no less incredible. There was no urgency to it anymore, just the tender need to explore each other as the afternoon began to fade into evening. At one point Joel tried to pull away to say something but you swiftly drew him back in, smiling into it like a lovestruck teen. Nevertheless, it was you that eventually pulled away, utterly heartbroken that you had to take time to breathe. 

“Joel,” you sighed.

What you felt was big, but you were unsure how to articulate it without scaring him away. 

“I know darling, I know,” Joel answered quietly as his big hands worshiped every inch of bare skin exposed. 

The air between the two of you was electric, forcing you together like magnets. His weight overtop of you was heavy but you didn’t mind. It grounded you, he grounded you in a way that nobody ever had. Joel didn’t push you to be anything except yourself, nor did he hold back his own yearning for the sake of some sort of tough guy act. Why would he? He wasn’t insecure in his masculinity, his strength was clear in everything he did, along with his kindness. 

The two of you stayed like that for some time, melded together as the dampness on your bodies slowly evaporated. You wanted to remain in the woods with Joel forever, using him like a weighted blanket as his lips continued to map out every inch of your skin. Nevertheless, as the sun began to tease the tops of the trees, signaling its intentions to set for the night, it became painstakingly clear that your time with him was running out. 

Joel helped you up when it was time to go, handing you the rumpled dress with a sheepish look on his face. You rolled your eyes and took it from him, amused at how easily it was to make him squirm. Not that you were any different, as you soon found yourself sneaking peeks while he pulled his own clothes back on. He moved to pack up the bag after that, making sure to take all the garbage before closing it up, but you had bigger fish to fry. 

The panties you had worn were gone, the red fabric seemingly nowhere to be found despite the fact that you knew exactly where you had dropped them. You surveyed the area, looking in the bushes, in the reeds, in the hibiscus plants that grew near the edge of the swimming hole, but nothing came of it. With a frustrated sigh, you threw your hands up in the air and cursed, convinced that they had somehow been blown into the rushing waters. 

“What’s wrong baby?,” Joel called out, slinging the bag over his shoulder as you turned towards him. 

“I can’t find my stupid panties anywhere,” you sighed. 

“Oh um,” he blushed, reaching into his back pocket to produce the tiny red panties you had worn with him in mind, “Here ya go, sorry ‘bout that.” 

You balked, eyes bulging from their sockets as you saw Joel’s hand holding out the dainty fabric. There was only one reason he would have taken them for and the thought of it made you weak, especially when you remembered that you already had a pair left hanging to dry in his bathroom from the night before. You imagined him sprawled out on his bed after you left, lazily tugging on his cock with one hand while the other shoved your used panties into his face. It was an absolutely depraved thought and you were suddenly compelled to make it a reality. 

“No, keep them for now. Just give me my other pair back so I can wash them. That way you can get them all nice and dirty for me again,” you replied, leaving him with a wink before slinking towards the trail. 

“Gonna give me a damn heart attack baby,” you heard him say under his breath, followed by a curse and a set of heavy footsteps stumbling after you. 

Joel caught up to you easily, remaining close so that he could try to hold back as many branches as he could. The walk back was easier than the way in, with the two of you maneuvering around the overgrown parts with more ease than before. It was crazy how much one orgasm could change things, as the two of you practically floated back to the truck with sluggish limbs and happy smiles. He kissed you again after he helped you into the truck, leaving you breathless before he carefully shut the passenger’s side door and raced over to the driver’s seat. 

The second Joel was in the truck, you slid across the bench again, greedily melding yourself against his side. He lifted his arm, a blissed out look on his face as he nuzzled the top of your head and veered back onto the dirt road. With the dying sun in the rearview mirror, along with a sappy old love song crackling through the ancient radio, you felt balanced. As you listened to Joel mumble along, you closed your eyes, allowing his soft voice to lead you into a dreamless sleep. 

- Joel -

Joel wasn’t sure what to do. There you were, curled into his side like a kitten as you slept and yet, he knew that couldn’t stay parked in your driveway all night. He had work the next morning and so did you, plus he had two kids that he had to make sure were safe in their beds for the night. But how could Joel wake you? How could he watch you walk into your own home, leaving him behind on the porch as you had the previous night? He couldn’t but he had to, so he sighed and softly shook your shoulders. 

“Time to wake up sweetheart, we’re home,” he said softly, chuckling at the noise of protest you let out as you roused. 

The way you looked up at him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with a cute little frown on your face, would have knocked Joel over if he had been standing. An indecent proposal was on the tip of his lips, threatening to tumble out and ruin everything, but he kept it in. Just because you had been gracious enough to let him see and touch you, like a goddess granting her humble servant a glimpse at her divine nature for pleasing her, didn’t mean that you wanted him dragging you into his bed. He needed to be realistic, it was a Sunday and you were likely just as exhausted as him. 

“Mmm, I don’t want you to go,” you mumbled, voice muffled as you squeezed him tight. 

Joel chuckled, “And I don’t wanna leave ya honey, but we’ve both got work in the morning.” 

A petulant sight came from you as you sat up, regarding him with a wary eyes. 

“So why don’t you stay?,” you proposed. 

He blinked, surprised that it had been you and not him that had broken first. 

“Well I uh -” 

“Shit, forget it. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot Joel, I just haven’t been sleeping well lately and I thought that maybe if you - mmfph.” 

Joel cut you off, crashing his mouth into yours to halt your nervous babbling. Of course he wanted to stay the night with you. The thought of wrapping himself around you, of gluing himself to you as you both dreamt, was too good to pass up but he had other responsibilities. However, that didn’t mean that a compromise couldn’t be made. He pulled away once he felt you relax a bit, chuckling as your lips tried to chase his. 

“Stay at my house tonight instead,” Joel said, the question more of a statement than anything else. 

You scoffed, “What’s wrong with mine?” 

“Nothing baby, but I’ve gotta make sure the girls are in. They’re pretty self sufficient these days but they’re still kids, can’t just let ‘em roam the streets ya know?,” he joked. 

Although the sneaking out hadn’t started yet, with how often Ellie disappeared to go hang out with her girlfriend, or how social Sarah was, Joel knew that the day was coming. It was a natural phenomenon, something every kid did when they were learning to stand apart from their parents but until that day, he would continue with the nightly bed checks he had been doing since they were babies. 

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude if you’ve gotta get them ready for bed or something,” you said. 

“Honey, they’re both fourteen years old. I’m pretty sure they can figure out how to tuck themselves in these days, I just gotta make sure they’re home safe. I won’t um,” Joel stopped, cheeks turning blotchy and red as he added, “I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t check on ‘em.” 

“Joel Miller, the big softie,” you teased affectionately, nodding at him as you fumbled for the door, “C’mon then handsome, take me home. I’m fucking exhausted.” 

Joel smiled and hopped out of the truck, deciding to leave the rest of the picnic stuff in the truck for the night. He helped you out, grabbing your hand as he led you towards the door. Too excited to take the length of his legs into account, Joel dragged you across the street, pulse quickening as he caught the dopey look on your face as you stumbled along. He ushered you into the house, thankful that the girls were nowhere to be seen so far. The last thing he needed was for them to point out all of the hickeys he had mindlessly left over your neck and chest, or the ones you had so kindly bestowed upon him. 

“I feel like we’re teens sneaking in after curfew,” you whispered as the two of you quietly climbed the stairs, careful not to wake the girls. 

“Better be quiet then, wouldn’t want ya to get grounded,” Joel teased, chuckling at your muted groan over his corny joke. 

“Ridiculous,” you mumbled, though you never once moved to let go of his hand. 

Somehow Joel managed to get you into his room without alerting either of his nosy teens, which he thanked every single higher being for. After shutting the door, he led you to the bathroom first, giving you a spare toothbrush and a quick kiss on the cheek before he left to get you something comfy to wear for bed. He settled on one of his softer T-shirts and a pair of boxers he had gotten as a gag gift, the flaming on the hearts on them much too bold for him to ever wear himself. 

Joel left the change of clothes on the bed, his steps lively as he slipped back out into the hall. He checked on Sarah first, knowing that she was the most likely of the two to be asleep before eleven p.m. A curled up ball stuck out from under her sheets, with nothing but her silk bonnet peeking out as she mumbled in her sleep. He smiled, carefully easing her door shut before he tiptoed down the hall to check on his other daughter. 

The television in Ellie’s room was still on, playing one of the many science fiction series she was addicted to at a volume that was, quite frankly, disturbing. Meanwhile the kid herself was gone to the world, conked out with her face buried into her pillow. Joel chuckled and eased himself into the room, finding her remote so that he could shut off the horrendous alien induced violence that Ellie was so blissfully snoozing to. He left the remote on top of her television, giving her one last look before he shut the door and ventured down the hall. 

With both the girls accounted for, Joel’s thoughts shifted back to you. His heart fluttered as he headed towards his room, a giddiness taking hold that shocked him. You made him so delightfully stupid, so blindly enraptured that he was surprised the two of you had gotten anything done that day at all. Still, nothing could have prepared him with the sight of you when Joel walked in. You were wearing his shirt, laying in his bed as you turned over to greet him with a sleepy smile. He almost fell to his knees. 

“Took ya long enough,” you croaked, eyelids already fluttering as you graciously fought against sleep for him. 

“M’sorry honey, I just -”

“Shhh, nothing to be sorry for. Just come to bed baby, I miss you,” you yawned, gesturing to the empty space beside you. 

Joel swallowed hard, the term of endearment not lost on him as he allowed himself to be pulled in by something inside of him that screamed at him to make you his. Baby. You had called him baby again. If that wasn’t enough to get him to join you, nothing was. He ditched his shirt and pants without another word, sliding into the cool sheets with a small groan as all of the strain of the day melted away. 

Joel didn’t waste any time after he slipped into the sheets and scooched over to your side, pressing himself into you. You reached back after a moment, grabbing his arm so you could wrap it around yourself. He grinned and snuggled a bit closer, allowing himself to hold you in his arms like he wanted to, like you were already his. 

“Good night Joel,” you mumbled, pressing a sweet kiss on his arm before you laid your head back against the pillow. 

“G’night darling, sleep well,” he sighed, answering your kiss with a peck on the shoulder. 

Not that you heard him, you were already fast asleep before Joel had even finished talking. He smiled, sighing as he trapped you against him. It had been some time since he had a woman sleep in his bed. Most of his hook ups since the girls were born had been quick and dirty meetups outside of the home, each of them leaving the other side of his bed cold for yet another night, but you were different. 

If Joel had it his way, you would be a permanent fixture in his bedroom, sharing warmth and synchronizing your breaths to his as the night passed. He imagined what the mornings might be like; if you would be an early riser like him or if he would have to come find you after his morning coffee. Would you giggle as he laid sweet kisses all over your face, greeting him with one of the most precious smiles he had ever seen? Or would you groan and bury your head under the pillow, grumbling curses until he brought your attention to the ridiculously sugary coffee he had placed on your bedside table? Your bedside table.  

Joel groaned, trying not to get ahead of himself despite the excitement that threatened to take hold of the more rational parts of his mind, but it was nearly impossible. He had been alone, in one way another, for the past thirty four years. Of course he had his girls, he had Tommy, but it wasn’t the same. With them he had to be strong - a father, an older brother - someone who they could depend on to carry all of their burdens. They couldn’t fill that secret part of him that longed to be soft, to be broken from time to time without judgement, to hold and be held like he was the fragile one when he needed it. 

With you, Joel saw the first opportunity for someone to actually know him in that way. Which was why as the night went on, he found himself wide awake, too excited to let himself fall into the peaceful sleep he ached to join you in. Nevertheless as he watched the sun begin to peak through the trees in the backyard, signaling the new day to come, he allowed himself to truly enjoy the last few seconds before the alarm clock would go off, already dreading the thought of letting you go. 

[livwritesstuff]

heyo! loving the steddie dads. was wondering if either of them suffer from nightmares or ptsd after everything they've been through? and how they might deal with that on a day-to-day/anniversary basis.

Hi friend -- took some time on this one because this is a Topic for me.

Short answer – yes, 100%. I don’t think any person on the planet could experience that kind of thing and not come out of it with some serious issues to work through. 

Longer answer, and not to abuse my psych degree, but it’s really tough to say how they would be affected 10, 20, 30, etc. years down the line because PTSD and trauma are both so unbelievably complex – for many reasons, but in part because PTSD can do two things (sort of) simultaneously.

Wane over time

Completely and permanently alter the “wires” (neural pathways) in your brain

I think that there’s sometimes this perception in the ST fandom that every character in the show who experienced a trauma would have PTSD by default, but that might not necessarily be true. Stats actually show that the majority of people who experience trauma in some capacity will in fact not display PTSD symptoms. I think Mike and Dustin at the onset of season 2 are a fantastic example of how two people can go through the same events together and come out of it affected very differently.

(Sidebar: I think Stranger Things has a fantastic opportunity to show how varied the effects of trauma can be. Granted, I don’t think that’s the story they’re telling, but they totally could.)

Experiencing a traumatic event is not necessarily a one-way ticket to PTSD symptoms and/or a PTSD diagnosis – to be clear, this doesn’t mean that there are not lasting negative effects from that traumatic event, but it is still distinctly different from PTSD (in its official definition) – and right now it’s not clear why this is the case. 

I have individual thoughts about each character as it relates to what they specifically experience and how I think they would be affected by it long and short-term, HOWEVER I also recognize that I haven’t answered your actual question, so I digress.

Rather than dive into whether or not I think Steve and/or Eddie have PTSD, we’re just gonna call it capital-T Trauma and move along. You’re welcome.

Anyways, by the time Steve and Eddie (as they exist in this ‘verse) are in their fifties, I doubt that any residual effects of their Trauma would still be anywhere near debilitating. Generally speaking, they can go about their day-to-day lives without thinking about what they went through all that much.

I do think that those effects may temporarily worsen around anniversaries, but even that really isn’t all that noticeable by the time they hit the 2020s.

They’ll still occasionally have nightmares and I don’t think Steve ever fully lets himself believe that it’s truly done in a way that Eddie doesn’t relate to because he never had to experience what it’s like for it all to come back.

(Small potatoes, but I also don’t think Steve could ever own a dog no matter how much his daughters campaigned for a puppy when they were in elementary school).

I think the Trauma that Steve experienced shows itself in his adulthood when it comes down to raising kids. 

I’ve talked before about how Steve has a moment when Moe turns ten where it kind of clicks for the first time just how young Erica had been when he allowed her to get caught up in everything. He hadn’t been able to see it until he was a fully-fledged adult raising a ten-year-old, but he gets really hung up on it, and then he spends the next few years being like – Moe’s eleven, that’s how old Eleven was when she broke out of the lab; she’s twelve, that’s how old Will was when he got stuck in the Upside Down; she’s thirteen, that’s how old Dustin was when he almost got eaten by demobats in those tunnels. 

Then the girls start hitting their high school years and Steve starts realizing – oh, it wasn’t just the younger ones. I was also a kid still and put in a really fucked up position. It’s the thing that makes him truly see how few adults he had in his corner.

Eddie has a similar moment when Moe graduates high school and he realizes that his oldest daughter is as old as Chrissy ever got to be.

That being said I also don’t think Eddie gets as torn up over Chrissy as the popular opinion suggests but i’m a little afraid to voice that one lol

I definitely think Eddie and Steve never let themselves forget how Max, Chrissy, Patrick, etc. were vulnerable to Vecna’s curse because of a very specific circumstance – they were grappling with something internally that they didn’t feel they had the resources or people they trusted enough to address outwardly. Sure, they know that their kids aren’t at risk of being possessed and murdered by an evil monster, but the notion of bad things happening when people don’t have the support that they need is a very real phenomenon with very real consequences. By no means was that exclusive to Hawkins and it certainly didn’t go away with the Upside Down. 

I think that this becomes the crux of Steve and Eddie’s mentality behind parenthood – to make sure that their kids never feel like they can’t go to their dads for support, to never allow their children to be in a position where they have to suffer in silence. That, to me, is absolutely rooted in the parts of their Trauma that re-wired their brains irreparably.

Anyhooooo this is really just the tip of the iceberg imo but this is long enough already lol (but if anyone wants to hear more about the Stranger Things-Trauma paradigm, let me know because I could probably talk about it for hours).

[stefanmikaleson1864]

Doughnuts ?

A/N: I hope you all love this as much as I love Colt ! P.S. don't ask me how many times i watched this movie its distrubing

Colt Seavers X Reader

Working on a movie set had a been dream of yours for as long as you can remeber. The magic of seeing the big lights and the movie stars.

You always loved working on projects from the time you can remember.

Writting and directing and seeing your own magic come to life was always a dream come true.

Most people told you to dream releastic and stick something that would be more achievable.

But you didn't listen sitting at home doing a boring 9-5 was the not the life you wanted for yourself.

You went to film school out in LA and it was the most you ever felt alive. You finally felt like you belonged here.

When you graduated you thought you were going to immediately jump into work. I mean you were the next big thing right? Well that dream came crashing down. Reality set in and bills needed to be paid.

So when the oppurtinity came up for you to work as a camera operator for a movie you took it right away

. I mean you were going to be still working on the magic right ?

A couple of months in and you were finding your groove everyone on set was incredibly kind and welcoming.

There was one particular guy who was nice to you.

Colt Seavers was a incredible stunt man. Can we just also say for the love of god how incredibly hot he was.

I mean how was he not a movie star himself.

God took a little extra time with him. But the nice thing about him though was he didn't have a ego to match. To your surprise was he kind and nice and funny.

One day you were sitting eating lunch alone and he came and sat down next to you.

"Someone as beautiful as you shouldn't be eating alone" Colt said as he thew about 3 plates of food down.

"You really gonna eat all that" You said laughing

"Hey your brain needs carbs to live how else can i be set on fire without nothing on my stomach" Colt said laughing

Like what ever he said made sense. The two of you just sat and talked in for a while and he made you feel like you knew him forever.

He was funny like he was honesly geniunely hilarious.

The two of you talked about dream vacations and how being set on fire was nothing compared to when they stopped making his favoriate brand of coffee beans.

When lunch was over he asked for your number. He said he wanted to be a gentleman and drive you home because it was dangerous out there.

The work day seemed like it was never ending after that. The annoying ass director just wanted another take after another one.

You were about to just sit the camera down in protest and leave but thank god this was the last scene.

You didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone. You just put your stuff away and grabbed your things.

You were sitting in the parking lot next to your car.

A few minutes had passed and you were worried you got stood up. You were about to get back into your car so you didn't look like an idiot.

Just as you were pulling out your keys. A huge truck blaring Taylor Swift pulled up next to you.

"You didn't think I forgot did you" Colt said smiling.

You smiled back and hoped into the truck

"A man with taste" You said

He pulled away and the windows were down and the music was blaring. He drove to an empty parking lot down the street and you gave him a confused look.

"Doughnuts" He asked

"I love Jelly" You said making him laugh loud

"A breakfast date when were done I love it" Colt said

"I know a good spot" You said.

Colt postioned the car and then looked over at you with a smirk and then took off fast.

It caught your breath fast and you felt your heart dropping into its stomach. Colt stretched out his arm and nodged you over closer to him.

It really did make you forget about your troubles. Like everything else didn't matter in this moment. You felt like when you were on a rollcoaster and you reached the top.

then when you shot done that rush of adrenline was amazing.

You could do this all night with him.

"Same time again tomorrow" Colt said

"It's a date after real doughnuts" You said

"Carbs make everything better" Colt said

You leaned in and laid your head on his shoulder and he smiled down at you. The real magic wasn't on the movie set it was right here with the two of you

[doomedpuppetyuri]

hey chat welcome to "gaige rambles about a goldfish for a probably obscene amount of time" ok so ive been like. really depressed lately. and since im a loser who doesn't have an irl social life within a 3 hour drive im instead going to remedy that by yapping to you all about sally seashore. mutuals you guys encouraged this so you're welcome so for about 5 months now sally motherfucking seashore has had me in a chokehold. i thought this fixation was just my brain's way of coping with there being no november issue of the radical left. but seeing as that was 5 months ago that is. evidently not the case "so gaige what the fuck is your deal with this canonically 60+ year old fish woman" WELL. basically i took one look at her introduction, hyperfocused on the use of the word "schadenfreude" and immediately clocked her as the second blonde puppet woman future skeletons was gonna put through some fuckshit. and then i was absolutely right and ive been clinging onto that "i-told-you-so" high since then. so this is going to be just about everything i find interesting about sally seashore. this is extremely self-indulgent but yknow what i deserve a little treat OK FIRST THING GURGLE AND SALLY HAVE SO MANY CHARACTER PARALLELS GUYS PLEASE HEAR ME OUT ON THIS like theyre 2 sides of the same coin. they were both actresses who were repeatedly put in the role of Living Punching Bag so their struggles could be laughed at by an audience who, at the time, deemed it acceptable. We see this more explicitly with Gurgle and her addiction, but i think Sally's intro implies more than enough. They experienced similar treatment during their time onstage, but their outcomes were so different. Gurgle is able to get some form of closure for what she's been through in the volume 1 finale, calling out Fawkes's attempts at using her and her addiction to fearmonger, and as of volume 2 has been recovering from her addiction quite successfully. Sally, on the other hand, never got any justice for what she endured. She was just carted off and locked away, still taking all of the fire and having to pay her tormentors' price. It makes perfect sense that she'd be so aligned with Herbert. She wants payback for what she's been through. side note but I want her and Gurgle to interact so badly,,,,I feel like there are so many possible directions that could be taken with that. What would Sally feel towards her? Jealousy? Sympathy? I'd love to see that explored in canon,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,character focused spinoffs when but uh this dm of mine works pretty well as a tldr i think /silly

SECOND THING THE SYMBOLISM Ok so like. Sally as a character is just full of symbolism. For starters, her design. She's definitely coded as a physically disabled character, with the species choice of a fish limiting her mobility and causing her to need help moving long distances until she receives an aid(her mechanical limbs), and to make her a goldfish in particular, a fish that so commonly suffers at the hands of its caretakers due to ignorance(goldfish aren't even supposed to be kept in bowls, and i feel like the choice of having her in one could very well further play into the metaphor of her not having proper accommodations pre-issues 3 and 4) adds another layer to the symbolism. There's also the problem attic as a whole, and how every inmate critiques a different aspect of normalized behavior in a bygone era of cinema. I think there being a lot of Looney Tunes-esque undertones was absolutely intentional(Sticky LePrick's name probably being a play on Pepe Le Pew, most of them being animal puppets as opposed to the Sesame Street styled monsters that make up most of the main cast, one of Sally's lines possibly being a reference to Sylvester the cat, you get the idea im rambling i need to close these parentheses) as older Looney Tunes cartoons were full of mean-spirited "humor" that would've received far more initial backlash if released today. So yeah I definitely think that switching to more distinctly Looney Tunes inspiration as opposed to the Sesame Street/The Muppet Show inspiration found in (most of)the rest of the cast was a detail that worked very well for the point they were trying to make with these guys Another little thing I like about Sally is that there seems to be a shift in her demeanor from her first appearance to her appearance in the finale. When she's first introduced in the attic, she comes across to me as somebody who's sort of resigned themself to what they believe to be their fate, understandably a bit depressed. However, when she reappears in the finale, she's a lot more outspoken. It's a subtle change that makes a lot of sense, considering that in the finale she's finally been granted physical autonomy. She has the chance to fight back, and she's taking it. It makes perfect sense for her to not want to listen to Hippy and Mr. Burton, she says herself that experiencing the power that she is is a first for her. also wasnt sure where to put this but im like 99.999% sure she was named after that one tongue twister so. insert that "the more you know" gif here I also just think she's a fun character. I love her design, her color palette is really pleasing to look at as someone who loves green and yellow/yellow and blue paired together, and i also like that she's the only one of the attic inmates who swears. Also her being an actress for 60 years gave me some more evidence for my "i dont know how puppets here age but it is NOT the same way humans do" theory so love that for me. but overall JIM JAMES PLEASE PUT HER IN THE NEXT VOLUME I DONT CARE HOW JUST PUT HER IN A PANEL AT LEAST PLEASE 🙏🙏💔💔 FREE MY GIRL

alrighty that concludes this edition of "gaige rambles about a goldfish for a probably obscene amount of time". if you are still reading this i love you and if you want my soul or smth just hmu because ill give it to you /silly