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kentobb · 4 months

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The Promise

Character: Ushijima Wakatoshi x F!Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, cursing, slight comfort on the end.

It has been a rough month and Ushijima knows it. He has been overworking himself, pushing his limits at each practice. His typically calm and composed face is now etched with stress and strain. His temperament, once steady as a rock, is now volatile and erratic, akin to a stormy sea. The month had been grueling, a relentless onslaught of training sessions and personal workouts. His body is aching, his mind is strained, and his spirit is beginning to waver.

Today, he returns to his apartment later than usual, bone-tired, his muscles screaming in protest, only to be greeted by your sight, his sweet and loving girlfriend. Your smile always warm, eyes filled with concern, having dinner ready, a hot bath drawn, and comforting words falling from your lips.

He should feel guilty for his recent behavior, matter of fact he should apologize. He was not a man prone to emotional outbursts or thoughtless actions, and yet, he had allowed his stress to control him, to turn him into someone he hardly recognized these days.

He had ignored you, brushed off your attempts at conversations, and retreated into himself. He had been mean, cold, distant. He had forgotten your presence, forgotten the warmth you brought into his life, forgotten the love that had once made his heart flutter.

And tonight was no different, the weight of the day pressing heavily on his shoulders, his mind foggy and his spirit was weary. As he kicked off his shoes and hung his jacket on the hook, the tantalizing aroma of dinner wafted through the apartment. He followed the scent into the kitchen, his eyes landing on the sight of you, sitting at the kitchen table, a spread of dishes laid out in front of you.

You looked up the entrance and your face lights up with a smile that reaches your eyes. A sight that used to warm his heart, a sight that used to make him forget about exhaustion, a sight that used to make him feel loved.

“‘Toshi, you’re home!” You smiled happily.

But today, he could only muster a tired sigh in response. He saw you on your feet in an instant, your chair scraping against the floor as you rushed towards him. Your arms wrapped around him in a tight hug, your warmth seeping into him. But he didn’t return the hug, didn’t wrap his arms around you, didn’t press a kiss to your forehead like he always does. He just stood there, his body rigid, his mind elsewhere.

You pulled away, you don’t know if it is out of embarrassment or…due to a sudden heartbreak due to the neglect you have been suffering, but your hands suddenly cup his face, eyes searching his for a sign of the man you loved. “Um, we should, well, you should go eat,” You urged, your voice soft and your touch gentle. But he shook his head, his voice coming out gruff as he muttered, “I’m tired.”

But you didn’t back down this time, didn’t let him retreat into himself like he has done all this month. You tugged at his hand, tried to lead him to the table with the dinner you worked very hard for, trying to make him eat. “Come on, Toshi, you been avoiding me this past month,” You insisted, your voice firm, your grip tight. “Just be here, yeah?” You smiled.

But he snapped. “For fuck sakes Y/N, I’m tired!” He barked, his voice louder that he intended, his tone harsher than he meant. He yanked his hand out of your grip, his eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “You have been nagging me all these past nights to have fucking dinner and you don’t understand that I am tired.” He yelled again.

The silence that followed was deafening, the tension in the room palpable. You took a step back, embarrassed that your boyfriend had to yelled at you like that, “Ah, sorry, I just thought—“ You were saying but were cut off immediately by his sharp words.

“Thought what? Thought what, Y/N?” He yelled in disbelief, “That you have been a pain in the ass for the past few days?” He asked as he raised his voice louder, tone meaner.

“I-I’m sorry,” You apologized, trying to mask your disappointment, “I have missed you…” You mumbled embarrassedly, trying to hide your flushed face from him.

“Missed me?” He yelled, “We live in the same fucking apartment and we see each other every night!” He yelled, his voice echoing in the quiet apartment.

“I- I know, I know, Toshi,” You said, trying to calm him down, “B-But we haven’t been able to talk, you haven’t kissed me or touched me…” You admit painfully as you looked at him with teary eyes.

“God, you’re so fucking clingy and needy,” He yells as he rolled his eyes out of frustration. “All of this mess because of that?” He chuckled, “I am tired for this crap right now.” He said.

The room fell silent, the tension hanging heavy in the air. He watched your face fall, your eyes reflecting the hurt his words had caused. And guilt washed over him like a tidal wave, his heart clenching at your sight.

You know he didn’t mean any single word of it, right? He was just tired, so incredibly tired. His days were filled with endless practices, his nights consumed by restless sleep. He was pushing himself to the brink, his body and mind paying the price.

He didn’t mean it.

“Sorry,” You mumbled, “I will clean the mess,” You said as you hid your face away from his, walking towards the kitchen again.

His mind raced, guilt and regret swirling within him. He wanted to apologize, to explain, to make you understand that fuck, he didn’t mean any of it. But the words wouldn’t come, his throat tight with emotion. He was trapped in his own guilt, his own exhaustion, his own regret. And he didn’t know how to escape.

He watched from the doorway as you busied yourself in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner he had refused to eat. His heart clenching at the sight, guilt gnawing at his insides. He had been harsh, mean even, and he regretted it.

Your movements were mechanical, your usual cheerfulness replaced with a somber silence. He watched as you wiped the table clean, packed the uneaten food, and washed the dishes. Your shoulders are tense, lips pressed into a thin line.

And he noticed, noticed how you tried to compose yourself, how you tried to hold back the tears. But despite your efforts, a few escaped, trailing down your cheeks and disappearing into the collar of your shirt. Each tear was a stab to his heart, a painful reminder of the hurt he had caused.

Once you were done, you turned off the lights, plunging the kitchen into the darkness. The only sound was the sound of the soft padding of your feet as you made your way to the bedroom, where he was waiting.

Both of you sat on opposite sides of the bed, an uncomfortable silence hanging between both of you. He watched as you changed into your sleeping clothes, your movements slow and deliberate. You climbed into bed, your back to him, body curling up on your side.

He was at a loss. He didn’t knew what to do, didn’t know what to say. He was worried, his mind filled with the thoughts of you, of the hurt he had caused. He knew you had taken his words to heart, knew that you were hurting. And it was all of his fault.

In the dimly lit room, his silhouette was barely visible as he climbed into bed next to you. The only sound that broke silence was your soft, muffled sobs. His heart clenched at the sound. He reached out tentatively, his hands finding their way around your waist. He drew you close, his chest against your back, both of your hearts beating in a rhythm that was painfully off sync.

He leaned in, pressing his lips against your swollen and teary face, tasting the saltiness of your tears. “I’m sorry,” He whispered into your hair, his voice barely audible. His words hung heavy in the air, a confession and a plea all at once.

You remained silent, sobs subsiding into quiet sniffles. And he could feel your body stiffen at his words. It was an unspoken tension that made his heart race with worry. He wanted to say more, you deserved way more, to explain, to ask for forgiveness, but the words stuck in his throat.

“Talk to me, love.” He implored, his voice barely a whisper. His fingers tracing circles on your waist, a silent plea for you to respond.

But you don’t. Your silence was deafening wrapping you both in a shroud of uncertainty. And he held you tighter, his mind racing with thoughts and fears. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, and that scared him.

The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open to a new day. His body felt heavy, his heart even more so. The events of the previous night replayed in his mind like a haunting melody.

He found you in the kitchen, a solitary figure bathed in the morning light. You were cradling a cup of coffee, your gaze fixed in the steaming liquid. Your face was pale, eyes rimmed with red. The sight of you, so vulnerable and distant, twisted his heart.

“Good morning,” he tried, he really did, his voice echoing in the silence. But you didn’t respond, didn’t even lift your gaze to meet his. It was as if he was a ghost, unseen, unheard. He felt a pang of guilt, a sharp reminder of his words last night.

“For fuck sakes Y/N.”

“You have been nagging me all these past nights to have fucking dinner and you don’t understand that I am tired.”

“God, you’re so fucking clingy and needy.”

His mind was whirlwind of thoughts. He had hoped that giving you space would help, that it would give you time to heal, time to warm up to him like you always do. But as the day dragged on, the silence between both of you grew. His phone remained silent, devoid of your usual messages.

No updates about your day, no reminders about dinner, nothing.

It was a silence that spoke volumes, and it terrified him.

Who would have thought? Ushijima Wakatoshi, the man who faced countless opponents on the court, was scared. He was scared that his actions had created a chasm between you, a distance he didn’t knew how to bridge.

As he returned from practice on the night, the apartment was dark. The usually welcoming lights were all turned off, a stark reminder of the cold silence that awaited him. He knew you would be in bed, probably feigning sleep. There would be no warm welcome, no home-cooked meal, no soft smiles.

He lingered at the door, his hand hovering over the knob. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the silence that awaited him. As he stepped into the dark apartment, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of dread that clung to him. He was walking into a battlefield, and he didn’t know how to fight this war.

The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the noise of the world outside. He stepped in, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. The sight of the shared room, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, was a painful reminder of the happier times.

There you were, a small figure curled up on the bed, your back to him just like last night. Your eyes were open, staring blankly at the window. The sadness in your gaze was palpable, a silent cry for help that tore at his heart.

He took off his shoes, placing his gym bag in the kitchen before making his way towards you. He tried to speak, to break the silence that hung between both of you.

“How are you?” He asked softly, but his words fell on deaf ears. You didn’t respond, didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

Undeterred, he climbed onto the bed, his large frame curling around your smaller one. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, making you face him. He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, each kiss a silent promise to make things right.

And then he hears it, he hears you crying. Tears falling like rain, burying your face on his chest and soaking his shirt. Your sobs were heart-wrenching, a testament to the pain he had caused.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. He held you tightly, as if his touch could somehow ease the pain he had caused. His apologies were a soft murmur against your hair, a desperate plea for forgiveness.

He gently lifted your face, fingers tracing the contours of your features. His lips found yours in a tender kiss, a silent vow of his love for you. He kissed away your salty tears, each one a testament to her pain, each one a reminder of his mistakes.

“I love you,” He whispered, his voice barely audible. His words were soft, filled with emotion so raw yet so powerful that it took his breath away. He repeated the words over and over, a mantra of love and regret.

Slowly, your sobs subsided. Your breathing evened out, your body relaxing against his. Falling asleep in his arms, your tear-streaked face buried in his chest. He watched you sleep, his heart aching with relief and regret.

He ran his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle and soothing. His eyes welled up with tears, the guilt and regret overwhelming him. He kisses your forehead, a silent promise etched into your skin.

“This is the last time,” He vowed to himself, his voice chocked with emotion. “This is the last time I’ll make you cry,” He promised.

He held you close, his arms a protective shield around you.

Reblogs, notes and comments are appreciated <3

#haikyuu #hq fluff #hq angst #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #angst #fluff #ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshu ushijima #ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n

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kisses4choso · 7 months

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#SUPER SHY

SYNOPSIS: their praises are just too much for you, but in their eyes, you're deserving of every last one of them, and more. CHARACTERS: SANJI, ZORO, & LUFFY WARNINGS: short headcanons, foul language with zoro bc it's zoro, duh! NOTE: @matsunok02 is the lovely person who requested this, but i can't tag you, so i hope this finds its way to you!

SANJI:

your number one hypeman, no matter what.

you put in effort to dress up? he's going to lay down over muddy puddles so your new outfit won't get dirty.

you dressed down today? he's absolutely in awe of your 'effortless beauty', in his words.

when you shy away from compliments, it breaks his heart a little bit

he loves to talk and talk about you, so seeing that it might make you feel uncomfortable makes him rethink a little...

when he realizes it's because you feel undeserving?

he's not having it at ALL.

will make you do self-affirmations; he's not playing

"you're beautiful." "..." "well?" "i'm beautiful..." "I KNOW RIGHT?!"

he's kinda (really) annoying about it, but he's naturally cheesy so you gotta put up with it

and he doesn't limit himself to looks

no, he's ALL about you

you saved the crew's ass with a last minute strategy? you must be a genius!

and he goes into DETAIL

his strategy is mostly getting you used to compliments, so over time they don't feel so disconcerting to receive

if you're one of those people that deflects a compliment by complimenting someone back... he's gonna get you outta that habit

"look at you, i've got you all to myself? how luck-" "you look handsome too." "hm, i wasn't done. let's try that again."

and once you gain confidence around him? he's going insane.

something about your shy smile gets him GOING.

"you're an angel." "thank you, sanji." "ohmygodyou'resosexy."

10/10 confidence booster, might call you cringe petnames but worth it

ZORO

tbh... zoro isn't one for compliments

but he's honest, a man of his word

so if a shirt is unflattering, trust me he'll say "that shirt's ugly as shit"

you ask him how something looks on you really often

he might be saying "DAMN" in his head

his heart's pounding, he's having a coughing attack, he feels lightheaded, and suddenly he's losing grip on his swords...

but out loud? you're getting a "looks nice"

not even a full sentence, sorry

you'll probably hear more skill-based compliments

imagine the crew's celebrating a successful trip with a round of drinks and they're about to make a toast for you

(bc you kicked ass)

and you try to push the credit onto SOMEONE ELSE?

he's ready to fight you

"luffy tripped over his own feet and face planted, sanji missed a kick and started spinning, chopper and ussop fell overboard, nami steered us until we almost tipped over, robin got locked in a storage room, and i almost drowned. give yourself some credit."

now wtf are you gonna answer to that? nothing... so as everyone else is laughing and retelling their stories, he just brings his bottle close to yours, "cheers."

tough love

but he's so serious. you work hard for your acheivements, so if you won't recognize them yourself, he will.

now if you're tryna get a compliment compliment from him?

drunk zoro

he's like 1 shot away from passing out, slurring his words and all

"hmm? oh, where'd y'get that? s'pretty, yeah."

"that smile's gonna kill me one day."

"shit, y'look cute."

"fuck, don't look t'me like that."

yeah, alcohol is his worst enemy.

in the end, he mostly just shows you how he feels through actions LOL...

LUFFY

oh, he's completely unaware

but he's always tryna hype everyone up, and you're not an exception

will ALWAYS compliment you after a fight against the marines

"you did really well out there, let's get a meal to celebrate!"

if you go, "i was kinda useless, i don't know"

he's like "???"

just take the compliment because he's genuinely concerned and will argue with you until you give up

"what do you mean?" "it wasn't my best" "which means you're amazing even when you're not trying?" "oh" "yeah! cmon lets eat!"

if you compliment him, it turns into a competition

"i like your shirt, luffy." "thanks, yours is cute too!" "well, i think it goes nicely with your hat." "i think yours goes well with your shoes." "have you been working out more?" "i have, did you paint your nails a new color? they look cool!"...

yeah, it's never ending bc he doesnt know how to stfu

but trust, you'll never feel like luffy's lying to make you feel better

he's got a way with words when hes not being idiotic

"y'know, you're the kindest person i've met. i'm so lucky to have you next to me."

LIKE DAMNNN why are we being poetic

but if luffy's anything, he's genuine

so trust that the big stupid smile on his face when he sees you is something he cannot hold back

"why're you smiling like that?" "just happy to see you!"

and you're getting tackled to the ground

he doesn't expect anything back when he praises you, he does it because he feels like it

just don't try to deny it because he will NOT allow anyone, including you, to slander your name

also, whatever captain says goes

so if he says you're the bravest, prettiest, nicest, least smelly person in the entirety of the sea, it's true

just something quick to put out ><

#change in format #op headcanons #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #one piece #sanji x reader #sanji fluff #zoro fluff #luffy fluff #zoro x you #sanji x you #luffy x you #roronoa zoro #op x reader #op fluff

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dailypenpen · 4 months

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What do Genshin Men think of with you in their arms? (pt.1)

characters: Diluc, Xiao, and Kazuha.

notes: insecurities (Xiao) but other than that fluff. gn reader, only you pronouns used.

a/n: this is my first ever fanfic. ever. omg. this is nervewracking. I do hope everyone enjoys!!

Diluc thinks he does not deserve to be loved. The people he cherished most have slipped past his fingers like sand. And similarly to sand, the hourglass of time pulls these connections apart. He sits at the top, desperately trying to reach for the ones that have fallen away. Only tears reaching towards the bottom of the glass. Almost mocking him.

So he does not understand why you still stay. Why you are here sleeping peacefully by his side. Why you snuggle closer to him, your fingers grasping for him even in your sleep. Diluc feels like he can't breathe. Diluc can't fathom your actions, your love, your care, you most of all—

And yet, he accepts your hands reaching for him. Bringing them around his waist as he presses you close to his chest. His lips coming close to your ear as he whispers sweet nothings. His eyes staring at your sleeping form, the corner of his eyes crinkling with the thought of you. You who have stayed despite everything he's done to push everyone away. Diluc has always kept everyone from arm's reach, yet you somehow managed to instead be within his arms.

He supposes he should reward your efforts, at the very least.

Diluc brings your shared blanket up closer for the two of you. To perhaps shield you from this cruel world, he muses to himself. To be the only one to see such a sight. He continues staring at you with a tenderness that he believes you deserve from him.

He thinks he couldn't fall any more in love with you. But when you smile in your rest, soft and warm and full of life. Well, Diluc sighs as he holds you closer. Maybe there truly is no limit in loving someone as great as you. Someone who makes him believe that he alone is worthy to be held. To be held by someone like you.

"You are the reason why I dream, my love."

Xiao thinks that you are utterly ridiculous. You only remember to call his name when you are falling midway from a tall peak from Jueyun Karst? Did you not think of calling him when you were out trekking so that he could come with you to ensure your safety? Or even before that, when you first went out of the inn to go?

The wind around you moves with a great swiftness that it's almost hard to miss, but you can recognize it anywhere. He grabs you, quickly holding you in his arms. Xiao looks down at you in disappointment, quickly moving to the ground to rest his feet on. You open your mouth to speak, to defend yourself. But even before you can, his narrowed eyes quickly shut down any word you wanted to say. You opt to give him a sheepish grin in return.

His eyes instantly soften as you smile at him. How? He furrowed his eyebrows at you. How could a mortal like you not have any regard for your own safety? Why risk your life with no insurance that you'll get out unscathed? Or at the very least, alive?

He pulls you closer to him without meaning to, without realizing. He refuses to bring you down to the ground. To let you leave his arms. His breathing is ragged, his arms shaking at the countless thoughts that plague his mind. What if you never called out his name? What if Xiao couldn't hear you, couldn't save you?

Xiao's grip tightens on you more, yet he is careful to not hurt you.

You stay silent, not wanting to disrupt Xiao's thoughts. Your hand moves up to his cheek, rubbing circles in an effort to calm him. Xiao flinches at your touch. You slowly retract your hand away yet he leans towards your hand. Wanting your touch. Knowing that you are safe in his arms.

He stares at you, eyes vulnerable. The one thing he hated showing to anyone. Showing how he, as inhuman as he claims to be, cares. That you brought a weakness he desperately tries to hide. That you are a weakness.

"Be careful next time, my light."

Kazuha thinks you are beyond precious. The both of you are admiring the view of the sea from the Crux, nuzzled up to one another. The Crow's Nest (you once jokingly called it the Kazu's Nest with how frequently he goes up there) is the perfect place for the two of you to cuddle without the rest of the crew spotting you. To escape their endless teasing. Especially from Captain Beidou.

You absentmindedly play with his hair, the ponytail now loose as you continue running your hands through it. He chuckles softly at your mindless actions. You truly are adorable, aren't you? Kazuha muses to himself. He wishes he could write a poem about this very moment, to memorialize it. To engrave it onto his very memory.

Yet, he does not. He stays silent. He knows that it's enough that you are with him, that you are content in his embrace and that he is in yours. That no manner of poetry is enough to encapsulate his deep affection for you. To express his joy in being with you. To somehow portray your very essence in a few words.

He knows it's near impossible to summarize you, that would be unfair to your divine beauty. Can a single word even begin to describe who you are to him? Wondrous, heavenly, or maybe even godsent? Kazuha shakes his head in dissatisfaction. No, those aren't the right words either.

The sea rocks the boat and you squeak while gripping his clothes, afraid to move suddenly with the boat. Kazuha smiles at you, patting your head. You grin back at him, releasing your grip on him. Yet Kazuha quickly grasps your hands in his, earning a small gasp from you. He chuckles again, his eyes so full of love. Almost bursting out of the seams.

You laugh with him, and he looks at you like you're his entire world. Kazuha thinks he can finally have a way to describe you. You, the person whom he always wants to rest with. His one constant in his life of being a vigilante and vagabond. The one person in his entire life that he knows that no matter what he's faced, what he's experienced, will always be with him no matter what. That you are the one person he ever truly wanted.

Kazuha brings your hand close to his lips, kissing them delicately.

"You are my home, darling."

Please consider liking and reblogging!!

#diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc fluff #diluc #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao fluff #xiao #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha fluff #kazuha #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #did you guys know I slept at like 4am to finish this LMAO I love being insomniac #penguin writings!!

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cameronspecial · 19 days

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A New Kind Of Normal (Part 3)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Fight With A Parent, Swearing, and Fear of Relapse

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.0K

Summary: Rafe has accomplished his goals and is now able to meet his daughter for the first time.

Masterlist

Over the past month, Rafe has gotten a chance to learn more about Stella from his weekly meetings with Y/N. Stella was born on May 17th, 2020 at 10:59 A.M. Her first word was Joshy, said at eleven months old when she was calling for help from her uncle Josh when her uncle Benedict would mercilessly tickle her. At two years old, she became obsessed with witches after her mother read her a book about them and it has been her favourite topic of conversation since. Her favourite colour is dark purple and her favourite food is any soup in general because she likes to pretend she is drinking a witch's potion when she eats it. The most important fact of all to Rafe: Stella Rachel Y/L/N is his little girl’s full name. Y/N had tried her best to come up with a name close to Rafe, but all the names closer she found on the internet didn’t go with Stella. Nonetheless, the action still touched him when Y/N told him that was the reason.

And now, he’ll finally get to meet his little star. His hand fidgets with the small nob on his watch, making the hands go clockwise and counterclockwise. He watches as Y/N reads over his toxicology report. She didn’t require him to do a weekly toxicology report to prove that he was staying sober, but he wanted to show her she could trust him. The logical part of him knows she won’t say that he can’t meet Stella, yet a small part of him fears she might.

The small smile she gives him relieves him of his anxiety, “This is great, Button. I’m so proud of the work you put into staying sober.” Forming a friendship with Y/N was another amazing thing that happened this month. When she started using the nickname she gave him the night Stella was conceived, he felt the air leave his lungs just like it does now. “Thanks. I was really scared that I might relapse this week after I got into an argument with my dad, but I called Diana, did some breathing exercises and looked at my picture of Stella. It all helped me get through it,” he replies truthfully. He had truly felt fear that week when he found himself on the road towards Barry’s trailer. Luckily, he was able to fight through his desire and pull over the car before he got there. Y/N nods and reaches out to place a reassuring hand on his, “Well, I’m glad you were able to recognize your craving and reach out for help with managing it. So do you want to come over after we finish our coffee?”

His lips stretch so far apart that people would think he is the Joker. He pulls out his phone to check his schedule, “No, I won’t have enough time to go home and change if I come tonight. I also need to get her a few things before I meet her. How about tomorrow afternoon? Is that okay?” “You know you don’t have to make a big deal about this with the changing and the gifts. As long as you love her and show her that love, she is going to reciprocate those feelings,” Y/N argues.

“I know, I just… Meeting her is all I have been dreaming about for the last month and I want it to be perfect. Plus, it really couldn’t hurt to get her a few bribery toys.”

“I understand how you feel. When Benny came home the week before Stella was born with the wrong colour paint for her room, I almost threw a chair at him. I wanted Finch yellow, but he got funky yellow. It didn’t matter that they were virtually the same colour. I just need her room to be exactly how I planned it. So you can come over tomorrow. Just don’t buy her too many toys.”

“I can’t be held to a gift-buying limit. I have to make up for five years.”

——

Y/N watches as Stella tries to get ready by herself, thinking about what is going to happen in just ten minutes. “Mommy, help, please,” Stella cries out for help. Y/N’s focus returns to her daughter and she has to stop herself from laughing. Stella has gotten her shirt stuck on her head because she has been trying to get her head through the armhole. Y/N approaches the young girl and helps put her head through the right hole. “You were almost there, Stells. I’m proud of you,” she praises, giving the little girl a kiss on the head. Stella shouts a thank you as she runs into her mom’s room.

Y/N follows her daughter to her room and carries Stella over to the bed. Once Stella is safely on the bed, Y/N turns toward her dresser to get her perfume. “One tiny spray for this wrist,” Y/N pushes the top of the perfume so the scent falls on her daughter’s wrist. “And one tiny spray for the other. Now, you are ready to go. Why don’t you wait in the living room for Mommy’s special guest to arrive.” The little girl runs off as her mother suggested and Y/N is left alone in her room. She looks at herself in her mirror, wondering how her life is going to change once Stella meets her dad. It’s not that Y/N doesn’t trust Rafe, he has shown her that he really is trying. It’s that Stella isn’t going to be solely Y/N’s anymore. She will have to share some parenting duties with Rafe and it feels strange for her to do that. She is the one who stayed up with Stella when she was puking all night last year. She is the one who would read the little girl a bedtime story every day. She is the one Stella goes to when she is scared. Now, Y/N is going to have to learn to let Rafe do those things too.

Rafe nervously wipes the sweat off of his palm and adjusts the hat on his head. The time on the clock shows he is five minutes early, but he can’t wait any longer. He knocks on the door and rocks on the balls of his feet. The door creaks open, yet Rafe is met with an empty doorway. It is only when he looks down that he sees the perfect little star staring up at him with her brilliant blue eyes. “Stella Rachel Y/L/N, what have I told you about answering the door to strangers?” Y/N scolds, walking into the room with an adorable motherly look. Stella looks back at her mother with a pouty look, “I’m sorry, Mommy. But I knows we were going to have a special guest.”

Rafe is in awe at how adorable she is, but he takes this as his chance to do the first fatherly act he will ever do. “Your mother is right, Stella. What if I was a stranger?” he poses, kneeling down to her level. She gives him wide eyes, “But you weren’t. You are the man who Mommy yelled at.” Her words cause pain to shoot through his heart. The first memory his little girl has of him is his argument with her mother. Y/N can see the hurt that crosses Rafe’s face and beckons the pair away from the doorway. “Yes, he is, Baby. But he apologized to Mommy and we are friends again. Did you see his hat?” Y/N points out. The small blue eyes move from his face up to his head and her eyes turn to delight. “You’re wearing a witch’s hat!” she exclaims, reaching up to her father’s head to try it on. “Can I try it on, please?” Glad that his conversation start is working, he takes the hat off and places it on her tiny head. Everyone giggles as the big hat falls over her eyes.

Now, that the ice has been sufficiently broken, Y/N decides it is time to make the introduction Rafe has been waiting for. “Stella, do you know why I asked my special friend to come visit?” Y/N sits on the couch, bringing Stella on her lap. The little girl shakes her head and rests it on her mother’s chest. “He’s your Daddy, Baby.” The excitement in his daughter’s eyes as she turns toward him sends him over the moon. The tiny girl flings herself into her arms and screams his new name. He never thought someone would call him those words, but now it’s the only one he wants to hear. “Does that mean you can play witch with me? I have a hat you can borrow.” With her now in his arms, he can smell the familiar vanilla fragrance of Y/N’s perfume. It makes him smile that she wants to be just like her mommy. Before he can answer, she runs off to her room to get her toys. She returns dragging a big plastic cauldron behind her. Rafe feels his father's instinct kick in. He jumps off of the couch and runs over to pick her and the cauldron up in his arms. Stella looks at him in awe, “Wow, my Daddy is super strong.” This absolutely kills him and he kisses her on the cheek.

——

Y/N, Stella and Rafe have spent the afternoon playing various games their daughter wanted to play. When it got closer to dinner time, the three of them worked together to make something to eat. “Button, can you please pour me some more water?” Y/N asks, holding up her glass for him to do it. He picks up the water pitcher and pours it for her, “Of course, Buttercup.” Stella may be three and eleven months old, but she is very observant. Throughout the afternoon, she noticed the tiny glances Rafe would send Y/N’s way. She noticed how his hand would reach to find her skin, yet it never seemed to land. She noticed how he would always ask for Y/N’s approval. And just now, she saw how his lips formed a massive smile because of her mother’s attention.

The small girl starts to form a plan in her head; she can see how much her father is pining for her mother. He clearly needs her help. “Mommy, I like Daddy’s hair. Do you?” she questions, looking back and forward between her parents. Y/N looks up from her food to look at Rafe, “I do like his hair. It looks nice when the front of his hair falls down like a little curtain.” He stops mid-stab of the pasta to look up at her through his lashes. “I’ll take note of that then, Buttercup,” he brings his hand up to hide the blush on his cheeks. Stella is very satisfied with the results of the beginning of her plan. She feels like a genius. Y/N doesn’t know that she is going to regret letting Stella watch Hallmark movies with her.

——

After dinner, Rafe is preparing for the roughly hour-and-a-half drive back to the Outer Banks. Stella is holding on to Rafe for dear life because she isn’t ready for him to go. “Mommy, why can’t Daddy stay?” she begs, looking at her mother sadly. Y/N frowns at her daughter, “I’m sorry, Baby. Not yet, there is nowhere for him to sleep. Plus, Daddy has work tomorrow and you have daycare.” Rafe can see the struggle Y/N is having with saying no to Stella and he helps her out. “How about I go over to the diner on Friday? I’ll be there when you get back from daycare. Maybe I’ll even have a surprise,” he offers, whispering the last part in her ear.

The darling’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree and loosens her arms from his neck. “Okay! I can’t wait to see you. Bye, Daddy. I love you,” she bids adieu. She hops down from his arms and runs to get ready for bed. The quicker she goes to bed, the faster Friday comes. Rafe calls back I love you. The two adults laugh at the child as they watch her run off. The laughter dies down and Y/N turns her body toward Rafe. “It’s okay that I come by on Friday, right?” Rafe confirms with a hopeful smile.

“Of course, as long as you are sober, I won’t stop you from seeing her. The extra business is good too.”

“Haha, I’ll make sure to deposit my paycheck before I go in then. Also, please let me know if you need anything. Money for food, rent, toys, clothes, tuition. Anything, okay. I want to pull my weight. She’s my daughter too.”

“I will, I promise. Thank you for coming over tonight. You made her day.”

They both look at each other for a second and then notice the time. “I should probably get going. It’s getting late,” Rafe concludes, taking a step closer to the door. Y/N tries to hide her slight disappointment, “Uh, yeah. Drive safe. See you on Friday.” Rafe nods his head and opens the door. “See you on Friday.” Y/N stays by the door as she watches Rafe walk down her driveway. She waves goodbye to him as he gets into his car and drives away. Once he is out of sight, she closes the door and reflects on the day. It was strange to have Rafe there, but she doesn’t regret the decision. She saw how much he cared for Stella and it solidified the idea in her mind that he is meant to be a father. This is a new kind of normal that she can get used to.

——

Since Sarah and Rafe moved out of Tannyhill, Ward insisted on having family dinner every week. Everyone knows Sarah’s departure is the main reason why Ward wanted to do so, especially since Ward tried to have just Sarah come to dinner. However, thanks to Sarah, Ward gave in to inviting Rafe. Most dinners start with Ward getting small talk with Rafe about work out of the way before he moves on with asking Sarah about a full second-by-second breakdown of her week. And this Wednesday is not any different, but Rafe has something else other than work to talk to his dad about.

“Actually, Dad, there is something I want to talk to you about,” Rafe brings to the table, looking Ward dead in his eyes. Ward stops chewing, not really expecting Rafe to have anything else to say. Ward tilts the end of his fork toward Rafe, “Okay, what is it?” “I have a daughter. Her name is Stella. She is three years old, almost four. And she looks exactly like me,” Rafe gets everything out in one go. He may have known about Stella for a month now, but he didn’t want to tell his family until he knew he could step up and be the person his daughter needed. This causes everyone at the table to freeze and look at Rafe in surprise. Ward’s eyes narrow; his brows become one. “What do you mean?” he gets out in a rough tone.

“I mean that five years ago, I had sex with Y/N and she had a baby nine months after that. I didn’t know about Stella until last month. I didn’t want to tell you guys until I was a month sober and certain that I could be there for her.”

“You better tell me that this is a joke because I can’t believe that you could be that much of a screw-up. How do you even know she is your daughter?”

“I told you, she looks exactly like me.”

“How do you know that’s not because you want to believe she does? How do you know that bitch isn’t lying to you? You were so useless that you didn’t even get a paternity.”

Rafe stands up at what Ward calls Y/N and points a finger at his father. “You have no right to call her that. I know she isn’t lying because I trust her. I won’t make her get a paternity test,” he yells. Ward lets out a low chuckle, “Okay, fine. Do whatever you want. But I’m going to need you to get a lawyer and write up a contract for child support if that’s what the bitch is after. There is no way you are actually going to raise that kid.” “You need to stop calling the mother of your granddaughter a bitch. And why can’t I raise my daughter? You are always telling me I need to take responsibility and I am. Why can’t you just be proud of me?” he argues, his anger getting to a whole other level. The other members of the dinner see that this fight is not about to end any time soon, so Sarah steps in. “Dad, stop. This isn’t going anywhere. And you should be proud of Rafe. He overcame his addiction just so that he could be a better father. That’s amazing and I’m proud of him for that. I, for one, am excited to meet my niece,” Sarah reasons. Wheezie butts in too, “I want to meet Stella too.” Rafe gives them a thankful smile but gets up angrily.

“Thank you guys for your support. I’ll talk to Y/N to find out when you can meet Stells. Dad, I wish I could say that I am surprised but I’m not,” he begins. “No matter what I do, I will never compare to Sarah and I won’t force you to meet your granddaughter. I think I’m going to go. Goodbye.” Rafe storms out of the house and slams the door. He gets to his truck and is about to drive away, yet he knows he shouldn’t. If he goes now, he is scared it will lead him to Barry’s. Instead, he pulls out his phone and dials a number that recently entered his contacts. “Hey, Button. Is everything okay?” Her voice is like a light guiding him back to home base. He vehemently shakes his head, “No, I’m not. Do you have time to talk?” Y/N immediately stops what she is doing and gives him her full attention for the whole night.

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psychedelic-ink · 6 months

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𝐒𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐡 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 4.2k

chapter summary: Summer break is finally here, meaning it's time to pick the annual vacation spot for the Miller's, only this time you also have a say in where to go. Later that night Joel makes you a promise.

warnings: none, just some fluff and family dynamics, mention of parent abandonment (sarah's mom leaving), mention of an unplanned pregnancy (again, sarah's mom)

a/n: yes there is a modern family reference in this. a heavy one at that because that show has been engraved in my brain from rewatching it over and over this year

special thanks to @undercoverpena for cheering me on and to all the lovely readers who continue on joining in for the ride. ily all xx

Chapter Twelve || Chapter Fourteen

“I don’t understand. Sarah never in her life hurt anythin’. She hates it when I watch action movies and always calls me a caveman for it. How the hell is she gettin’ into a fight with some girl?”

He’s spiraling. That’s the easiest way to put it. His body is humming with worry, the light in the school hall burning his eyes. Sarah, his perfect little girl getting into trouble—

Surely it was self-defense.

He paces back and forth, then angrily looks at the door. Why is this taking so long? Why isn’t he already in there, learning what the hell happened?

“Take a breath, Joel.”

His head snaps towards the source of the voice, his heart easing a bit but not entirely calmed down yet. You offer him a kind smile, patting the seat next to you for him to join you. Joel shakes his head almost violently. “I can’t,” he sighs. “I need to know what the hell happened. I need to know if she’s alright.”

“She’s in class, she’s alright,” you swiftly get up from your sweet and cradle his cheeks. He wants to look away. He’s still not used to being this vulnerable, this open. “I need you to calm down before we go in, okay? Don’t go on wreaking havoc without us learning what happened.”

Joel grimaces, his brows furrowing, he holds your wrists and tugs your hands down. He sees a moment of hurt reflected in your eyes but is quick to appease those worries by pressing his lips against your cheek. He’s glad you’re here. Truly. But he’s also worried about Sarah. She might be in class, however, that doesn’t mean that she was hurt in some other way. He lets out another breath and looks at the door. If looks could kill the wooden furniture would be dead by now.

He’s in the middle of leaning in for a proper kiss when the door finally opens. Both of them jolt, turning towards the interruption. Joel recognizes the woman on the other side. She has straight black hair that’s in a neat ponytail and thick glasses perched above her nose. Joel remembers her vaguely from Sarah talking about school... Ms. Pritchett, if he's not mistaken. He doesn't remember her first name. She’s young, maybe closer to your age rather than his. He gives the teacher a pointed look, to which she answers with a kind smile.

“Mr Miller, welcome,” her gaze shifts to you “And…”

You quickly offer her your name, flustered, as much as Joel can tell. He's a bit ashamed to admit it but at that point, he doesn't really care to figure out why you're suddenly tripping over your words. Joel turns to the teacher, his shoulders squared and tense. “You called about Sarah gettin' in a fight?”

“Ah, yes. Please, come in.”

He feels the brush of your fingers against the small of his back, a soothing touch and a quick one at that. He wishes your touch would linger, that your body would drape over his like a soothing velvety blanket. Sadly, he can't have that. At least, not now. You sit across from him and Ms Pritchett takes her seat behind the large wooden desk. Joel appreciates the craftsmanship of it. The way the wood feels smooth and new under his touch, polished to perfection, reminding him of something Tommy would make in his spare time. His eyes then linger on the nameplate right in front of him, Lily Pritchett. Now he knows the name of Sarah's teacher.

Miss Pritchett laces her fingers on top of the desk, her sharp eyes fixed on Joel’s. He suddenly feels very exposed. Like this woman can see every mistake he’s made since the day he was born. Her smile isn’t soothing. Nor is the slight tilt of her head to make her seem whatever she’s about to say isn’t a big deal. But it is. He knows it is. He’s a single dad, no mom in the picture to help him out, and day by day those shortcomings are becoming more prominent in their lives.

“Has Sarah told you about why she’s been having trouble at school?”

The question is like a knife to the gut. It’s being twisted and pressed in deeper. He can feel your gaze on him but he refuses to look back. His heart skips a beat, then another. Why the fuck is he having trouble breathing?

“Her grades are high,” he manages to choke out between gritted teeth. “I ain’t aware of any trouble she’s been havin’.”

“I’m not talking about grades Mr. Miller. In that aspect, she’s excelling. But she seems to be having trouble fitting in—”

“She has friends.”

Miss Pritchett smiles again, albeit it looks more forced this time. As if Joel is working her last nerve, “She does. But those girls are in a grade higher.” she sighs and twirls her thumbs over one another. “I had a similar problem when I was her age. The thing is yesterday the girls were getting ready for gym class and started teasing each other by snapping each other’s bra straps.” Joel’s mouth goes dry. He’s definitely out of his element. He holds his breath and waits for the teacher to continue, he feels your hand on the slope of his knee. “But Sarah didn’t have one and the other girls started teasing her.”

“Why the hell are you talkin’ to us then?” Joel glowers and Miss Pritchett's mouth snaps shut. “Seems to me that my girl is the victim. Where are the parents of the others?”

“Mr. Miller. . .”

“No. I ain’t lettin’ her take the blame that was clearly some other kid’s fault!” his voice raises, his blood pumping faster, warmer. “You here blamin’ Sarah when she was clearly gettin’ bullied under your watch—”

“Sarah tackled one of the girls.”

Now it’s Joel’s turn to snap his mouth shut. Miss Pritchett's gaze turns sympathetic and you stiffen next to him, your fingers tightening around his knee. He shuffles in his seat and raises a brow, “Pardon?”

“Some words were exchanged about Sarah’s mother abandoning her and Sarah tackled the other student to the ground. Things didn’t escalate—When Miss Crest came in Sarah was just holding her down.”

“What did they say?” he growls, anger simmering right under the skin.

He hates feeling like this. So out of control. Hates that her daughter is being targeted for something that was out of his and her’s control.

“Her mother left us when she was young. A goddamn baby. Are you meanin’ to tell me that these kids are so undisciplined that they’ve been bullyin’ my girl for somethin’ that ain’t her fault?”

“The girl who said it, Kimberly,” Miss Pritchett sighs softly when Joel fixes her another glare. A warning that she’s seen too many times from overprotective parents. “She apologized later on and the two have been talking a bit in class.”

“I don’t care if she apologized—”

“Joel. . .” He finally turns to look at you. You say his name not as a warning, but more as an anchor grounding him to the moment. He’s breathing heavily. His body wrung out and ready to collapse. He takes a deep breath. In and out. He allows you to say what you want to say, what he’s too stuck in his own head to ask. Your gaze shifts from him to Miss Pritchett. “What should we do?”

“Try to talk to her. If her mother left when she was young, like you said,” she gestures towards Joel. “She might’ve not fully registered what happened. Or what it means to not have a mother and only now she might be realizing it. As for the other situation, it might be good to get her a training bra for now.”

A training bra, what does that even mean? It’s like he’s drowning, everyone saying things he just can’t understand.

“The girls reconciled but I just wanted to get a chance to talk to you, Mr. Miller, before summer break starts.”

God, they still have to pick out the annual vacation spot, “I appreciate it,” he mutters, not really looking at anyone in particular. He gets up from his seat and so do you and Miss Pritchett. She extends a hand and he takes it.

“Feel free to call if you have any other questions,” she says. “Sarah is a good girl and has a bright future. This is just a little bump in the road.”

And for the first time since he entered the office, Joel smiles. She does have a bright future. She’s the most amazing girl she knows.

“Thank you.”

The sky is crystal clear not a cloud in the sky. Joel hates it. And not just because he’s in a sour mood but because there’s nothing he can stare at in the sky. Nothing to distract him. They’re waiting for the final bell to ring so they can get Sarah and go home together. Tommy is supposed to pick them up.

“You have to calm down,” you say, walking up to him enough to leave a friendly distance in between. Joel is tired of keeping you a secret. He wants to feel the softness of your body against his own, want to feel your breath on his skin as you speak. “I can go with her and get her a training bra. But you need to be the one to talk to her.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “You think I don’t know that?”

“I. . .I know you do. But let’s be honest you’re not exactly the most talkative. We’ve been together for a while and been living side by side for even longer—I still have no clue about Sarah’s mother or what her name is.”

“Her name is Jessica,” he deadpans. Then with a sigh, he drags his palm down his face. “It’s hard for me. I don’t really have answers, sweetheart. She just up and left one day. She must’ve planned it because it was right after when we switched to formula.”

“Did Sarah ever ask about her before?”

“Once. When she was little.”

“And?”

His cheeks burn with frustration and he stammers of his words, “I don’t know. I don’t remember, she was really young so I think I made up somethin’ about her having a job far away or somethin’.”

Joel groans and looks up to the sky. He watches the blank blue sky. How fucking boring.

Your touch on his cheek brings him back down, your smile a balm to his soul, “Just talk to her. Ask her if she has any questions and be honest. She’s a smart girl. I’m certain she’ll understand that you’ve been hurting too.”

Joel leans into the curve of your palm. A grateful smile tugs at the corner of his lips. You’re too good for him. That much he knows. You’re everything.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” his heart melts between the bones of his ribcage. “I lo—”

The sudden sound of the bell makes you both jerk away from one another. Joel’s eyes land on your face, you look horrified and panting with parted lips. He can’t help the burst of laughter that drops from his mouth as he places a hand on the top of your head.

“So jumpy,” he mutters, and as he does his eyes catch sight of a bubbly girl with beautiful brown curls. “And there’s Sarah.”

He might be imagining it but Joel swears you frown when he removes his hand from your head. Before Sarah comes over, he gives you a quick pinch on your waist and your smile is back.

“Hey there baby girl,” he says. “How was school?”

Sarah’s eyes flit between you and himself, “It was fine. . . Am I in trouble?”

“Not at all.” Sarah looks skeptical but accepts his father’s words for now. Just as she opens her mouth, a loud familiar honk interrupts. The three of them turn towards the song along with a couple of children and families.

“Whoops.” Joel can vaguely hear Tommy say as he jumps out of the truck. He makes his way towards them with quick steps, only slowing when his gaze lands on you. Joel hates the way his chest puffs up like a rooster at that. He doesn’t like the sudden kicked-puppy look Tommy is giving you. As if you’ve betrayed him in any way. . . He runs a hurried hand over his jaw. If anything all of this is Joel’s fault and not yours. He refuses to let anyone think otherwise.

“I thought the teacher called you?” Tommy asks, gesturing with his head to Joel. His gaze swiftly moves back to you. “What are you doin’ here, sweetheart?”

The endearment rolls off his tongue a bit too rough, which rubs Joel the wrong way. Joel watches you shift from one foot to the other, looking like a deer in headlights. “I asked her to come,” he steps up. “I was worried.”

Tommy’s eyes soften and Joel’s heart threatens to shatter. He knows his brother cares about him. It hurts especially when he shows his emotions so easily, the complete opposite of Joel, he’s like an open book.

The younger Miller holds Sarah’s shoulder and pulls her close, “You a’right? Anyone givin’ you trouble?”

“No, Uncle Tommy. It was more like I was the one causing trouble.”

All of them start towards the truck and as they do Joel doesn’t miss the way Tommy’s eyes light up at what she said.

“The perfect student finally getting her hands dirty? Now I’d pay good money to see that—”

“Tommy.”

“But I wouldn’t obviously,” Tommy clarifies, ignoring Joel’s warning. He leans into Sarah’s ear. “Did you get them good, baby?”

Sarah smiles and Joel realizes he would let her get away with murder if he must.

“I did.”

“That’s my girl.”

You and Sarah sit in the back while Joel sits in the passenger seat and Tommy gets behind the wheel. An uncomfortable silence surrounds them. The car starts moving and Joel turns a bit, looking between both you and Sarah. You’re looking out the window, your forehead smushed against the glass and Sarah is pretty much doing the same thing excluding the smushed forehead part. He sighs and turns back. Tommy is also tense which Joel can tell by the way he holds the wheel. He can’t really blame him. If you coming along with Joel wasn’t a tell of some sort he doesn’t know what is.

“So,” Joel says loudly, cutting the silence in two. “We might as well plan the family trip while we’re drivin’ back home.”

“Italy.” Sarah piques.

“Every god damn year—no Sarah we’re not goin’ to Italy. But we will one day. Promise.”

“Then I’m out of suggestions.”

“What about you?” Joel asks, addressing you. For a second you look unsure, and he notices your eyes finding Tommy’s through the rear window mirror. “With how often we see each other you might as well come with us on vacation. It’s only for a week.”

“Are you sure?”

Your voice comes out tiny, insecure. He hates it.

“‘Course I am.”

Tommy jumps in before you can respond, "How about Lake Buchanan? You know, where we used to take Sarah when she was little. There's a resort there now, called Canyon of the Eagles or something."

Joel raises an eyebrow, considering the suggestion. "Not a bad idea, Tommy. What do you think?" he asks, stealing a glance at you through the mirror.

A small, genuine smile forms on your face. "Sounds perfect. I'm in."

"Great," Joel grins. "Lake Buchanan it is."

Sarah, who had been lost in thought, perks up at the mention of the destination. "Lake Buchanan?"

"Yep, that's the place.” a fond smile playis on his lips. “Remember the stargazing?"

"Not really,” Sarah scrunches her face in concentration. “But it might be fun."

"It's gonna be a blast."

Joel shares a glance with you, both of you secretly reveling in the joy that Sarah's excitement brings.

He has no idea how long he’s been staring, but he knows it’s been for a while now.

Sarah walked up to her room pretty quickly when they arrived home, Joel wasn’t happy about the way she practically ran away from having a discussion, however he also figured he learned from the best—which was himself.

He takes a deep inhale, feels the way his chest expands, and exhales all of it from his lungs. He can do this. He can talk.

Joel knocks three times with his heart in his throat. He never felt more relieved in his life when he heard the faint permission to enter the room.

“Hey there, kiddo,” he says, leaving the door open. “I think we might have some things we need to discuss.”

“Is this about Kimberly?” Sarah sighs and closes the book she was reading. She sits up on her bed, pulling her skinny knees up to her chest, she stares at her dad. “I’ve already delt with that. We’re fine. And I’ll never do it ever again,” she raises her hand as if she was pledging herself to the American flag. “Promise.”

“You know that’s not why I’m here. There’s more we need to talk about and you know it.”

“I know you don’t like talking about her, dad,” she sighs. “I’m sorry I tackled Kimberly. She just got on my nerves. I don’t even know where it came from.”

Joel decides not to tell her that she did good tackling her classmate and that he’s proud. No one gets to bully his daughter, and he’s glad she knows how to defend herself. But it’s probably a good thing he doesn’t encourage it.

“I don’t mind talkin’ about it,” he says instead. “What do you wanna know?”

Sarah blinks, “Why’d she leave?”

The second time today Joel is indescribably gutted. It was a question he didn’t know the answer quite himself. He hated calling Sarah an accident—but if he had to keep it blunt that was what it was. They were young when they got married, and eager to be with one another. Joel still remembers the night. The creaking of his old truck as rain fell upon them. At the time he would’ve called it romantic. Jessica had just left work, Joel was waiting for her right in the parking lot. He didn’t want her to get soaked under the rain. She was upset at something that happened at work and searched for relief in his mouth. He remembers the way her curls tickled his face, how eager she was to mark his neck—

That was the first time he came inside her. She said she would take a pill the next day. Three weeks later they were pregnant. Joel, despite their crippling finances, was excited. A baby—what else could he have wanted? Sure he had to make some adjustments to his career but that didn’t matter to him.

Jessica left as soon as Sarah didn’t need to breastfeed anymore. She didn’t even leave a note. Her family was out of state and technology wasn’t as savvy as it was now. He couldn’t track her down. He’s also ashamed to admit he didn’t really try. He was hurt. Heartbroken. He thought they had something special, that having Sarah was both of their dreams.

But apparently, it was only his.

All he can feel is pain as he takes a seat next to Sarah on the bed. He wants to console her, tell her some solid truth that would ease her pain. But he can think of none.

“I don’t know, baby,” he says barely above a whisper. “She didn’t leave a note when she left and I could never track her down.” Sarah’s eyes shine with coming tears. He can’t handle it anymore, he pulls her to his chest, hugs her tight. “I’m sorry baby girl. None of this is your fault. I—I wish I could be better. I know I have shortcomings but I’m gettin’ there promise. And. . . And if you want we can. . .” A knot forms in his throat. He can barely speak. “We can track her down. Ask her for the truth. Because I swear sweetheart I don’t know. Maybe I did something to run her off,” Sarah stiffens under his hold but he continues. A faint sniffling reaches his ears. “I was workin’ day and night at the time. Tryin’ to get the business goin’. It’s possible I wasn’t attentive as much as I wanted to be—I might’ve—”

“Dad.” Sarah’s voice comes out harsh as she peels herself away from Joel’s embrace. He sees the fire in her eyes but also the pain, her sweet cheeks wet. Her brows are furrowed much like his and he can’t help but think it’s the cutest thing. “Her leaving isn’t your fault,” she then says, taking him by surprise. “I don’t know what you did—or if you did anything— but she lost all credibility when she just got up and left. Both. . . both of you were dealing with something huge. That burden can’t just be yours.”

Joel blinks rapidly. His eyes sting when he does, he takes a sharp inhale and refuses to wipe his eyes. He’s not crying. He’s not emotional. It’s just the remains of the damn perfume Sarah likes to spray so much of.

“And sure, we might have some problems, but that happens in every family. I love what we have. You’re the best dad a girl can ask for.”

“You think so?” Joel chokes out. Sarah quickly nods, her own eyes suddenly wetter than before. With a smile, he shakes his head and pulls her in for another embrace. “For what it’s worth you’re the best daughter a dad could ask for,” he murmurs. “And I ain’t mad at you for tacklin’ that Kimberly girl. She deserved it.”

Sarah’s laugh comes out muffled, “Dad. . . you’re not supposed to say that.”

“I don’t care.”

They hold on to each other with no urgency of breaking apart. He doesn’t care about the others. About the other families and their children. All he cares about is his daughter’s wellbeing. His own family that he built from jack squat.

The rest of the world can eat shit for all he cares. As long as his little girl is safe, his brother doing alright and you in his life, he doesn’t care about the Kimberlys of the world.

“So everything went alright with Sarah?”

Settling beside Joel, a bowl of popcorn rests comfortably on your lap. The DVD menu is on, faint music of the movie he popped in echoing from the speakers. You were a bit hesitant to come over after today. And you were surprised to hear that Sarah went out to stay with her friends. You’d expected the two to have a long talk, maybe even share a pint of ice cream. But Sarah was Joel’s daughter after all, just like his father she probably cut it short, told her how she felt and they both moved on.

You can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. However, as long as they’re both happy you don’t care all that much about how they get there.

“It went fine,” Joel responds, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “Just like you said, I was honest and she understood. I’m tryin’ to figure out where to go from here. I think there are a bunch of old pictures in the garage, including Jessica and Sarah as a baby. I don’t know if she would wanna see those though.”

“Yeah. . .” Your eyes shift to the screen, sadly, you don’t really have an answer to that. It’s not like Sarah thinks of her mother fondly and would want to see pictures. Your brain and heart are both worn out from everything that happened today. Both organs scrambled and twisted. You let out a soft sigh—a sigh so soft that it barely parts your lips, but he hears you.

“I haven’t asked how you were feelin’ about all this,” he squeezes your shoulder. “How have ya been? This wasn’t all too much for you was it?”

You smile. After all this time you’re still not used to being looked out after.

“I’m okay. I just. . .” You think of Tommy and the look he gave you right before giving all his attention to Sarah. The hurt look in his eyes. The suspicion. “I need you to promise me something—I need you to swear on it.”

His brows furrow, the deep crease between them making your heart clench. You chew on the inside of your cheek, your stomach suddenly full of knots. “I need you to swear you’ll tell Tommy soon. We—We can do it together if you want but I can’t handle seeing him almost every day and just lying—”

“You’re—We’re not lyin’—”

“Swear.”

He turns to you now. The soft light of the TV illuminating his face, making it appear softer. More innocent and full of hurt. His eyes grow kind, understanding. Your eyes widen slightly. Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart plummets. You don’t think there’s a man out there capable of better understanding you than Joel Miller. He’s everything. And he makes you feel like everything.

“On my life.”

we're entering the vacation arc babes 🚗🌲🏞️

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #tommy miller x reader #tlou fanfic #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #stay in bed

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thehighladywrites · 4 months

Note

How would the acotar boys react and comfort a asexual reader?

acotar men x asexual reader

summary: you’re asexual, how do the acotar men react?

warnings: mentions of violence

amara’s note: thank you for the request anon, i hope you like it💗💗

Rhysand, Lucien

They understand perfectly well

Are proud that you told them and it honestly just prompts them to spoil you even more, to be more romantic

They understand that sex isn’t something everyone desires or want, especially after what they went through Under The Mountain.

Will fight ANYONE who says anything about it

They just focus on the other parts of your relationship bc they’re not animals who are only in it for the sex

They let you take control and if they do something that accidentally crosses your limits, they make mental notes of not ever doing it again unless you initiate it

They act like they always have, just with new guidelines

Your love hasn’t changed or decreased in any way

Cassian:

We all know this guy is very handsy and touchy, bro exudes sexual energy

He notices how you look kind of apprehensive and back off when he initiates something that will 100% lead to sex

I feel like he would be a bit conflicted when you tell him bc he views sex as something intimate and super casual, something he enjoys doing.

But he doesn’t like sex nearly as much as he loves you so he researches more about it and adjusts

You sit down with him and explain your feelings

He asks if he can kiss you, touch you, hug you, where your limit is and you explain where you draw the line

He realizes that he can’t joke and tease like he usually does bc his words and smooth actions bring women to bed with him

He doesn’t mention it because he doesn’t want you feeling conflicted or upset so he tones the secual jokes and innuendos down

If he ever feels turned on or something, he’ll jerk off privately bc he can’t imagine ever making you uncomfortable so he does it unnoticeable

He also picks up a new hobby with you to fill the space where he usually fucks

Whatever hobby you guys pick up, get becomes an expert in, literally anything

Azriel, Eris:

In my head, sex isn’t life or death for them, they manage without and it doesn’t affect them

They are very busy anyways

When you tell them that you’re ace, it makes no difference, only makes them more romantically charged instead of sexually charged.

They understand and recognize that a relationship is beyond sex.

There is love, care, banter and a lot of feelings involved

if anyone even ATTEMPTS to say something about it, they will most likely die or get seriously injured

Seriously, they don’t play when it comes to defending their love

🏷️ tags: @infinityfandoms @amygdtjhddzvb

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johnnysuhbmarine · 4 months

Text

Just Add Alcohol...you know, the Antiseptic Kind

Pairing: Jeno x reader Description: After getting into another fist fight, !best friend Jeno ends up back at your place for help, but you’re about at your limit of how much you can stand to see him like this before saying something about it. The only problem is, you still haven’t found a way to address it without bringing up your feelings. Word count: 1,508 A/n: first fic :') wrote this sometime last year and I think it's the best out of my completed one shots, so now I'm sharing it with the world (that's you). shout out to @fullsunstrawberry for convincing me I wouldn’t die if I actually posted my writing <3333 please enjoy, or don’t…I can’t tell you what to do, but feedback would be GREATLY appreciated :)

You squeeze the excess water out of the rag before stomping back over to where Jeno laid on the couch. Your heavy, rhythmic breath is the only sound to fill the tense silence between the two of you as you press the towel up towards his eyebrow, covering a freshly split-open patch of skin. The action provokes the usual wince in pain from Jeno, but you don’t say ‘sorry’ this time, instead just clenching your jaw.

It was routine at this point. Jeno would knock on your door barely able to hold himself up, you would help him to the couch, or on days where he was particularly bloody, you’d have him sit on your bathroom counter and just pray he even had the strength to make it all the way there. Then, you’d get to work on cleaning him up, because you always clean him up, from his fights on the playground in primary school to now, when some kind of fate lets the two of you reconnect after you moved away before high school only to end up at the same college. It was two years ago when you immediately recognized the crescent-eyed smile of the boy sitting at a table you passed on your walk to class. You froze in the middle of the science building, sure you were crazy, but it only took a second before he came up and grabbed your wrist to spin you around. “I knew that was you.” He stated in relief as he pulled you into a hug that you fell right into, just as you always had. Your best friend status seemed to stick through all those years apart, as had his fighting tendencies. Though now, instead of pressing band-aids over boo-boos, you were disinfecting deep, bloody cuts, and wrapping gauze around his rough hands, misshapen by the amount of fingers he had broken that he never gave time to properly heal.

You never reprimanded him. You didn’t need to. He knew that seeing him in this state was hurting you. Though you never said so, it was always evident by the look on your face that you couldn’t be bothered to cover up. What he didn’t know was that you were only on the med-school track because, since kindergarten, you had wanted to be a doctor so you knew how to take better care of him when he got himself injured.

“You’re mad at me.” His gentle voice, the one he spoke with only when he was talking to you, cuts through the silence and brings you back to the present. You take a second to think about how to respond as you move onto his next wound.

“Why do you get into fights?” You ask, no real emotion behind your words outside of genuine curiosity. Jeno shakes his head, wincing as he quickly realizes that the motion was too rough for him right now.

“No reason.” He replies calmly, and you look up to meet his eyes as you press your towel against the cut by his lips.

“No reason? You do all this for no reason?” You spit back, unable to keep your even tone anymore. Jeno rolls his head to the side, dodging eye contact with you as he replies.

“I knew you were mad.” He says, almost absentmindedly.

You take a sharp inhale of breath, annoyed beyond measure, finally breaking.

“Of course I’m mad! I can’t leave you alone for one second without you hurting yourself!” This time, when Jeno winces, it’s not because of the antiseptic or pressure, it’s your tone, one he was so unfamiliar with when it came to you. All he thinks to do is roll his eyes in response.

“I mean, I always end up fine so it’s okay-”

“No!” You yell, cutting him off as you throw the cloth haphazardly at his figure, getting him to move his gaze back over to you in confusion as he picks up the towel and presses it against his wounds in your place. You just look at him, eyes scanning his entire bloodied up figure on the couch, tears threatening to spill for the first time ever in front of him. “No, it’s not okay. Not when I go crazy with worry wondering when the next time will be that you end up on this couch for me to fix. Do you get it? Do you get how scary it is for me to see my best friend beat up like this?!”

“I mean, the other guy always looks worse…” He states, the tiniest laugh accompanying his words, enraging you even more.

“You’re unbelievable!”

He furrows his eyebrows as much as he can before it strains against his cuts. “Me? You’re the one all worried for no reason-”

“I love you! Is that reason enough?!” You yell, standing up and walking towards the kitchen in your best attempt to get away from him.

“Oh, God.” He says softly from the couch, and that’s all it takes for tears to start their race down your cheeks.

“‘Oh, God.’” You mock, shaking your head in defeat. “Great. Great. You can keep that towel, but please get off my couch and go somewhere else. Preferably, to a doctor. The rib that I keep telling you I’m worried about every time I see you, it feels broken now.”

There’s a beat of suffocating silence before he speaks up again. “Y/n…” He says, just as gently as before, though you take none of it.

“Just go!” You shout across to the living room. You hear him let out a heavy exhale before responding.

“First, it’s hard to move because I apparently broke a rib, so if you want me to go, you’re going to have to help me up and out of the door. Second, the reason I got into the first fight on the playground in kindergarten was because that kid, Seongho, made fun of your hair bow.” You render still, staring down at your hands splayed out on the kitchen counter. You don’t know if you can form any response, you’re hardly sure if you’re breathing. Thankfully, Jeno fills the silence himself. “I said ‘oh, God’ because I realized I should’ve just told you that when you first asked. That I get into fights because some part of me has always needed to protect you. That the fights I seek out are against people who eye you like creeps. Yeah, I get into other stupid fights because people wanna punch me so goddamn bad for some reason and I don’t know how to back down, but the ones I start are just so I can keep you safe and gentle in this stupid, hurtful world.”

Time seemed to stand still. You couldn’t wrap your head around his words. They seemed too unreal coming out of his mouth, but he spoke so surely. In the consequential stark silence, you hear him groan in pain, finally getting you to move as you rush over to him on the couch, extremely scared he was actually trying to get up and leave now, which he really was in no position to do by himself. However, when you get over to him, he hasn’t moved an inch. Instead, a soft smile covers his face as confusion crosses yours.

“I just did that to get you to come over to where I can see you again.” He admits, and you deadpan before you can finally find humor, shaking your head with a small laugh as tears continue to run down your face. Then, he finally does move, reaching a hand up to caress your cheek as his other still holds the damp cloth to his cuts. “I love you, y/n.” He says gently, making sure you were holding eye contact with him as he did so. You use a hand to wipe the remaining tears off your face before leaning in to kiss him softly.

When you pull away, Jeno moves his head up to chase your lips as much as he can without hurting himself, pouting when you take a step back and shake your head. “You can kiss me all you want later. I have to get you to an actual doctor before your fractured rib punctures your lung and you die.” You state plainly, reaching an arm under him to help him off the couch as the two of you hobble towards the door.

“I got so lucky…you’re incredibly romantic.” He replies sarcastically, and you just turn your head to look up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know why you’re teasing me. I don’t want you to die. That’s very romantic.” You respond with a smile, opening your door to get out into the dorm hallway. Jeno smiles lightly, kissing the top of your head as the two of you wait on an elevator. Then, all you can do is hold his hand as the doctor calls Jeno stupid for getting into fights (you slipped him a $5 for that one).

#Jeno #NCT Dream #Jeno One Shot #Jeno x reader #NCT Dream x reader #Jeno fanfic #Jeno angst?#Jeno fluff?#Jeno who knows #NCT #NCT Dream drabbles #Jeno drabbles #nct x reader #nct scenarios

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khujoor · 7 months

Text

NEW & EDITED. SAY YOU'RE MINE. / CHAPTERS 1-2

wc: 2.7k+

whole plot synopsis: a loveless marriage slowly gains some unwanted feelings in the middle.

playlist ao3

"I hope you can understand my current commitment," Childe stated calmly, taking a sip of his coffee. He settled into his seat with an air of confidence that seemed to assert his authority over the place. With little interest in indulging in idle conversation, he added, "For all I care, you may have another romantic interest, but kindly refrain from interfering in my affairs."

His nonchalant words irked you, but you recognized that he meant no harm. "I understand," you curtly replied. "Perhaps we should limit our interactions to work-related matters? It would be wise to exercise caution, given the media's tendency to scrutinize any associations."

Just as your phone rang, you hastily excused yourself and exited the room, leaving Childe to ponder his thoughts. Despite knowing each other for a while, you'd never truly engaged in conversation. You had always seemed distant, exuding an air of superiority that both intrigued and intimidated him.

However, Childe's mind soon drifted to Lumine, his true love. She possessed all the qualities he desired in a partner – strength, intelligence, and striking beauty. Unlike others, she harbored no interest in his wealth or status; she simply wanted him. She was perfection.

Amidst his contemplation, Childe realized he knew very little about you. While your demeanor had always impressed him, he couldn't claim to know much beyond that. Since childhood, he had never made an effort to engage with you, assuming you'd dismiss him.

"My apologies, shall we continue?" You softly smiled, taking your seat across from him. "We'll need to convey deep affection for each other, even if we don't genuinely feel it. Those close to us may be aware of our situation, but the public shouldn't be."

Growing restless, Childe absentmindedly swirled his coffee cup. Pretending to be in love was uncomfortable for him, but he understood the necessity to safeguard both your reputations. He couldn't afford more negative publicity, especially with upcoming business deals.

"I understand," Childe reluctantly agreed, meeting your gaze with a hint of reluctance. "I'll do what's required, though it's not something I'm at ease with or particularly fond of."

You nodded, your eyes locking in mutual understanding. Both of you knew the task at hand, even if it wasn't your preferred course of action.

Neither of you desired this marriage. While Childe longed to marry Lumine, the choice of you over her puzzled him. Why were you considered the ideal partner, and not her?

"The engagement announcement party is tonight, so I trust you'll know how to play your part," you stated as you rose from your seat, heading towards your office.

The engagement announcement party loomed on the horizon, a grand event that would alter both your lives significantly. As you left your conversation with Childe and headed toward your office, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled within you. The weight of your impending engagement hung heavy on your shoulders, and you knew that the party would only intensify the scrutiny and expectations.

As the evening approached, you donned a stunning gown that had been specially selected for the occasion. The dress was exquisite, fitting the role of the radiant bride-to-be perfectly. You looked at yourself in the mirror, and it was as if you were seeing a stranger. The reflection staring back at you was the embodiment of the role you were about to play, a role that had been thrust upon you without your consent.

With a heavy heart, you descended the grand staircase of your family's mansion, where the party was set to take place. The ballroom was adorned with opulent decorations, a testament to your family's status and wealth. Guests, dressed in their finest attire, mingled and sipped on champagne, awaiting the grand announcement.

You spotted Childe across the room, resplendent in a tailored suit, and you couldn't help but admire the composure he maintained despite the brewing storm of emotions within both of you. As you approached him, he turned to acknowledge your presence with a polite smile.

The elegant ballroom buzzed with anticipation as the company dinner began. You stood by your father's side, your heart fluttering with nervousness. You knew what was about to unfold, and it filled you with unease. Your father, a prominent figure in the business world, had a habit of making significant announcements at these events, and tonight was no exception.

As the guests chatted and savored their meals, your father cleared his throat, commanding the room's attention. He wore a warm smile, seemingly proud of the announcement he was about to make.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "I have some wonderful news to share with all of you tonight." The room fell into an expectant hush. "My daughter, Y/N, has found a partner who perfectly complements her."

A soft gasp rippled through the crowd, and all eyes turned to you, "And it is with great pleasure that I announce her engagement to the esteemed Childe Tartaglia," your father continued, gesturing toward Childe, who sat at a nearby table, wearing an impassive expression.

Surprised murmurs filled the room. Childe, known for his daring business ventures and adventurous spirit, wasn't the conventional choice for someone as poised and reserved as you. Attendees exchanged puzzled glances, uncertain of how to react to this unexpected revelation.

Your best friend, seated at the same table, leaned closer and whispered, "Are you sure about this, Y/N?"

You mustered a small smile. "I... I'm still figuring it out myself," you replied, not entirely dishonest.

As people discussed the engagement among themselves, some raised eyebrows, expressing doubts about the compatibility of the couple. Others found the idea of such an unexpected union intriguing.

Childe, however, remained composed, sipping his wine as if the attention didn't faze him. But those who knew him well detected a trace of unease in his eyes.

Amidst the ongoing chatter, your father raised his glass, prompting everyone to follow suit. "To the happiness of my daughter and Childe, may their love and partnership thrive in the years to come!"

The toast received polite applause, but uncertainty lingered in the air. Your mind was filled with conflicting emotions.

Throughout the evening, you put on a brave face, engaging in small talk with the guests. But your thoughts were consumed by doubts and questions about your future.

As the night drew to a close, Childe approached you with a gentle smile. "You've handled tonight admirably," he remarked, seemingly unperturbed by the skepticism around you.

"Thank you," you replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty. You noticed him glancing at his watch, a worried expression crossing his face. "Is something wrong?"

"I have to leave," Childe said, his voice tinged with regret.

You nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy for him. Despite his wealth and status, Childe didn't appear entirely content with his life. And neither did you, for that matter. But for now, you had to put on a brave face and navigate the situation.

"I understand. Take care, Childe," you said, watching him disappear into the crowd. As he departed, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for both of you. Could you ever genuinely find happiness together, or was this all a facade for the sake of reputation and business interests?

Only time would reveal the truth. For now, you had a role to play, and you intended to play it well. Straightening your posture, you put on your most charming smile, bidding the departing guests farewell. It would be a long night, but you were determined to see it through.

As the guests gradually departed, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. The night had been tiresome, but you had managed to maintain appearances. All you wanted was to go home and unwind.

As you headed towards the exit, a hand grasped your arm. Turning around, you saw your father, his expression filled with conflict.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he whispered, barely audible. "I know this isn't what you wanted, but it's necessary. For the sake of our families."

You gazed into his eyes, searching for sincerity. He appeared genuine, but his words deepened your unease. "I understand, Father," you replied softly. "But I can't help but feel that this isn't what I want. I don't want to be forced into a marriage for the sake of business and reputation."

He sighed, his expression softening. "I know, Y/N. I wish there were another way, but we must consider the bigger picture. Our families have much at stake, and we can't let it all crumble."

You nodded, recognizing the gravity of the situation. But that still didn't change the fact that you were being thrust into a marriage with someone you barely knew, let alone loved. It felt like a recipe for disaster.

"I'll do my best to make it work," you said, your voice tinged with resignation. "But I can't make any promises."

Your father reached out to hold your hand, squeezing it gently. "I know it's not ideal, Y/N. But I have faith in you. You're a strong and capable woman. Who knows? Perhaps love will blossom between you two."

You forced a small smile and nodded, even though the idea seemed implausible. Love was an emotion that couldn't be forced or manufactured. It either existed or it didn't.

Furthermore, you couldn't help but wonder about Childe's feelings in all of this. What were his thoughts on this arrangement? Did he have someone else he loved, just as you did?

As you both parted ways, your father with a heavy heart and you with a sense of impending uncertainty, you couldn't help but reflect on the path that had led you here.

chapter two.

"Play with me!" You pleaded, tugging at the ginger's arm with all the earnestness a child could muster, while your light brown teddy bear dangled from your other hand.

"Get away from me!" Childe grumbled, his frustration evident as he struggled to free his sleeve from your relentless grip.

"What's the matter?" Someone inquired, approaching the two of you. It might have been a butler from Childe's family; their voice exuded a calm, soothing contrast to the high-pitched cacophony that surrounded you both.

"They won't leave me alone!" Childe lamented, half-dragging you along with him towards the newcomer.

Childe sighed as he gazed at the plain wall ahead, wondering if your clinginess had subsided at all. You had only met once before, yet you clung to him desperately, as though afraid of being left alone.

You had always struggled with attachment issues. Your mother had abandoned you at a young age, promising to return but never fulfilling that pledge.

But Childe was unaware of your past.

"Childe," you spoke, pulling him back from his reverie. "You have to tell me if this looks good."

You both clearly lacked any affection for one another, yet you were engaged. But wasn't love something reserved for those who chose to marry? Whatever you had with Childe seemed destined to be devoid of love.

He glanced at you, unable to deny that the dress suited you perfectly.

"It's fine."

"You have to be more specific," you muttered, your frustration evident. "You need to pick a suit that complements my dress, so your opinion matters too."

You had grown up with the maids in your home regaling you with stories of weddings. You had envisioned your own day with sparkling eyes, eager to marry, to be surrounded by friends, to wear a dress that would hold cherished memories for years and potentially be passed down to your future children.

Yet, this dress held no such significance for you.

It would only serve as a reminder of the day you married him.

Perhaps Childe felt similarly? You had no way of knowing.

"It looks fine; just choose what suits you."

As the tension between you and Childe continued to mount, a employee approached, concern etched on their face. "Is everything all right, you two? Weddings should be joyful occasions."

You exchanged a quick glance with Childe before replying, "Everything's just fine, thank you. Just a minor disagreement about wedding attire."

Childe nodded in agreement, and while the engagement had been anything but a fairy tale, both of you knew that putting on a facade of happiness was the only way to appear as if you cared.

"Whatever," you sighed, feeling a hint of frustration. You gently pressed your finger against your temple to ease the growing headache. "It seems like I misjudged your ability to help me choose a suitable dress. Have you made a decision about your suit yet or are you still undecided?"

Childe glanced up from his phone, choosing his words carefully. He took a few steps forward and studied you closely. "(Y/N), are you undressing in front of me right now?" he asked hesitantly, disgust creeping into his voice.

"Oh, please," you scoffed lightly, shaking your head. "I have more self-respect than that; I would never do something so demeaning just for someone else's sake, especially not for you." You gracefully slipped out of the dress, revealing a nude-colored leotard underneath. Carefully, you placed the dress aside and began walking around the room.

Childe followed your movements with his gaze, his eyes studying every part of your body. You couldn't help but notice his indiscreet perusal and inwardly smirked at his sudden change in demeanor, from dismissive to almost predatory. Perhaps it would be wise to keep your distance from Childe after this encounter.

"You can find your suit across the street. They're known for their quality," you said, matter-of-factly.

"Are you sending me off alone?" he asked, a hint of amusement lacing his voice.

"Of course I am. Clearly, you have no interest. Maybe you'll find a new companion for yourself," you replied nonchalantly.

Childe raised an eyebrow at your words, a small smirk forming at the corner of his lips. "And what makes you think I'm interested in companions?" he asked, stepping closer to you. His presence sent a shiver down your spine, partly from the chilly air conditioning and partly from the sudden proximity.

You turned to face him, your eyes locking with his. "Oh, I don't know," you said slowly, tracing a finger down his chest. "Perhaps because you already have feelings for someone who isn't the woman you're going to marry?" You whispered in his ear, curious to elicit a reaction.

Childe's eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face before being replaced by a sly grin. "Oh, so you've been paying attention to me, have you?" he teased, his hands resting on your hips as he drew you closer.

Your heart raced in your chest as you looked up at him, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. "You mentioned it when we first met that day," you reminded him.

"Hmm?" he hummed playfully.

"You seemed uninterested in me at the time," you said, recalling the memory.

"I did, didn't I?" he agreed with a playful grin.

Childe's breath hitched, his eyes narrowing slightly. He leaned in closer, his lips dangerously close to yours. "And what makes you think I love anyone?" he murmured, his voice low and husky.

"Don't underestimate me," you replied, your own voice lowering to a sultry tone. "I can see it in your eyes, the way you speak about her. It's obvious."

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "Well, you're quite perceptive, aren't you?" he murmured. "But who's to say I can't love more than one person?"

"I am a powerful woman, Childe. I can easily discover who this woman is and reach out to her as soon as I do," you spoke with a hint of determination, as if holding a dagger to his throat.

"And if she doesn't believe you?" he questioned.

"Fine," you paused, taking a deep breath. "She might not believe me, she might even think I'm jealous. But I always get what I want, Childe."

You didn't care about Childe's opinion of you. Whether he saw you as a spoiled brat or an attention seeker was inconsequential.

"Alright," he responded calmly, creating some space between the two of you. "I'll go."

"Great," you said, maintaining your composed demeanor.

You sighed out of relief as you watched him walk away, thankful he was finally gone.

TAGLIST (comment/ask): @crisdamoon @zamorazz @esthelily @duckyyyx @yuumaofc @chuuyajax @seawater-aurelia-writing

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4dkellysworld · 3 months

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It is not the spoon that bends, it is only yourself

I was discussing stuff with AI 4dbarbie and this profound scene from The Matrix came to mind so I watched the clip on youtube.

Spoon boy: Do not try and bend the spoon. That's impossible. Instead... only try to realize the truth. Neo: What truth? Spoon boy: There is no spoon. Neo: There is no spoon? Spoon boy: Then you'll see, that it is not the spoon that bends, it is only yourself.

There were some amazing comments under that video that I think are gold and good food for thought (or even to meditate on) - I saved them and wanted to share. I know this is also a materialization-themed post* but I'm more wanting to point out the concept of limitations that we've had ingrained/may deeply believe but for Self, there are no limitations in this world of illusion, it is just like The Matrix. And this explains why materialization of anything is possible for the realized being (or one who truly understands this principle) because they have dropped all concepts (including ideas of limitations), understand that there is no "reality" as we know it, and that it's all just a reflection of our mind. That's why even in loa*, they say not to try change the physical or even focus on it because "it is not the spoon that bends" (it is not about the physical) but you (and your mind) - when you change your mind, the projection/reflection changes. And that's why there are no limits and nothing is impossible for the one who truly realizes all this because all limitations are only self-imposed through one's own thoughts and beliefs! And we always have a choice to think/believe/know something differently, it's just that it can be hard to allow ourselves to do this due to past conditioning which we falsely believe (which we can drop when we want!) - so we try to rationalize why it's not possible or real and thereby basically shoot ourselves in the foot and become a self-fulfilling prophecy for why it isn't possible or real, because we thought so lol. *disclaimer: I am not a loa/materialization blog, please don't ask me about manifesting/materialization of desires :D Besides, all answers should already be available from 4dbarbie and realisophie's past posts and asks if you want to look for them.

Some comments that I enjoyed a lot are below. I think they had a good grasp but I recognized even they do not understand the full extent of there being no limitations (the person who wrote the reality bending comment then later wrote that this concept was exaggerated for action and entertainment purposes hah). Truly I feel so blessed to have learned all that I have since discovering 4dbarbie, non-duality and my Self.

The boy was trying to iterate to Neo that by maintaining awareness of the fact that You're in the Matrix and that all physical things that "exist" within said Matrix don't actually "exist", the ability to "bend" the rules becomes apparent and achievable

To understand this scene you simply need to replace the word spoon with reality. "Don't try to bend reality, that's impossible. Instead only try to realize the truth. What truth? There is no reality. Then you will see that it's not reality that bends, it is only yourself."

In truth, all appearances are just one's own ideas, which have been thought up by "the spirit" itself, like reflections in a mirror

The whole thing is about getting out ahead of a thing and creating the thing that you want. Looking at something as it is, it will leave it as it is. But getting out ahead of it means he wanted something different: he wanted to see a bent spoon. Before he could get that, he (in his mind) saw the spoon as bent then so strongly, believed that the spoon could bend, that he changed the matrix (or the matrix changed for him). This is an exact mirror to our lives. Whatever you want in your life, see it, visualize it**, believe it so strongly, and watch the path to that desire appear. The beauty in this scene the kid did it right before, helping him to believe faster or deeper. But we have mentors and tons of people doing great things we by now should know the impossible is actually possible.

(in response to above comment) Exactly right. It's really hard to get behind the conditioning that we have learned from early on in our lives and so it was for Neo.

Matrix World Rule: If you believe it's real then that's your reality. If you don't believe it's real then you can change the reality of matrix. Ultimately there is nothing there except your perception.

There isn’t a spoon, the line in the movie is the core of the deepest truths of life. There isn’t a you, and when we realize that the human form and life experience we have everyday is just imagined, then you have awakened and overcome the illusion and can “move mountains” (i.e. do the "impossible").

**I want to add that it's not necessary to visualize or even imagine in order to materialize, a single thought of knowing it to be so or accepting it as absolute fact (in loa terms) is enough if you are free of limitations, otherwise techniques/methods can help you get to this knowing.

#still on break but wanted to share this spontaneous post. i'll get to your questions when i'm fully back #writings #highlights: purple for 'action' points - pink for other highlights - blue for core points - red for important points

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degreedummy · 4 months

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Leo/Cancer 12H + 12H Sun/Moon

Getting too comfortable in your current conditions or refusing to acknowledge how your needs have developed out of fear of looking selfish will make following your desires almost completely impossible.

For Leo 12H/12H Sun, I think you have a habit of only allowing your confidence to extend as far as people validate it, refusing to set yourself up to be the punchline of a joke you have a habit of seeing yourself as. With your ego being cast into the shadows, the only time you allow your confidence to breathe is when someone passes by with a torch. You've become accustomed to cherishing your talents in the dark so much so that you've never taken the time to explore practicing them freely.

For Cancer 12H/12H Moon, you have a habit of saying yes to every demand in a panicked attempt to avoid any conflict. Putting your needs on the back burner, you tend to only focus on making sure everyone around you succeeds no matter what, even if that means moving past you. You have a habit of being prepared for abandonment, finding your role in society to be one of an unpaid psychologist, traveling the world trying to survive off of the wished-for reciprocation that you never actually ask for.

You find no shame in second place because you know how to turn it into a platform to embolden the winner, setting your pride aside to allow them to have their day, but I think the comfort of never having the light shone on you has become detrimental to your cause. I think you find pride in being able to let pain go easily, but there tends to be a twisted past behind this habit, most usually a refusal for your original comforts to be met by people who promised you more than they were ever actually willing to give you.

You call victim to false promises, to a point that it almost feels like you intentionally fulfill your half to hear whatever pretty words they have prepared for you, completely submitting to the comfort while ignoring the backhanded disloyalty being slid in under it. There isn't anything you won't do for somebody you love, except for letting them go and allowing them to face the consequences of their own actions. You have a habit of stepping in between your friends and their fate.

You put no second thought into sacrificing whatever you have left to make sure the rest of the village eats for the night, even if that means going on hunger strike for the fifth night this week, and you need to learn when to stop. You're naturally altruistic, wanting nothing more than to see the people you love succeed, but you need to become more comfortable in questioning what that love is built on before trying to polish a rock like it's a statue. You don't need people as much as they convince you, they only recognize what they're losing without you, and you can't take it away if you're not aware of it. You're not aware of your power because you use it to apologize for not being even better.

I think part of you knows that you can let go at any time, refusing to answer the phone and accepting whatever reputation comes with it, but that's exactly why it bothers you. You never want to be known as the person who didn't help.

You never want to be known as the person who became everything they hated in the people they promised to be better than. You never want that one wrong interaction to be the career-defining moment that means nothing else you do will be taken seriously. At some point, you need to recognize your reputation isn't as fragile as the relationships people love to entrap you in. You are not either good or bad, you do not have irredeemable qualities, your willingness to try harder is all you need.

No matter how slanderous someone can be, the collective will be able to see the quality of your character through the veil of lies your own friends warn you against to keep you around. You are not helpless, people who benefit from your intentionally limited potential find comfort in enforcing your helplessness, and you need to be able to recognize the cause of the cycle if you truly want to break it.

You can't find comfort in consolation prizes and participation trophies, especially when you know the votes were intentionally mishandled to steal the win for someone else. You are not selfish for expecting, and enforcing, payment for your services. Stop working for free to make up for not working in advance, because none of the work being done is advancing you in life. Break away from people who see no value in you past what you can do for them.

#leo #cancer #leo12h #cancer12h #12hsun #12hmoon #astro observations #astro community #astro chart #astrologer #astrology #12h #natal chart

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blo0mmie · 1 month

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....Thinking About Yandere!Siren.

🧸Cw: Yandere in General, Obsessive & Possessive Behavior, Violence was implied, Unwanted advances, Unnamed Character, Reader's gender was not mentioned, Reader was mentioned to be a captain. Unprofessional writing, proof-read

🧸W.c: 9.9k & 900+ words (I reach the notes's limitations lmao)

🧸A/n: Shoutout to @screeching-bunny and her works! This writing was inspired by her (if you could already guess by the style I used)

Yandere!Siren who's always the talk of the town. A never-ending rumors and tales about this terrifying beast, living across the darkest depths of the sea and torments every unfortunate boat/ships who's brave enough to cross its deemed range, has been passed throughout generations.

Yandere!Siren that despite its massive, and not-so-positive, influence across the place, has never been truly identified nor had someone witnessed its true form to tell exactly what it looks like. Always been behind the fading murmurs of the waters and a fragment(s), of what is fortunate enough to be left of the already submerging ship, that swims back across the shores.

Yandere!Siren with a motive alongside its origin, remains ambiguous and a true puzzle towards the people. On why and how such a petrifying creature appeared one day and decided to ruin the peace and causes fear and Carnage across all the places that close to its 'territory'. Not even the most ambitious scientists nor avaricious politics had enough guts to bite the bullet and seek the monster themselves. Often making assumptions and false information in order to feed the media.

Yandere!Siren with its everlasting violent tendencies. Ready to snap or submerge any boat/ships within its vision field. And unfortunately, your vessel found itself trying to cross the unforgiving tides.

From a child's dream to the captain's reality.

Your lineage is renowned for its formidable members, revered for their bravery and leadership as commanders. They've played a vital role in your city's maritime activities, navigating the seas to fetch valuable goods while ensuring the safety of all aboard. Every citizen, politician, even foreigners from other lands, recognized your ancestors worth. If not for the constant negotiation with them for something, then just blunt praises and recognition for all the things they had done for the city. Exaggerating, I know but, hey. If you're living in a time where a beast was your neighbor, do you really have any options?

The people make this abundantly clear as when a news of a new offspring from your family has arrived, all hell breaks loose. People go nuts left and right as gossip and debates spread everywhere like a wildfire on the first day. Some say that you're gonna grow up to be a handsome lad. with a charismatic allure that can make any gals, and/or guys, falls and their underwear with a just passing glance and a perfect built that can make a god jealous or thirst. While some argue that you're gonna be a beautiful gal. Delicate yet dangerous as you toy with your victim with nothing but a sweet word as you point the tip of your sword in their neck or your heels between their thighs-

When the mayor of the place catches the wind of this, he immediately throws a weak-long celebration. Gifts, food, message, blessing, wishes, marriage proposals- yeah you got everything. From the humblest citizens to the most influential figures, joining to celebrate your birth. marking the significance of your presence in the family.

Every moment of your childhood felt like hell to the earth. You were bombarded with proposals from various sovereigns, allies, and political entities, some even from distant lands you haven't heard of. All the while, you had to juggle rigorous training and education to become a capable commander. And amidst it all, you felt the weight of constant scrutiny, not only from your guardian but from other things as well. as if every action and decision were under intense observation. Not to mention, the seldom time of being alone was almost unattainable. It was utterly exasperating and icky.

But despite all the endeavor along the way, you had tucked it all out and achieved the ambition you, and all of your family, have wanted; becoming a proud captain and owning a crew.

""Captain [Name]! The tides have been unusually rough lately... Is it safe to continue?" One of your subordinates cries out in fear as thunder rumbles across the dark sky, causing the said person the shriek. A gust of wind was follows, threatening to push the ship back, but you maintain control of the helm, preventing disaster. As the storm continues on, you glance over the dark waters, a sense of unease gnawing at the edges of your mind. The whispers of the townsfolk echo in your ears, tales of the dreaded monster haunting these very seas. But you're not about to give up now! No, you have to move on. Not when a heavy expectations and responsibilities resting upon your shoulders.

"We'll press on," you declare firmly, your voice cutting through the howling winds. "We cannot falter now, not when we are so close."

Your crew exchanges nervous glances, but they nod in silent agreement. Going back to their rightful position, trusting in your leadership. With grim determination, you steer the ship forward. As the ship battles against the relentless storm, a sense of uneasy hangs heavy in the air. The crew's nerves are stretched taut as they scan the churning waters for any sign of danger. Suddenly, a deafening roar pierces the raucous night, causing everyone to freeze in fear.

"What was that?!" one of your crewmates cries out, eyes wide with terror.

You grip the helm tighter, your heart pounding in your chest. "Steady, everyone. We must stay focused." No, no, no, no,

But before you can take another breath, a massive shape emerges from the depths, towering over the ship like nothing but a mere toy. The Beast, with its frightening form, flickers throughout the heavy fog and bullet rains, with the help of the lights thunder, with nothing but its silhouette and sharps teal eyes, glaring down at your ship- no, direct at you.

"It's the beast!" someone shouts, their voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. With every fiber of your being, you fight to maintain control, steering the ship away from the creature's clutches. But as the monster closes in, you catch a glimpse of its gaze. its eyes blazing with primal fury yet there's also something in there, something not akin to disdain- no, it's the opposite, rather.

A loud cackle breaks through the air, causing you to snap from your internal thoughts as you glance back at the sky. The sound sends a shiver down your spine, and your heart skips a beat as you hear the haunting words, "FOuNd yoU~"

You turn to face the source of the voice, your eyes widening in horror as you see the monstrous silhouette looming over the ship. Its gaze fixates on you, an eerie intensity burning in its eyes. "Fascinating," it purrs, voice was strangely smooth and soft despite the turmoil currently occurring. "Hmm? Why, you are even more beautiful up close, so.... fierce, so mature~ In fact, even more beautiful than any of your ancestors"

"The f*ck"

Yandere!Siren who's actually a primordial deity of the place, so, so long that no tale or history was recorded about them and their existence.. Struck by an unfortunate event that leads to a drastic change into themselves forever. Once ascended from a celestial and pacific figure that shows love and mercy to all creatures, was now descending to vindictive omnipotent that wrath remained ranging like a seas.

Yandere!Siren that upon the day they decide to cause destruction, was the day a mortal decided to approach them, your first ancestor. Deciding to try striking a deal with the cruel beast in order to ensure the safety of the nation, despite knowing the possibility of a nasty outcome. But it seems that fortuna was on their side when the monster complied. Finding a sick amusement that anyone, less a mortal, has enough guts to not only approach them but also settle a bargain. But alas, they will humor the idea, till they get bored, of course.

Yandere!Siren who's actually behind to ALL the achievements and success of your ancestors all along. Ensuring every blood of your lineage was safe when sailing his seas while still causing turmoil to the rest. Making it as if your blood was blessed by some kind of god to even return in one piece after sailing through the curse seas.

Yandere!Siren that counts every passing days, years and decades. Till the news of your birth reaches him.

"....what?" you gawk, the revelation hitting you like a tidal wave.

"Well, yeah. But that's all about it, little captain," the siren replied nonchalantly, its voice echoing through the cavern as it leaned its weight against the ground, resting its head upon its scaly shoulder. The occasional motion of its crystal fin swayed against the water. The splinters of your, now broken, ship float aimlessly against the waters.

You, however, remained silent, trying to process the flood of information the former deity had just dumped on you. So, all this time, all this effort, it was all a bluff? The achievements, the pride, even the stories they had told you as a child, had led you to believe that your bloodline was special. But it was all a fraud.

Of course, it made sense. Who would be foolish enough to navigate these treacherous seas without being torn apart by the beast? Surely, there had to be something more than mere luck protecting your ancestors. But then, why attack you now? If the siren had spared your family before, what made you different?

"Why did you decide to attack me now?" you demanded, frustration and confusion mingling in your voice. "If you let my other family members off the hook easily, even granting them goods on return, then why target me?"

"The siren's haunting laughter reverberated through the cavern, sending shivers down your spine as it revealed the grim truth. "Ah, little captain, you truly are a naive one, aren't you? Well, I couldn't possibly blame you. Not when you grew up in a grand household, feeding your little mouth with nothing but lies.~" it taunted, its voice dripping with malice and affection.

"You see, long ago, your ancestor made a deal with me, if you're still unaware of this part," the siren continued, its gaze piercing into your very soul. "In exchange for safe passage and 'blessing' for the rest of your family, they decided and offered up their 12th descendant as a sacrifice to me."

Your heart dropped to your stomach as the realization splashed upon you. You were that 12th descendant, the unwitting pawn in this charade.. Your entire existence had been predetermined from the moment your ancestor struck that accursed bargain.

A surge of anger and betrayal welled up inside you, threatening to consume you whole. "How could they do this to me?" you seethed, your voice trembling with rage and despair. You clutch your sword into a fist. the siren merely chuckled sweetly. As if watching a child, throwing tantrums, before its eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. "Oh, my dear pearl, they did it out of desperation," it cooed, its voice dripping with honeyed venom. "But don't worry, my little captain. I assured you that you are more than a sacrificial lamb to me."

Yandere!siren that takes you to its former castle, deep within the darkest depths of the ocean. Despite the passage of time and the siren's descent into madness, the place remains pristine and serene, untouched by the chaos of the surface world. Handing you a pearl that could possibly help you breathe under Proclaiming that it's your new home from now on.

Yandere!Siren who refuses to transform you into a merperson like itself, insists on keeping you with legs instead of a fin. It finds strange amusement in comparing your anatomy to its own, often tangling its fin with your legs or positioning itself between them, resting its head against your lap. When questioned, it responds with, "Your flesh was split in two, unlike mine. I wonder how wide it can stretch before reaching its limit"

Yandere!siren that's very attentive to your every need and desire. If you long for something shiny, it swiftly fetches it without hesitation. Even if you feel homesick or yearn for the surface, it begrudgingly complies, though always keeping a watchful eye on you from the depths below. It decides when to return you home, flooding the city without hesitation should anything happen to you.

....Think about Yandere!Siren

🧸A/n: Woah. First post and already long

#🧸.yandere writer #yandere teratophilia #yandere siren #yandere monster #yandere x reader #yandere god #🧸.long post

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darling-i-read-it · 1 year

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Harrington's Sister

Billy Hargrove x Harrington!fem!reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: fighting (blood, stitching), reader and billy sneaking around and making out lol, lots of smoking, drinking, parties, lots of drunk characters running around

Author’s Note: If you recognize this one you probably read ‘Harrington’ in 2020! This is the updated version of that and also the longest thing I’ve posted on this blog too date! What can I say, my love for Billy possesses me and takes over.

Disclaimer: While this is set during season 2, I don’t condone Billy’s actions in that season in the slightest. He’s an asshole and racist and has done inexcusable things. Whenever I write for him I am writing for a version of him that could’ve been better had the world around him been expanded more!

Original Request: by anon, hello! I love all of your recent content and I was wondering if you could write a billy hargrove x harrington!reader? something like they’re in a make out session and they get caught? or literally anything if you’re not comfortable with that. thank you x

(not my gif)

You leaned against Steve’s car, looking down at your wristwatch. He was late. Again. You had homework to do and the longer he took the longer you would be up working. You weren’t willing to pull an all-nighter before the test you had tomorrow in first period.

You looked around the bustling crowd of people for your older brother. He was only older by 10 months. The Harrington’s ‘two kids and done’ rule was over within two years, which prompted you and Steve to be so close in age.

You pushed yourself off the side of his car and wondered if Nancy had left yet. She was probably with Steve if she hadn’t. You might be able to find him, or at least get a ride from her. You had a grueling ethics essay that needed your attention and you knew that if the motivation went away you wouldn’t be able to retain it soon enough to get it done.

You started to look through the parking lot, filled with high schoolers who couldn’t drive for the life of them, for Nancy’s car. You didn’t dare enter the roadways with everyone leaving. You slithered between some parked cars and ran right into Billy Hargrove who was opening up the driver's door to his camaro.

“Woah there,” he said out of reflex, holding his hands to stop your momentum. Your breath hitched from the distraction. You were surprised to see him still around. Usually he was the first out of the parking lot, his car screeching as it made sharp turns.

“Sorry,” you breathed out. You tried to go around him but his car door was still in the way.

“Have you seen Max?” he asked. He knew you were often around his sister, or at least Steve was.

“No. Have you seen Steve?”

“No,” he grumbled. He looked above your head. You weren’t sure if he was looking for his sister or your brother but you didn’t move out of his way. “I’m supposed to take her to the arcade.” He wasn’t sure why he was telling you this. Perhaps it was because you were so off limits that he couldn’t help but be fond of you. Maybe it was because you were the only person in front of him who could listen. It was probably because you were in similar predicaments.

“Yeah well I have to do homework and Steve has the car keys,” you responded. He met your eyes. “If you see him will you yell at him?”

“I always do sweetheart.” You pursed your lips and pushed past him, trying to ignore the heat rising to your face. Billy Hargrove was the worst kind of guy. Steve hated him and you didn’t blame him. He was an asshole to everyone around him and a delinquent in the most traditional form.

But you couldn’t help but feel some sort of attraction towards him. It was likely rooted in the hatred Steve had for him, the natural urge to defy your older brother. You avoided him as best you could because you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist him for longer than you could stand him.

You saw Steve standing beside Nancy’s car and you ran up to him, shaking off the small interaction for nothing more than it was. Small.

Billy wouldn’t say he went out of his way to see you but he did park right next to Steve’s car for a reason. When you approached it at the end of the school day he was already there, waiting, a cigarette dancing between his fingers.

“Where’s Harrington?” Billy questioned. You went to open the passenger door to ignore this conversation but of course it was locked.

“I’m Harrington,” you argued. You turned around. There was no getting out of this one.

“Steve,” he corrected. He gestured with his two fingers back at the school. “Caught up with Wheeler again?” “Getting things from his locker. At least told me he would be longer today.” Billy pushed himself off the side of his car gently, not wanting to leave any kind of scruff on it. You were so close just by the sheer nature of the car’s being parked beside each other. You swallowed hard.

“Max skipped today,” he said, voice low. “I could take you back if you don’t wanna wait.”

“Now why would you do that?” you questioned. You crossed your arms defensively. You hoped that putting some more space between you two would make it easier to deny him.

“Out of the kindness of my heart.”

“You have a heart?”

“You’re welcome to come check for a pulse.” You narrowed your eyes at him, a sly smile playing on your face. You were close enough to touch him and though you knew you shouldn’t, you wanted to make him think you were bolder than you were. You put your hand flat on his chest. He had his red shirt half unbuttoned. You were touching his skin with your fingers spread out. You made a face like you were thinking, contemplating the heart within him.

“Feels faint. You should get that checked out Hargrove.” He was looking at you with eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Lust? Adoration? Thrill?

“You probably got a better grade in bio than I did. I’ll take your word for it.” You looked behind him, trying to find Steve among the crowd of dissipating students. “What harm will it do?” he asked, like he could read your mind.

You met his eyes again.

“You got a piece of paper?”

He went and shuffled through his dashboard for something to write on. He found a napkin and you pulled a pen out of your bag.

Found another ride

Sister

You put the napkin underneath the windshield wipers. Then you got in the passenger seat of Billy Hargrove’s car. You could smell the cologne he wore everyday, like he had spilled it on the carpet and it never came out. When he started the car music erupted from the speakers, Van Halen you were fairly sure. He pulled out of the parking spot, almost hitting someone, and then screeched through the lot to the exit.

You tried to hide the thrill in your chest. You shouldn’t be this excited to be in his car, to be on the other end of watching him leave the school. You were victim to something every other girl in the near vicinity was - feeling a pull towards the bad boy. You wanted to be better or at least be different but he had this routine locked down. He knew exactly what he was doing when he turned the music down to look at you. You wondered if the eyes he was making were part of his line, to reel you in.

“Which way am I turning?” he questioned, lowly. You pointed up towards the next street.

“Right. Then the second left.” He nodded. He took the turn too sharply. Despite his recklessness, you felt safe in the car with him. It’s like his own belief that he was invincible had worn off on you. “Thank you for taking me.” You had no real need to be home sooner. You would’ve been fine waiting for Steve. But you found you were better now that you were with Billy.

“No problem sweetheart.”

You drove in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes. You were surprised to find him not throwing out line after line. Maybe this was his thing. Make you want him more than he wanted you so that giving in felt like his choice. He had the music turned up more, tapping on the steering wheel.

“Right up here.” There was an ease in the air that was only encouraged by the slight summer air from the windows. Billy rolled his down a bit to get the airflow. The sunrays were burning up your thighs. You squirmed, trying to get them out of the direct light. “That house.”

You knew the drive was gonna be short but you still found yourself wishing you had led him elsewhere. Some sort of long route to have a reason to stay with him. He pulled up in front of your house, looking up at it.

You followed his gaze, trying to see it how he would.

There was a gentle silence.

“You wanna go get something to ea-”

“Yes,” you finished. You had seen that charming smile on his face, one that he gave when he knew he got what he wanted. He reached in front of you and grabbed a cigarette pack out of the front compartment. He pushed one out with his finger and placed it between his teeth.

“You know your brother probably wouldn’t want you in my car.”

“I think I’m a big girl who can make decisions for herself. Don’t you?” The smile grew, all teeth. He had raised his eyebrow slightly, like he was assessing the situation and knew how it would end.

“Let’s get something to eat.”

He had never turned off the car. He pushed down on the gas.

Something about Billy was so easy. The foundation of your relationship had been built on secrecy, which made it so alluring. Maybe the two of you were just destined to continue some sort of doomed circle of attraction. Whatever the reason, you weren’t about to let go.

Billy and you stuck to sneaking around after school, ignoring each other during it. You would often pretend to have a study group, which was believable. You would also make up some story about sleeping over at a friends, which was less so, but you saved that for special occasions.

Sneaking around with Billy was the most scandalous thing you had done. You were willing to bet it wasn’t the most scandalous thing he had done. But for some reason he stuck around, never giving you a hint of wanting to be somewhere else.

The inside of the Camaro had become a comfort. You started to know the grooves of the car, the way the passenger door stuck or the dim lighting of the overhead bulbs.

You pushed the rearview mirror back so that you could see your face. You fixed your hair, messy from an afternoon well spent. Billy snuck a hand onto your thigh. You eyed him evenly.

“Down boy,” you whispered.

He scoffed, his tongue coming out in his smile. He removed his hand obediently but not after a pat. You adjusted the seat you were in so it wasn’t reclining anymore. You looked back at yourself in the mirror, surprised to see you were grinning. It was like you couldn’t help it.

You glanced out the window out of habit. You were parked on the side of a highway ten miles outside of Hawkins. You knew there were almost no chances of Steve finding you out here, but the adrenaline of the almost kept you looking.

“Harrington isn’t gonna find us out here. Relax princess.” You gave him a narrow look. “Steve isn’t gonna find us out here.” You nodded once and relaxed back into your seat. He placed a toothpick between his teeth.

“You never know. He likes to be spontaneous.”

Billy was so used to sneaking around. Usually it was with girls he didn’t want to be seen with. It was rooted in selfish reasons, almost every time. Almost. He found that sneaking around with you was more exhilarating. Was it because of Steve or had Billy Hargrove actually found himself in love?

The mere thought made him want to pull away from the situation but he stayed, too stubborn to fight even himself.

“Would it be so bad if he caught us?” Billy asked. You placed your elbow on the dash between you, holding your chin in your hand.

“He’d kill you,” you whispered. He looked up at you, the smile on his face creeping wider.

“I’d like to see him try,” he whispered back, a surprising amount of sincerity in his voice.

“You sure you don’t need a ride today?” Steve was following close behind you. You were weaving through the crowd of rushing students.

“I’m sure. Thank you though.” If you weren’t so wound up in the heat of the relationship you might’ve still had Steve take you back a couple times a week. Most of the time you were skipping the last period with Billy or you had him taking you home before Steve ever left the school.

It had been almost a month that you and Billy had been sneaking around. Nancy wasn’t really cutting it anymore, in the way of excuses. She was your friend but she was also your brothers girlfriend so you couldn’t exactly confide in her where you were spending all of your hopeless afternoons.

You emerged into the parking lot. You both stopped.

“Where are you going today?”

“Study group.”

“For which class?”

“Chemistry.” He narrowed his eyes on you.

“With who?”

“Steve I don’t appreciate this line of questioning.” He searched your face for a weakness. You had none. “Tell mom I’ll be back before dinner.” You could tell he wanted to argue but had nothing to back himself up with. “Goodbye Steve.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You wound me. Goodbye Steve.”

“Are you still going to the party tonight at Thompsons?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back in plenty of time for that,” you promised. He nodded once, suspiciously.

He started to back up and ran right into someone. With his flurry of apologies you were able to sneak away. You walked around the back of the school, searching in your bag for the cigarette you had stolen from Billy that morning. You found it after a moment. You fought with your lighter for a moment before placing it between your lips and landing between buildings next to the racetrack.

Billy was already there.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked, gesturing to your lips. You took it between your fingers to leave a chaste kiss on his mouth.

“Found it in my boyfriend's car.”

“Shouldn’t be dating a guy that smokes. Bad for you,” he hummed, taking it from you. “How was your day sweetheart?” You shrugged.

“I’m skipping PE next time. I’d rather be caught dead than in that locker room again.”

“You girls have it easy. You can feign a broken nail.”

“Don’t be a douche.” You took your cigarette back. “You act like you ever come to PE.”

“Basketball counts towards my PE elective,” he promised. “I spend plenty of time in the locker rooms.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Slightly suggestive Hargrove. What are you doing in the locker room that long?” He rolled his eyes.

“We’re even now.” You nodded once. He approached you and you slung your hands over his shoulders. Smoke emerged from behind him, trailing from the cig. He leaned forward and kissed you. You were addicted to kissing him. He permanently tasted like beer and bad decisions. You wondered lazily if the nicotine on his lips added to your dependency. “You comin to the party tonight?”

“Yup,” you promised. You hadn’t gotten to see Billy break Steve’s keg record in person yet and the sheer idea of it got you excited. When he kissed you again he was smiling. His hands wandered from your hips at the sound of your moan against his lips.

“I just need to grab something from the locker room.”

Your eyes shot straight open at the sound of a familiar voice coming down the alley. You pushed Billy off of you, leaving you against the wall heaving, a cigarette still burning between your fingers.

Steve was at the end of the alley, Nancy trailing behind him. She had a firm grip on her bookbag and at the sight of you her jaw set. You could barely even look at Steve but for the sake of everyone, you met his eyes. His eyes fueled immediately with anger.

“What the fuck are you doing here with my sister Hargrove?” he demanded. Billy was looking ridiculously guilty, the red from your kisses still on his face.

“I think you know what I was doing here with your sister Harrington.”

Steve stomped forward in anger, eager to put his fists to use. You rushed between them, putting your hand against Billy’s chest and facing Steve.

“Steve, calm down.”

“Is this where you’ve been going every afternoon? You haven’t been studying at all. You’ve been with Billy Hargrove?” A defeated look went over your face. Steve shook his head in betrayal. “Why would you lie to me?”

“Because I knew you’d react like this!”

“Because you were making out with Billy Hargrove!” he repeated.

“I can make my own decisions!” “Clearly not good ones!” Nancy grabbed Steve’s arm, pulling him gently backwards. He didn’t shake her off.

“Let it go Harrington,” Billy said. Steve lurched forward and Billy walked in front of you, blocking you. You grabbed his shoulder, pulling him backwards.

“Alright alright,” you muttered. “You need to go cool off Steve.”

“She’s right,” Nancy said. She looked at Steve with an even gaze.

“I’ll see you at the party?” you questioned, eager to have this confrontation end. Steve had a hard look on his face, clearly not wanting to exit this conversation. He didn’t answer which was an answer. You’d see him at the party. Steve kept his gaze on Billy until Nancy forced him to turn around.

The tension dissipated when he left.

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“Told you it wouldn’t be that bad.” You hit his shoulder, rolling your eyes. He scoffed, feigning hurt. He threw an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to him by bending his elbow towards your neck. “I get you for a couple more hours then?”

“Seems like it,” you said optimistically.

“Let’s go get ready for that party then, hm sweetheart?”

You had been to parties before but you only ever went with Steve. You would usually lose him right after you arrived but end up having to drive him home before midnight. He always swore not to get drunk which absolutely meant he was sure to.

Going with Billy was different. He took you back to his place, somewhere you had never been before. He had you climb in through the window of his room, laughing as he hoisted you up. You threw clothes at him, knowing you weren’t about to wear your school clothes out. He had nothing in the way of girl clothes but helped you sneak into his step moms room when she and his dad went out.

“Your mom only has mom clothes,” you said, going through her coat hangers.

“Step-mom,” he corrected. He was looking in the mirror of her vanity, adjusting his hair. You reached into the back, something that felt like it hadn’t been touched since they moved in. You pulled out a dress, though you weren’t sure it was gonna fit. You hummed, wondering if you could find a pair of scissors to make it work. He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He put his head on your shoulder.

“What about this one?” you asked, holding the fabric in your hands. “I could make it a crop top or maybe a short dress. Some sort of jacket…” you hummed in consideration.

“Whatever you want. I’m sure she won’t miss it.”

He grabbed you some scissors and you made it your own, satisfied that you were able to go out in it. Then you were back in his car, the music far too loud, and the night air coming in through the cracked windows. By the time you arrived at the Thompsons residence the party had already started. You could hear the music from the car and could see the half drunk people loitering around the deck. Billy got out of the car, surveying the area, and was immediately noticed by one of the basketball players you didn’t recognize.

You followed him inside, his hand remaining in yours as he dragged you along through the crowd. You kept crashing into people but he kept your hands together, dependent on your touch. You emerged near the punch bowl that was almost certainly not punch.

“We should’ve pregamed,” you muttered. The smile that came over his face was mischievous and alluring. He had opted only to wear his black leather jacket to the party, not bothering with a shirt underneath. The amount of people there required you to be so close you were almost touching, not that you minded.

“I’ll drink enough to say we did,” he promised. He leaned over, giving you a sloppy kiss that tasted like whatever was in this punch. You hummed, melting into his touch. He held you up with a hand on your hip.

When he pulled away he was already dragging you outside. You emerged through the sliding glass doors. You were surprised at the burst of cold air, despite the fact that there were maybe more people out there than there had been inside. It was like the entire senior class was here.

“Hey Hargrove!” one of the basketball players called. You thought maybe his name was Travis but you weren't sure enough to call out to him. You knew it started with a T. “We’ve been saving this one for you!” Travis slapped the metal keg on the ground. You scoffed, looking at it in dismay. You would have one hell of a headache in the morning after that. Billy whistled at the sight of it. He let go of your hand and you couldn’t hear his voice over the people trying to talk to him. You crossed your arms, watching with curious eyes as someone made the deliberation on who would get to lift him up over it.

You shook your head in amazement. Billy looked back at you, a reckless smile on his face. You raised your eyebrows at his gaze. He gestured to the keg.

“Show me how it’s done!” you called. The smile on his face grew. The cockiness of it edged at the lines of his lips. He looked ridiculously good.

He let two people lift him over it.

You had practically forgotten about Steve. It seemed like he was a whole other universe of issues. Right now it was just you and Billy and the hundred other seniors that were around. There were not many thoughts going through your head as you watched Billy, the pull towards him suddenly undeniable.

“Where’d you get that outfit?”

Steve broke your thoughts. You turned to find him standing beside you. You hadn’t even noticed him approaching.

“None of your business.”

“Mom’s pissed. She made you dinner.”

“Don’t act like you don’t skip dinner all the time.” Your voice would’ve been a mutter had it not been so loud. People had started chanting, counting down, screaming Billy’s name.

“You’re making a mistake!” Steve called over everyone. “He’s not a good guy!”

“Some could say you aren’t either!”

It was a slightly low blow, making him think about the things he had said and done just last year.

“He won’t change!” Steve argued.

They put Billy down, cheering followed.

“Keg King prevails!” someone yelled, slapping him on the back. Billy wiped his face aggressively, yelling along with them. He turned around, completely blind to Steve, and kissed you as hard as could. You could still taste the beer on his lips, his breath aching of it. The cheering continued, only intensified at the kiss.

You could’ve sat there forever if Steve hadn’t pulled him off you by the shoulder.

Billy, hyped on adrenaline, turned to face your brother. He still had a hand on you but quickly let go when he noticed who had pulled him away. He puffed his chest.

“You gonna tell me to stay away from your sister Harrington?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m gonna tell you.” You became aware that most people were watching this unfold. Their eyes hadn’t left Billy. He seemed to do one entertaining thing after the next.

“Why don’t you make me?”

“Okay guys-” you started but was cut off by Steve throwing a punch. You gasped, not expecting actual violence to ensue. Billy, always eager to use his fists, didn’t hesitate to fight back. He pushed Steve against the sliding glass door, shattering it. Your eyes went wide, unsure how to even handle this.

People were cheering and groaning on Steve’s behalf.

Steve scrambled up, throwing his whole body at Billy.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” you muttered. You rushed to follow them as they took the fight in the house. You hadn’t been here for ten minutes before you were sure the police would be called.

Billy staggered, throwing a punch that missed. Steve grabbed a lamp off the counter and hit him with it.

“Okay! Okay that’s enough!” You pushed through the people, trying to get in between them. Before you could Billy hit Steve with a china plate that was on display in the corner of the room. You winced, watching your brother crumble against the kitchen counter. You threw yourself between them, pushing Billy back. He had a crazed adrenaline pumping look in his eyes.

You shoved him back, gently and then turned back to Steve who was struggling to stand. You found Nancy in the crowd, who heard the commotion. She was drunk, you could tell in her eyes, but not enough to not understand what was going on. She helped you help Steve up.

“It’s time to go home,” you said, evenly. Nancy wasn’t sober enough to drive. “I’ll call you a cab or something.”

“I’ll make him wait outside and think about his actions,” Nancy muttered. The event cleared her head quickly. “I’ve got it.”

“No, no, you don’t get to leave here with him. He’s not good for you!” Steve exclaimed.

“Steve, I can make my own decisions!” You turned to Nancy. “You got him?” She nodded, swallowing hard. He had a cut down his forehead but it looks superficial. Plus, if anyone was capable, it was Nancy Wheeler.

“But-” Steve started.

“You can’t protect me forever,” you said, cutting him off. He met your eyes and pursed his lips. “Go home.”

“You too.”

He followed Nancy out. When you turned around Billy was breathing hard. He was being spoken to in all directions. You turned back to him and noticed that the lamp had gotten the side of his head good. His hair was starting to turn red on the left side of his head.

You were going to speak when you heard someone scream.

“Police!”

You breathed out sharply. You weren’t prepared for this much excitement. You grabbed Billy’s arm who in turn, led you out the back. Everyone was running and you could barely see him in the dark with his black leather jacket on. He jumped the neighbors fence without a second thought. You followed close behind until you returned back to the car where you had come from. You had parked down the street a bit, which ended up being your saving grace in the night. You could see the police lights back at the house, not even a block away.

Billy unlocked the car.

“You are not driving,” you exclaimed, voice sharp.

“I’m fine,” he responded, voice rushed.

“You are the opposite of fine,” you grumbled, grabbing the keys from him. “Passenger seat.” He didn’t move. “Now!” You weren’t sure if it was the pain or the alcohol but he listened to you. He got into the passenger seat of the camaro. You started the car, cursing gently as it revved. You backed up and pulled away in the opposite direction from the Thompsons.

The music turned on naturally but it was a silent rumble to the heavy breathing you both were exhaling.

It took five minutes for either of you to speak.

“We need to get your head looked at,” you said, now that you were able to see and think straight. He nodded.

“I’ve got a first aid kit in the back.”

“Why do you have a first aid kit in the back?”

“You’d be surprised how often this happens.”

“You used to stitching yourself up?” “I find bandaids work just fine.” You rolled your eyes. You didn’t want to go back to your house, knowing it’s likely where Nancy took Steve. You hoped they had made it home safe and weren’t victims of the police raid. You didn’t want to take Billy back to his place, knowing you had stolen his step moms shirt and unsure how they would react to finding him like this.

You pulled over onto the side of the highway. It was only 10. It wasn’t completely deserted but the traffic had eased enough for you to be comfortable pulling aside. You climbed into the backseat, rummaging around his jackets. You found the first aid kit and then returned to the driver's seat. Billy was breathing evenly. You found a ghost of a smile on his face.

You opened up the kit and placed it on your lap before looking back up at him.

“Stay still,” you muttered. He did as he was told. You moved his hair aside to find the actual wound. He was bleeding from his noise from a punch but that didn’t look broken, just bruised. It was the open wound that worried you. You seethed. It didn’t look deep but it didn’t look good.

“You good sweetheart?” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah I’m fine.” You looked down at the kit and grabbed some wet wipes, trying to clear the blood away. He winced.

“How are you doin sweetheart?” you teased. He scoffed.

“I’m alright,” he promised. You worked in silence for a moment.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I did. He wanted a fight. He got one.” You couldn’t deny the truth in his statement. Steve would’ve fought him eventually. “And I won.” He turned his head to meet your eyes. “I get to keep you.” You flushed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“What makes you think I wanna keep you? Now that we aren’t sneaking around anymore?”

“You're covered in my blood,” he muttered. Your hands were stained with it. You hadn’t even noticed.

“Point taken.” You cleared your throat. “It doesn’t need stitches. You got lucky.”

“Can’t say the same for Steve.” You suddenly thought of the sound of the plates hitting Steve’s head. You winced on his behalf. He adjusted himself. “I need a shower.”

“You want me to take you home?”

“No. Don’t wanna face my dad quite yet.”

“Well we can’t go back to my house. Steve is almost surely there.”

“Then we’ll stay here till we know my dad’s asleep,” he muttered. You nodded and eased in your chair. There was a beat of silence.

“No one’s ever done anything like that for me before Hargrove.”

“I like being the first,” he muttered. His hair was fucked up and he had dried blood on his face and bags under his eyes but you had never been more attracted to him.

“Poor Tammy Thompson. She’s got a broken backdoor, the police and broken lamps,” you whispered. You hadn’t realized your voice had gone down but it felt appropriate for the vibe of the moment.

“Shouldn’t have had kegs there,” he shrugged. You smiled.

“Fair.” You saw his eyes drooping in exhaustion. You held your chin in your hand. He had rested his head against the back of his seat. “I think I wanna keep you,” you whispered. He smiled weakly.

“Good to hear.” You leaned forward, kissing him chastley, to which he responded easily. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, trailing down his skin. He shuddered against your touch.

You rested your forehead against his.

You met each other's eyes and a guilty smile played on his lips.

“What?” you whispered, giggling.

“Nothing,” he promised. “Nothing.”

Billy Hargrove had fallen in love. But he had no intention of telling you that. Not quite yet.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove x harrington!reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfiction

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ghcstao3 · 10 months

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(from this post. i got excited)

It’s an easy job, at the very least.

Show up, have Price assign a location, sell produce for eight hours straight, go home. Repeat the next day, or two days from then, whichever is most convenient to the farmer running the entire operation. Proceed all summer long.

It’s simple, almost too simple, but who is Johnny to complain when he’s getting paid above minimum wage to essentially sit around all season?

At least, Johnny wouldn’t be one to complain if it weren’t for the fellow university student he’s consistently paired up with to work alongside.

It’s not that Simon is rude or unpleasant or anything—in fact, if he was, Johnny thinks it might make things a bit easier—he’s just… quiet. And frustratingly intriguing but so unresponsive to Johnny’s attempts at making the days that seem to stretch on forever just a little more bearable.

At some point Johnny starts to think Simon hates him, with the way he’ll hold longer conversations with customers than with his own coworker. It’s miserable, in all honesty, because Johnny had just hoped to come away from this job with a friend, like most of his past employments—instead he’s been saddled with one-word responses and the barest hint of a cold-shoulder and it’s driving him insane.

But Johnny lets Simon ignore him. He’d prefer mutual company, sure, but he also recognizes when limits are set.

So when they’re trapped under their stand of the day, huddled together as much as two people can be without touching, Johnny still makes no attempt to spark conversation even as the chill of an anomalous late-June near-freezing cold soaks into his bones. He keeps his mouth shut even when he begins shivering uncontrollably, not wanting to disturb Simon and whatever contentedness he feels in his silences and steady gazes.

Though, Johnny nearly whines when Simon gets up and takes his warmth with him after muttering something about getting something from the truck.

Then Simon is returning, and something silver and crinkling is being draped over Johnny’s shoulders with a tentative care before Simon is returning to his spot without a word. Johnny pulls the emergency blanket tighter around himself and finally allows himself a glance at Simon, still composed and unreadable as ever.

Johnny dares break the silence with a soft, “Thank you.”

Simon shrugs a shoulder. His eyes are still firmly set ahead, to the space where imaginary customers stand in the pouring rain.

“Don’t imagine Price would appreciate having to fill out a report if you got hypothermia,” Simon says.

It’s the most words he’s spoken to Johnny in succession, and it comes at a slight shock. Johnny stares, wide-eyed, incidentally boring holes in the side of Simon’s face. He watches Simon’s jaw work, almost like he’s chewing on the regret of opening a line of communication to Johnny.

“I’m sure he’d find a loophole,” Johnny quips.

Simon huffs. Johnny suspects it’s the closest to a laugh he might ever get.

In the lull that follows, Simon hangs his head, picks at a loose thread on his jeans. There’s almost a bashful quality to the action as he asks, “What do you call a bear in the rain?”

Johnny frowns. The first time Simon ever really talks to him, and he’s… setting up punchlines? But even amidst his confusion, Johnny echoes, “What do you call a bear in the rain?”

Simon looks up at Johnny, brown eyes sparkling with mirth. “A drizzly bear,” he replies in a deadpan.

Johnny snorts before bursting into a fuller laugh, fingers curling tightly around the edges of the blanket as he doubles over at the absurdity of… everything. There must be something in the air. In the God-awful weather.

“That’s horrible,” Johnny laughs, “Just terrible.”

“There’s more where that came from,” Simon tells him, sounding vaguely pleased with himself.

“Well, go on, then.” Johnny grins. His stomach cramps with fading laughter. “Give it your best.”

And Simon sure does.

Johnny isn’t too certain what’s shifted between them to cause this, in this short frame of time. But either way, he’s glad for it.

Now he can only pray it holds up for the rest of the summer, let alone their next shift together. This side of Simon is far better than anything Johnny could have hoped for, in his prior endeavours to be amicable.

How he could listen to Simon telling stupid jokes for the rest of time.

Johnny can't wait to learn more about him.

#erm. Yeah #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soap mw2 #ghost mw2 #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #ghost x soap #drabble #writing #alternate universe

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antmightpost · 2 months

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The nature of cursed energy, after death sequences and a possible inspiration from Tibetan Buddhism & Tibetan book of the dead

"Nine points. Polarized light" A theory on the nature of cursed energy, after death sequences and a possible inspiration from Tibetan Buddhism & Tibetan book of the dead (Bardo Thodol). This is the 1st part of a long theory that I intend to cover in multiple parts

Gojo's chant

The Tibetan book of the dead, also known as Bardo Thodol is a sacred text guiding souls through the afterlife. Rooted in Tibetan Buddhism, it's a profound exploration of life, death and the transitional state between ( Bardo) . The origins of Bardo Thodol can be traced back to the 8th century when emperor Trisong Detsen directed Indian buddhist master Padmasambhava (lotus born) to bring the Buddhist teachings to Tibet. Also known as 'Guru Rinpoche' he brought the teachings of Bardos ( state between Death and Rebirth)

Tibetan book of the dead

Padmasambhava Physics states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, While we're alive a pattern of energy called consciousness or the 'mind' flows within our body that we identify as ourselves. But what happens after death ? This energy is no longer associated or anchored by the Physical body. It now floats, freely. In JJK the physical body is also like a barrier for the soul / consciousness which is why the innate domain or inner world manifests within a barrier or outline through a domain expansion.

Body acting as a barrier for a domain Once consciousness is loosened from any barriers ,Thoughts have no limitations set for them. "In life you make the mind , in death the mind makes you" what does this buddhist saying mean ? For ex- suppose you want to visit a place, while alive you have to follow the whole process of travelling to visit it. After death , the mere thought of visiting it will take you there (the dream realm version of it). This seems like a Fascinating concept until you think about the negative thoughts that one might have. Thoughts that while alive are slower in realization by the physical limit of the body, thoughts that in death will become your reality instantly, sometimes in rapid unending succession. This is why Buddhism places heavy emphasis on mental purification while you are alive, achieving the state of enlightenment and learning the illusory nature of one's consciousness before they Proceed to afterlife. The mind forms that one entertained or clung to while alive that manifest as body-less consciousness after dying in the dream realm are called 'Bardo'. Bardos are formed by the 'Karmic energies' or repeated thoughts one accumulates during their lifetime.

An example of the transitional state between death and rebirth (Bardo) Bardo Thodol's main purpose is to make practitioners aware of the unreality of what manifests as bardos post death. The concept of Karma refers to one's action but not merely action , Karma includes your thoughts, deeds and words. As mentioned above , the Buddhist belief is to purify the mind pre death but most if not all are unable to attain such mental purification, hence the karmic energy is inherently negative when it leaves the body, this karmic energy IS cursed energy. While passing through the state of Bardo , the deceased experiences visions And hallucinations influenced by their karmic energy they accumulated while being alive. If the deceased can recognize that these visions are illusory, let them go, they will attain a better birth and ultimately Nirvana.

Mention of karma in JJK

Even people outside of japan release karmic energy ( Cursed energy) In JJK, rebirth and attachment to one's consciousness is presented by the concept of North and South directions. North meaning rebirth, South meaning being chained to your Karma.

The idea of North and south pertaining to rebirth and clinging to your past self

There are mainly 3 sections of the Bardo state-

Chikai Bardo ( Bardo of the moment of death) - this occurs at the exact moment of death .According to Buddhist beliefs individuals may experience a profound luminosity or a clear light. The teachings suggest recognizing that clear light

The core of cursed energy (Consciousness) that Gojo experienced right at the moment of death represented with a luminous light 2. The Chonyid Bardo ( Bardo of the intermediate state of visions) After death in this state individuals may encounter various visionary experiences which can be pleasant or terrifying, the experiences are the reflections of one's karma and mental projections, individuals are said to have been visited by either deities or their loved ones in this state.

Gojo visited in his Bardo state by his loved ones

Kashimo in attendance of a deity (Sukuna) in his bardo state 3. Sidpa bardo (Bardo of Rebirth) -it refers to the period between the end of Chonyid Bardo and the time of Rebirth, in this phase the consciousness seeks a new birth guided by it's karma and desires, individual is drawn to a new existence ( Someone choosing to go North) The idea of Bardo is recognised in a broader sense in Tibetan Buddhism, various transitional states like when you dream or meditate, the state of Bardo is akin to a mental high or Trance. It's similar to NDE's ( Near death experiences) where survivors often experience a profound sense of peace and blissfulness.

Gojo feeling a mental high after experiencing the core of cursed energy (Chikai Bardo) As for why i started this thread with the words used in Gojo's chant, I think "Nine points" refers to the Nine levels of consciousness in Buddhism, 'Light' is often referred to as pure consciousness across multiple cultures and religions , the 9 levels of consciousness are - The first 5 levels ( the 5 senses of the human body) Touch, taste , sight, hearing and smell. The basic layer of consciousness formed from physical sensations, what Heavenly restriction heightens

Heavenly restriction's impact on the first 5 consciousness, possibly a binding vow that sacrifices the latter levels for heightening the first 5 The 6th level - where one understands what is being taken in from the 5 senses It's the ability to perceive and judge things , it's the ability to process information. This level integrates all the sensory input from first 5 consciousness . Perhaps that's what 6 eyes are, mastery over the 6th consciousness

7th level- unlike the prior 6 consciousness, this is directed by one's inner thoughts without any sensory input. This level deals with comprehension of the abstract, morals , distinguishing between good and evil etc. It's akin to one's ego

8th level (Alaya)- The karmic storehouse or storehouse consciousness which is known as 'Alaya' in Sanskrit. This storehouse accumulates one's karmic energy through interactions with others, as well as the causes and effects of one's actions. It stores all of one's thoughts, deeds and words throughout a lifetime , unlike the first 7, the 8th consciousness persists even after death.

Storehouse consciousness (Megumi's shadow) 9th consciousness ( Brahman)- the final consciousness from which all energy arises. It is the pure consciousness that can even suppress one's negative karma , it cannot be tarnished by any karma, the core for all mental and spiritual activity We have seen the word "Brahmic barrier" mentioned in JJK while referring to the most supreme form of barriers that are even better than the barriers tengen used to suppress the outbreak of curses in Japan, so this tracks extremely well.

Pure consciousness and the Brahmic barrier, the supreme barrier I'll end this part of my theory here, Next I'll be continuing with Megumi and his connection to the 8th consciousness, the storehouse consciousness (Alaya)

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk analysis

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markresonates · 2 years

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FASTER

summary: you catch a ride to a party with Haechan after your date stands you up, but eventually ditch when drama ensues

pairing: rich stoner frat boy!Haechan x fem!reader

genre: porn w plot, angst, tiny fluff bc i'm soft

au/tropes: university, beach town, stupid bets, best friends to lovers

word count: +4.5k

a/n: oh hey tumblr! long time, no see...let's pretend i posted this last week, okay? okay

warnings: public high sex, oral (fem), squirting, tiny humiliation, lil manhandling, me *unsurprisingly* pushing the haechan big dick agenda, drinking & smoking, semi hard dom!Haechan, sub!reader

In your mind, you envisioned tonight going down a bit differently. You should be a few drinks into the first party of the school year at the biggest frat house on campus, body buzzing from cheap booze, drunk on your youth and the fallacy you’ll live forever. You were excited for the events that lie ahead, yet unbeknownst to you, what you imagined would never pan out. The guy who asked you out at club cornucopia last week was supposed to pick you up a half hour ago, and he’s failed to answer a single call of yours.

After reviewing your options, you decide to go to the party anyways. You’ll be damned before you waste your first opportunity of the year to party like your actions have no consequences. Collecting your things, you walk through the front door with determination.

A set of white headlights approach you from behind as you lock up the place, and the new silver Porsche they belong to cruises to a stop, parallel the driveway.

“Hey, babe,” a smooth voice calls out to you from the passenger seat window. “Looks like you need a ride.”

You tense up before peering through the vehicle and recognizing the driver – even in the dark you’d recognize Haechan’s smirk and that attempted wink he throws in any day. “Hm, depends. Are you going to drive the speed limit?”

“Ha, not a chance,” Haechan says, unlocking the doors, anticipating you’ll cave regardless. The handle on the outside pops out from where it was previously flat against the Porsche door.

You mull it over for a moment, then sigh and hop in the pricey sports car. “Well, at least you’re honest.”

As soon as he hears you buckle up safely, the car takes off at a not so safe speed. “So, y/n, why are you late to my party?”

“I could ask you the same question. Why are you late to your frat’s party?”

“I’m on-time, actually,” he reports, very matter-of-factly.

You snort. “This is what on-time looks like for you? You know, you’re good at a lot of things but time management is not one of them.”

Haechan chuckles, dryly. “This is what doing an alcohol run looks like, sweetheart.”

He pulls up to a stop sign, hitting the brakes suddenly and making you grab for the railing on the car door. From tall paper grocery bags in the backseat, you hear glass bottles bump against each other, clinking loudly.

“You ran out of alcohol that quickly?”

He cracks a cocky half grin. “What can I say? I throw great parties,” he compliments himself, changing gear shifts and hitting the gas pedal. “And thank you for acknowledging I’m great at nearly everything.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “I mean like, that’s not what I said but-”

“I could show you a few other things I’m great at too…if you’re ever down, y/n,” he proposes and shoots a knowing glance your way.

Your cheeks heat up, his words compelling a fluttering sensation deep inside. It’s a familiar feeling when it comes to being within close proximity of Haechan. “Hey, eyes on the road,” you reply, directing his head forward with two fingers to his chin.

For as long as you can remember in your friendship, Haechan has been a shameless flirt. Nevertheless, after all these years of suggestive comments here and there, you’ve never taken them seriously. There was a point in high school where you had tried to distance yourself from him, at least until your tiny crush went away, but it was too hard to maintain radio silence with Haechan. Especially because he continued to bug you about hanging out and asking why you were avoiding “the bestest friend anyone could ever ask for" – his words, not yours.

The only reason you two stopped talking as much recently was that he got heavily involved with his fraternity business (and the wild shenanigans that accompanied it). It’s been a few weeks since you’ve spent more than 10 minutes with him.

“When did you get-” you begin before his abrupt parking.

“Here!” he announces. He kills the engine, getting out around the corner from Greek row. You disappointingly snap your tongue but follow his lead a second later. “Sorry, what was that again?”

“Haechan! Took you long enough!” Johnny shouts from across the street.

You take a deep breath. “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

“No, what were you saying?”

“I was saying it took you long enough!” Johnny repeats, jokingly. “What’s up, y/n? Haven’t seen you here in a while.”

“Hey! Well, I’d be around more if I was invited to.” You give Haechan a pointed look.

“Why don’t you have her over more? Scared someone is gonna steal your girl?” The fraternity alumnus’ eyes ping pong between you two, attempting to gauge reactions.

He doesn’t give him much of an opportunity to read his face, instead ducking into the car again to retrieve hard liquor from the backseat. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be DJing?” Haechan deflects.

“I left TY Track on duty right now. I was about ready to come looking for you because you volunteered to swing by the liquor store on your way here an hour ago.”

You scoff and cross your arms. “Oh, so you weren’t actually on-time to the party like you told me.”

"HA, Haechan? On-time?"

“Actually, um, I never said I was on-time to the party. I was perfectly on-time to pick you up where you were so you didn’t have to walk the entire way!” Haechan tries to clarify his vague assertion from earlier. He holds out two heavy bottles for you to take. "Here."

“I got those for you, y/n, don’t worry.” Johnny collects the two from your grasp. You grab the third from Haechan’s extended hand a moment later.

In total, your trio enters the rager through the backdoor with five bottles of the good stuff. You unload in the kitchen, where you find a tipsy Mark attending to a thoroughly shit-faced Jungwoo at their long rectangular table.

“y-y/n!” Mark hiccups. He gets to his feet, taking a few wobbly steps towards you to throw his arms around your shoulders . “I missed you!”

“Sorry, he’s clingy when he’s drunk,” Haechan apologizes for some reason.

You giggle at the cuddly boy’s inconsistent affectionate side. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Mork, get off of her, she doesn’t want you.” He enunciates his words as if explaining something to a child.

“How do you know wha- I mean WHO, she wants, huh?” Johnny teases with a suspicious expression. He strolls out of the kitchen, returning to his shared turntables.

Annoyed, Haechan sticks his tongue into his cheek and his head twitches to the side. “Ugh. I need a drink.”

The kitchen isn’t terribly well-lit but it is bright enough that you notice a light purple patch on his neck. If you had to guess, based on the yellowish color around it, you would say someone’s mouth left that mark on him a week ago.

“Are you, like, jealous or something?” Mark blurts out. He squeezes your body tighter.

You avert your gaze from the hickey, blinking a handful of times. “I, um-”

“Why would I be jealous?” Haechan snaps. He hops on the kitchen counter, sitting relatively close to you, and screws the cap off of the vodka bottle you brought in. “Like I haven’t hugged my own best friend before? Come on.”

Bingo. There’s that reminder you needed: best F-R-I-E-N-D.

You can stare at his neck all you want but nothing is going to change the fact that your lips will never be in the same place.

“Is that all you’ve done? Hug?” Jaehyun interjects from behind you. He joins your small kitchen crowd, minorly buzzed with a red solo cup of beer in hand. Mark detaches his body from yours to cling to him and weirdly rub his ears instead.

“Yeah? So?” Haechan answers, begrudgingly.

“Hm, how do you guys feel about a friendly game of spin the bottle? Or is that too much for you to handle as friends?”

“If you wanna m-make out with y/n, you don’t neeeed to play a game,” Jungwoo mumbles, every syllable of his speech slurred to the point where you can barely understand him. “She’s p-probably easy enough to get on her knees r-ight now.”

The kitchen is dead silent as all eyes turn from the drunken individual to you. Haechan puts down the bottle before taking a single swig, jumping down from the counter a second later. Your heart begins to race as adrenaline floods your system.

“What did you just fucking say?” he challenges, venomously.

Jungwoo clears his throat nervously, perking up a bit hearing the distinctive threatening tone. “Er, I didn’t say that. S-someone…someone told me that.”

He lays his hands on the kitchen table, leaning halfway over it. “Who?”

“Oh my gawd,” Mark gasps dramatically. “The bet…”

“The bet?” Haechan whips in his direction. “Whose bet?”

You remember Haechan telling you that it’s a fraternity tradition for the members to carry out a bet the first week of school every year, and you have a feeling you know who Jungwoo is hinting towards – the particular someone who was supposed to pick you up earlier.

The guy who asked you out at club cornucopia, and hooked up with on your first date the day after that. He was so persistent to get you to third base, but you turned him down that night because you didn’t want to rush into things with a person you could genuinely see yourself growing to like.

You couldn't wait for Haechan forever. You knew you had to move on – or at least try to move on.

Mark gulps guiltily, before providing context. “His bet was that he couldn’t get someone he asked out at club cornucopia to, you know–” Mark bobs his head with his mouth open. “–on a first date…and an hour ago, he told everyone he did...with y/n.”

Your best friend clenches his jaw. “Who?”

“Sungchan.”

“Yeah?” he answers, right on cue. Sunchan stops in the doorway when he meets your livid eyes. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh!” you spit. “So you really fucking lied and told everyone I sucked your dick? What the f-!”

Haechan cuts you off, socking their younger frat brother in the jaw.

You wouldn’t describe Haechan as the most athletic person in the world, but you heard from Jeno that he’s been hitting the gym more and more lately, evident by the fact he can do five full pull ups now. Much to the kitchen crowd’s surprise – yours included – his fist collides with Sungchan’s face hard enough to send him to the ground.

"Ow!" Haechan caresses his sore hand.

Having no desire to wait around and see what happens next, you grab his unharmed hand and drag him out the back door. You march him back to his car. Not a sound leaves your mouth until you are both in your seats.

“That was…” you trail off, cringing.

“y/n, I’m sorry that I-”

“No, no, it’s not you.” Receiving a call from Mark, he fishes his phone out of his pocket. He declines the call and patiently waits for you to continue speaking. “Ugh, I wish I could forget this whole night ever happened.” You bury your face in your hands for a moment.

“Hey, let’s go get high like old times,” Haechan suggests, nudging your arm softly after a moment of silence. “We can forget all about it, sweetheart.”

You give him a weak smile and hum approvingly. He smiles back at you. “There’s that smile of yours I love.”

He doesn’t stall for your input on location, inserting the key into the ignition, with a new – or should I say your old – destination in mind. It’s a 30 minute drive with no traffic but it doesn’t take long before you recognize the roads he is taking to the beach. You’re driving down memory lane, picturing the moments you shared with Haechan – you experiencing your first almost kiss with him in middle school; him sharing in great detail his first time with some hot girl you didn’t know personally but were envious of; you crying over your first heartbreak; him high blabbing all the secrets he knows about his frat brothers when he first joined and making you promise not to tell another soul.

This will just be another sour memory attributed to your favorite secret smoke sesh spot and remedied by his presence.

For once, he lets you pick the music. You keep the volume on low for him to share what he’s been up to most of the summer and you gladly listen. You’ve always been easily distracted by Haechan, and even if the party tonight was a monumental waste of your time, this moment is no exception to his captivating charm stealing your attention.

Haechan was the epitome of cool. Watching him drive, you’re convinced that he has never looked so hot. Every so often, he runs his fingers through his soft, dark magenta hair and you feel tempted to do the same. He leans back in his seat, his ripped black jean clad thighs spread wide open, right foot flooring the gas pedal. His hurt hand loosely grips the bottom of the steering wheel while the other is rested on the gear shift.

Your surroundings pass by in a blur since he speeds there nearly the entire way. You are in the middle of talking (and overanalyzing) your date with Sungchan when he pulls up to a stop light. He shifts the position of his hand to cup your thigh. It’s supposed to be comforting but, if anything, it feels more intimate and possessive than he initially intended.

He half expects you to pull away from his touch, but you wouldn’t dare move a muscle. Testing the waters, he slowly rubs his thumb back and forth on your warm thigh. It’s a delicate feeling that makes you feel like your skin is on fire. If it wasn’t for the traffic light turning green, he would have explored your body further.

He pulls into the small, empty dirt lot. Very few people know that behind a large boulder in the very corner of the lot, there is a large enough space to fit one car. He parks his Porsche but leaves it on to play music. You pick your favorite high playlist to play on warm nights like these. He retrieves the necessities from the trunk and readies things up so you don’t have to do any of the work. He takes the first hit from his ruby red bong, blowing clouds of white smoke into the air.

“You wanna be a big girl and light it yourself?” He playfully wiggles his eyebrows and waves the lighter around.

“I can do things by myself. You don’t always need to take care of me.”

“I don’t mind taking care of you, but okaaay, if you say so sweetheart,” he sing-songs.

Overestimating your abilities, you take a sharp hit and almost immediately cough. The stinging sensation prickles in your throat and lungs, while the euphoric haze punctures reality as you know it. You two go back and forth, taking turns until you’re both high as a kite.

You close your eyes and melt into the moment as Frank Ocean’s “Skyline To” flows from the car speakers.

Solstice ain't as far as it used to be,

It begins to blur, we get older.

Summer's not as long as it used to be,

Everyday counts like crazy.

Smoke, haze

The atmosphere is calming, a peaceful serenity in the silence. Rolling waves and soft melodies lull your mind into the clouds, though your despondent consciousness descends from the high quicker than you’re used to as the reality of the situation awakens an excitement only Haechan can invigorate. Where you lack vocal communication, the energy between you two buzzes and crackles as tension thickens in the humid air.

To diffuse some tension, you settle on asking about something you know he would love to brag about. “So, when’d you get this one?”

“What, the car? Last month. Isn’t she pretty?” he responds with a wide smile. He rubs the dashboard fondly. “I’ve always dreamed of having a Porsche.”

You giggle at his enthusiasm. “I guess dreams come true, huh?”

“Well…not all dreams. But maybe someday,” Haechan says, cryptically.

“I hope you get everything you could ever wish for.” You pat his knee with sincerity. “What else have you been doing since school started?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Nothing really. I basically spend all my time with the boys and my baby.”

“Um, oh,” you reply.

He gets out of the car to put away his bong and its corresponding accessories in the trunk. While he’s taking care of business, you struggle to hide your emotions to the news of a relationship you weren’t aware existed.

Maybe it’s better to know you have no chance. Almost reassuring that you can give up on your dream where you could have a life with him. At least now you know where it is he got that hickey on his neck – from somebody luckier than you are, sadly.

He gets back in the car and takes over as DJ. You wipe the built up condensation off the foggy window with the back of your hand, failing to take into account that the droplets could soak into your long-sleeved, crop top shirt if you weren’t paying attention. You regret wearing it anyways due to the fact that tonight turned out to be much warmer than the weather app on your phone said it would be.

“Ugh, fuck. Just what I needed – a wet wrist,” you grumble.

Haechan rolls down your window for you, lightly snickering at your misfortune. You hold your arms out the window and try to squeeze water from the sweater material. “Oh, so you think this is funny? Now I’m going to be annoyed by it all night.”

“Hey, it’ll dry way sooner than you think.” He rubs your leg reassuringly.

You snap your tongue and sigh heavily. “Yeah, yeah, I guess.”

“You’re cute when you complain, y/n,” Haechan says out of the blue. “Pretty cute when you’re wet too.”

You’re facing away from him, staring out at the black water as if you didn’t hear him. Despite the booming waves crashing against the shore, he hears you gulp. You nearly choke on your saliva, which leaves the impression that when you’re high, your body can’t physically function if you’re simultaneously devoting all of your brain power to the meaning behind his provocative compliments. Then again, even if you weren’t high at the moment, you’re convinced something similar would happen regardless of sobriety.

Looking at the clock, you’re surprised by how much time has passed. Your high is a faint shadow of floaty lightheadedness by this point. You basically have no excuse to feel at a loss for words other than feeling naturally flustered by Haechan – your best friend with a girlfriend of his own now.

“Aren’t you going to say thank you, y/n?” he teases.

“Th-thank you."

“You’re wel-”

“I need some air.” Before he can react, you abruptly get out of the car.

He quickly joins your side and you flinch from how close he is. “Okay, what is it? Why are you being like this?” Haechan questions, reaching for your hand.

You pull away and cross your arms. “I just don’t think we should be so close if you have a girlfriend!”

His face scrunches up. “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!”

“You just-? You just said you spend all your time with the boys and your baby.”

“God! Are you serious? Is that what this is about?” Haechan frustratingly runs his hand through his hair. “I was talking about my fucking car!”

“But-” You pause for a moment, processing his words. “But what about your hickey?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Jaemin and I had bets for the new school year where he had to give me a hickey and I had to wear it the whole first week of classes!”

"Jaemin?" Hiding your shocked expression, you look at the ground, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. Your plan works for 0.2 seconds before he lifts your chin up.

“Why did it matter so much to you?”

You gulp. “It didn’t.”

“Liar.” He moves his hand to cup your cheek. “Were you jealous, sweetheart?”

With both hands on his chest, you try to push away from him. He wraps his free arm around your body to hold you in place, causing you to gasp. Arousal instantly rushes through your lower half.

He directs your head back to stare into your soul again. “Answer the question, y/n,” he whispers with chilling intensity.

“I…maybe.” Your eyes flick down to his mouth where he wears a devilish smirk.

He shifts his hand again, this time holding under your chin but with his thumb lightly rubbing along your bottom lip. “Then I guess I have Jaemin to partially thank for making my other dream come true.”

Haechan doesn’t waste a single second diving in for a kiss. His unharmed hand slides down to squeeze your ass while the other loosely holds your lower back. You wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss by parting your lips for his eager tongue to slip inside your mouth. He wobbles you towards the car, skillfully unbuttons and unzips your jeans, and flips your body around. From behind, he rips your jeans down your legs and gets on his knees, without a care in the world that his own will get dusty. He kisses your pussy over your panties and you mewl.

Noticing the wet patch, he chuckles. “Already wet for me, hm?”

“You've always made me wet,” you answer breathlessly.

He hums, content with your response. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He thumbs your panties to the side and connects his mouth to your folds. You lean against the car, moaning his name and inflating his ego. Haechan eats you out until you’re seconds away from coming. He rocks back on his feet and opens the car door. He pushes the button in the center console to open the hood, pushes both front seats forward and flips the back seats over to give you two more space. You kick your pants off your ankles as he gets in the back. He removes his throbbing erection from his jeans and gives it a few jerks.

“Fuck, y/n. You see what you do to me?” he rasps. You nod repeatedly, refusing to look away from his precum-slick tip.

He slides a condom on and you climb on top of him, straddling his lap. You hover over his large cock for a moment before he lowers your body down. Once his whole length has disappeared inside of your pussy, you're completely full to the point where you have tears in your eyes. He wipes a tear from your cheek and waits for you to roll your hips first. Soon enough, your bodies are molding together and you’re bouncing on his cock mindlessly.

You roll your head to the side to give his mouth access to your neck. He intermittently plants wet sensual kisses, taking years worth of pent up lust out on your sensitive skin. You can feel the satisfied smile on Haechan’s lips growing wider as you moan.

“I’ve been dying to hear your pretty moans for years now.”

“Yeah? Why didn’t you d-do something about it then?”

He scoffs. “God, what did you think I meant by ‘show you a few other things I’m good at,’ huh? Hasn’t it been fucking obvious I'm crazy about you?”

Haechan manhandles your body around so you’re facing away from him. No one would know he has a hurt hand by the way he digs his fingers into your skin. He fucks you nice and hard, turning you into a whimpering mess. You might as well be high based on the out of body experience after a handful of minutes.

“F-faster,” you whine.

“Alright, sweetheart. If you think you can take it…”

He increases his speed and loops a hand around your body to rub your clit. His fingers move rapidly, the pressure in your core increasingly mounting until the sensation teeters on the edge of overwhelming. You try to fight it and last longer than your body is realistically capable of.

Haechan senses your impending orgasm. “It’s okay, baby. Be a good girl and come for me. You know you want to.”

You come on his cock with a broken sob. As his pace accelerates, you regrettably start to squirt all over the back of his front seat. You watch your juices flow out of your body, squeezing your eyes shut, humiliated you can’t get a handle on your body’s reflexes to the pleasure.

“That’s it, y/n. Let it allll out, it’s okay. Don’t hold back,” he encourages you, surprisingly not caring about the mess you’re making in his precious car.

You roll your head to rest on his shoulder and drool drips from the corner of your mouth. Your body quivers through the entire high. When his fingers continue to rub your clit, you twitch wildly. Your hot walls pulse around his cock, finally triggering his own orgasm. Haechan shoots his load inside you while a rich, deep groan falls from his lips. The rhythm of his thrusting slows to a crawl before stopping entirely.

He lifts you off of his lap when both of you have finished panting and caught your breath. He rolls the condom off and puts it in a plastic bag he keeps in the back seat for collecting trash. Leaning forward, he presses the button to close the top of the car. It’s just you, him, and the sound of the ocean again.

He hands you the panties that were discarded in the front seat and you slip them back on. Haechan sits back, pulling your body close to his side. You throw your legs over his lap and snuggle into him comfortably.

“Dreams really do come true,” you mumble, lethargically.

"I guess so." He kisses the top of your head. "Or at least mine do."

You bury your face into his chest. “Sorry about your car.”

Haechan sighs. “It’s okay, really. I can always get it cleaned. And on the bright side, every time I get in my car, I’ll always remember how I made you come in the backseat.” He squeezes you tighter and you giggle at his optimism.

You're moments away from sleep when a lightbulb goes off in his head. "Hey, sweetheart, how about you give me a hickey on the other side of my neck?"

A bolt of excitement zaps you wide awake. You look up at him, eyeing a blank space with your name on it and smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

hiii ik 2 baddies is supposed to be about a 3some but how the fuck are 3 people supposed to fuck in a car?? exactly. i watched a video tour of the 2021 Porsche 911 (what i learned to be the newest model that actually has a trunk) for this and there's like barely any space for 2 people, let alone 3...

so it's been almost 6 months since i've posted and this is something i wrote real quick in honor of 2 baddies and to feed yall a bit. originally, i intended on posting this last week (when it was still the season of summer) but i was too anxious about my own school year starting this past week to proofread. 00 liner's watch me and mark's show off are still wips bc my thoughts are all over the place with both of them.

i feel like i've developed a love-hate relationship with writing over the last 10 months and it's hard to want to do it. i feel like it makes me happy while also making me anxious. the thing is, not posting also makes me anxious. same with anon mail. i love hearing from readers but i also know that before i closed my mailbox to anon mail, i started getting a lot of hate anons again, and it didn't really seem worth it. basically, it's a lose-lose situation in both regards. i'm going to turn on anons for a little and see how it goes...

i think most of my anxiety around tumblr now is that i know people expect things from me, and i want to do so well on those things that i don't do anything at all bc i don't want to let anyone down. i'm going to be more active on tumblr again but readers need to understand i'm a person. i have a life and i have too many feelings. i don't want to leave tumblr completely but if things get to be as bad as they were in the first few months of the year in terms of feedback, i might have to reevaluate my time here. i would greatly appreciate your patience with me posting those two fics and i thank you for reading this one!

okay, tis all! and again, i sincerely thank you for reading!

stream *2 Baddies!!*

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