#or in asks but I try to be more brief here

[tremendum]

Mr. Miller's Injury ; Mr. Miller viii

[not my gif] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, some use of she/her, use of the words girl/woman) rating: explicit. [18+. mdni] word count: 7.8k summary:  ❝"you aren't doing anything, Mr. Miller," you tilt your head, bending to fit level with his face. "if you recall, you're too injured to even leave the bed."❞ warnings: storm vibes, fairly tame compared to other parts, being stood up, dom!reader, sub!joel (FINALLYYYY), brief slapping, injured!Joel, anger, spitting, brief edging, choking, PiV unprotected, this is porn with no plot, masturbation, slight voyeurism, begging, degradation, age gap kink if you squint, calling joel 'old man', v brief praise kink, lots of pet names SORRY notes: thank u all for ur patience, it's been SO LONG. I am sorry this isn't the longest update but i hope you still enjoy! switching things up a bit bc they're learning to Talk about their Feelings <3 finally <3 there will be another update v v soon as well!!! hope you all enjoy. [previous. this is part eight of the Mr. Miller series.] [masterlist]

[important - i no longer use a taglist. I've made a notifs blog - @tremendumnotifs - for ppl to follow for notifications. tysm!!] ★  

to say you're pissed is an understatement. 

forty-five minutes, you huff as you stare at the ground, forty-five minutes standing alone, looking like a fool in this fucking dress. 

the rain sloshes down on you, sending muddy streams down the sidewalk and under your boots to kiss the streetwater. it's been raining for days - ever since that black out the other night, it's barely let up; you're getting permanently used to your hair heavy from the drops. you glare sharply down at yourself, watching as sheets of water slap against your soaked corduroy jacket - the vibrant thread that sewed it together again all those weeks ago wilted by the water. you pull your jacket tighter over yourself, as if that could help at all. 

you shouldn't fucking be out here right now, getting soaked to the bone. 

sighing harshly, you squint up the street to your own house, lights off and waiting sadly; when you'd left, you'd expected not to return until the morning, anyways. 

but here you are, an hour later, dateless and more furious than you've been in ages.

you feel like a fucking idiot.  

serves you right for trusting that Joel would bother to put on a nice button-up and walk down to the bar to see you. 

you try not to glare against the rain when you pass his house; the lights are glowing from the upstairs window, and your blood boils - he's probably in there sitting around doing nothing because he's too terrified to be a man and face you in person. the bitter taste in your mouth only grows at your brief concern - you didn't see him yesterday at all, but you'd just assumed he was on patrol. 

you're about fifteen steps away from your your front door, already planning on downing a whole bottle of liquor in your bathtub by the time you hear it. 

someone shouting your name. 

turning your neck, you spot Ellie, waving her arm from only twenty feet away; the onslaught of drops has quickened, and you can't hear what she's saying. gritting your teeth, you trudge over to her, trying to hide your exasperation, "what's going on?" 

"been looking for you!" is what she shouts as you walk towards her, shouting through the rain. "-just asking where you've been lookin' like that." she gestures to your dress, one definitely meant to wear at backyard barbecues and not in the middle of torrential downpours. she pulls you by the wrist onto their porch; the lights flicker slightly and it's just barely less dry - you ignore the wall behind you, thinking back to all those months ago when Joel'd had his cock shoved down your throat with your head pressed up against it. 

you blink away the memory, anger simmering in your stomach; you ignore the heat in your abdomen. 

"I had plans." you grunt, crossing your arms. her brows raise doubtfully; so full of sass for a teen. "you seen Joel lately?" you ask, hoping to sound nonchalant; she must pick up on the anger that flows from you; frowning, she jerks her head, "seen him? that's why I was lookin' for you. I've been babying him all day." 

you stare at her, lifting a brow. "babying?" you parrot. 

she frowns, tilting her head; the water sprays in a mist onto you, out of the direct exposure but still splattering fat sheets of rain onto your ankles. "didn't Tommy tell you?" she asks, but you're nearly out of patience. 

you sigh sharply, "no, I haven't seen Tommy. been busy all day at the gardens dealin' with this shit."

this shit has been stressing you out beyond belief - a near monsoon in fucking Wyoming, drowning the crops you very desperately need for the commune. root rot is one thing, but losing all the food you'll need for months is something else. 

"well, neither have I, but if you see him, tell him I could use a hand with his brother." Ellie sasses, arms crossing. for a moment, you nearly laugh - she's standing like Joel, a look of defiance in her eyes. she huffs, "I've been trying to keep Joel in bed, but you know how stubborn he can be. he got injured on patrol yesterday."

a flicker of concern betrays the anger in your heart. you blink at Ellie. "injured? he's injured?"

she glances towards the door then back at you, her own shirt pelted with rainwater. "he dislocated his shoulder. it's pretty bad."

you let out an exasperated sigh; that's where he's been? fucking injured and didn't bother to tell you? you purse your lips, feigning calm as you actively fight off the sense of embarrassment at your own irritation. "I can help you, don't worry." you promise, wishing you'd had a chance to change out of the dress. "if you want a break, I'll make sure he doesn't kill himself for a while." even if you wish he would. 

she smiles, nodding as she turns on her heels, "thank you - you know how he is. didn't even mention he was hurt 'til I found him trying to hide it. been trying to tough it out, I guess."

you follow her into the house, gritting your teeth as you wring water out of your hair. "unbelievable," you mutter under your breath. 

Joel is lying in his bed. 

You resist the arousal that climbs at the vision of him outstretched in bed, propped perfectly on a pillow, hair grown out and curling; instead seething with irritation at him. 

"what the hell is this, Miller?" you say in lieu of a greeting, crossing your arms the second he makes eye contact with you. he's surprised to see you, but not as surprised as you'd hoped.

he looks as terse as ever, eyes darting from you to Ellie, who lingers in the doorway. he grunts, shifting slightly and wincing. "hurt m'self." 

you resist a laugh of disbelief, smiling sarcastically, "I can see that." 

he is too fucking stubborn - you're too fucking stubborn, too; there's a beat, then you give in, "you couldn't have sent someone to tell me not to show up? I looked like a complete dick down there by myself." you snap, wounded. he rolls his eyes, "well I sent her to ya, didn't I?" he snaps, gesturing to Ellie with his good hand. she shakes her head, throwing her hands up, "I don't want any part in...whatever this is." 

she disappears after muttering something about finally getting some peace and quiet - it's silent until you hear her bedroom door slam, the rain pelting down against the windowpanes. 

unable to hide any longer in the quiet, you cross your arms. he sighs. "look..." he mutters, wincing as he sits up slightly. "I'm sorry I couldn't find ya. y'don't deserve t'be sittin' alone by yourself like that." 

you clench your jaw, nodding, "you're right, Joel. I'm sorry you're hurt, I understand, it's just-" your doubts creep back in and you shake your head. "I don't know what I thought." you chicken out, looking away. 

you hear his breathing; it seems to move with your chest - a patient, quiet breath that waits for your anger to subside. 

"this ain't 2003, sweetheart," he finally says, but there's a warmness in his voice; it is wholly familiar and foreign at the same time. "can't jus' text you to let y'know I fell and dislocated my shoulder." he sighs gruffy; you huff, walking closer to the bed. "yeah, that and if it was 2003, I'd still be learning to ride a bike." 

his eyes are sharp on you - a reminder of that unspoken thing, that tension that lives between you and him, pushes you further "don't." he says lowly, eyeing you stormily as the rain forges on outside. "don't remind me of why I shouldn't be doin' this." 

the hesitation that always lingers between you sneaks up like mist through a forest; you push at it, wading through until you're next to where he reposes in bed. you can't resist the smirk that plays at your lips. "you aren't doing anything, Mr. Miller," you tilt your head, bending to fit level with his face. "if you recall, you're too injured to even leave the bed." 

he hums, eyes stirring with that playfulness that you never quite expect; he tilts his chin up and it's all you can do to not kiss the lips that part beneath you. "c'mere an' make me feel better then, would'ya?" 

you lift a brow, letting your lips brush just over his cupid's bow, imbued with the thick hairs of his mustache. you shake your head gently; he thinks everything's fine after a measly sorry? 

"really?" you whisper against his lips, "you expect me to come play nurse and give myself to you just like that?" you tut. a swirl of desire in your gut when his good hand slides up the back of your thigh, squeezing the round of your ass. 

you hope he cannot see the goosebumps up your thighs at his touch. 

"y'didn't even play nurse." he argues, tilting his head up at you. you cross your arms, unimpressed; he sighs sharply. "sweetheart, 'm sorry." he offers again. you roll your eyes, "whatever, Joel." you whisper, leaning close to him; the way he looks up at you is saccharine; revenge must be the only thing sweeter. an idea creeps into your mind; a taste of his own medicine.

you let your lips brush his, but then pull back slightly. "if I can wait for you, you can wait for me." you say, pressing a chaste kiss to Joel's lips. his eyes are no longer clouded in that warm brightness; no, he is cloudy with irritation. you bite back a grin as you pull away from him, eyeing the chair next to the bed. "the fuck's that mean?" he grunts, eyes hawkish as they travel with you, lowering until you're comfortable in the chair. you let his gaze travel the expanse of your legs; the dress you chose to wear to your date is soaked - it sticks to your thighs and reveals more than you'd expect - you don't shy away, though. when it's Joel, you can never shy away.

"what are you doin'?" he questions again, voice deep with growing interest. 

you smirk sultrily, tilting your head as you hum, propping your foot just next to his leg, on display for his gaze. 

you spread your legs gently, letting your hands explore the planes of the body you know so well; over your chest, you flick wet strands of hair away from your slick skin before skimming over your curves. a flicker of lightning in the window and Joel's eyes are darker than before; you hum, "I'm keeping you company, Joel." you simper, letting the strap of the dress slip slowly off your shoulder on one side, your hand traveling down your chest and imagining his own rough, calloused ones. "unless you'd prefer I leave?" you ask with a small pout. 

"I'd prefer if you stop bein' a brat and get the fuck over here." he snaps; patience worn thin, you just smirk, knowing he's enjoying the display of your body for him in the dark room. 

you slowly lift the hem of your skirt up, over your hips; his eyes hungrily devour the lace you wore - a treat for him at the end of your date, you'd thought - now teasing.

you make a show of slipping a hand into your underwear, gasping gently as your fingers slide through your folds. you flush at the arousal that has gathered there - there might be something to say about how turned on you get when you're pissed at Joel - yet you let yourself relax, gently moaning as you rub your sensitive clit with one finger. 

Joel sits up, his eyes dark and lip caught between his teeth as he watches you; he winces slightly, but ignores the pain, “let me.” he says, trying to sound authoritative. you just smirk, shaking your head. “no.”

Joel ought to learn to be patient.

so you resume, your finger gently sliding inside you;  it’s nowhere near how it feels when Joel touches you, but you'd never dare admit such secrets out loud. instead, you add another finger; curling them, you let out a moan, biting your lip only when you remember there is another person in the house. thankfully, the rain slams on the windows hard enough to mask what noise you've let escape your lips. 

Joel stares at you as if it's torture; you can see his own arousal growing in his pants; even as he adjusts, his brows drawn and breathing sharp. sliding the other strap off your shoulder, you let the top of your dress fall; your breasts on full display, nipples perking at the cold nip of the air. 

"god damn it," he hisses, "quit your fuckin' teasing." 

you don't, though: and he cannot conceal the groan he lets out as you push your chest out, arching your back as you start to thumb your clit. pleasure courses through you, soaking your panties as you watch Joel watch you. 

his hand barely twitches before you shake your head, "don't touch yourself." you snap, eyes sharp as you watch his palm press over his obvious hard-on. 

he glares at you. 

"y'think you can tell me what to do?" he snaps, eyes sharp though you can see the flush on his cheeks at your words. this makes you stop; instantly you're pulling your fingers out of yourself, sitting forward - his eyes widen only slightly when you stand, suddenly standing over him again. 

he is a dream - laid back, cheeks red and eyes sharp from the tease, straining nearly out of his pants in his desire. he pants, swallowing as you trail your fingernails over his chest slowly; up, higher... 

your hand wraps around his throat - it looks small, next to his tanned skin, but the way he swallows, the way his cock twitches - he loves it. you do, too. you lift a brow. "don't think I won't fucking leave you here like you left me alone at the Bison." tilting your head, you smirk. "someone has to put you in your place, right?" 

his jaw is taut as he blinks at you, not daring to argue. you tilt your head, staring at him until he rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "fine, darlin'." he grunts, "have it your way." 

his hand slides away from his crotch and with a satisfied smirk, you let go of his throat. "don't move your hand from the mattress unless you want me to leave." you snap, sending him a look, "okay?" 

his jaw ticks, as if deciding how much power to give up. he sighs sharply, "fine."

satisfied at his answer, you slide your underwear off your legs, leaving the dress on your torso.

Joel swallows hard, cheeks pink with desire as you climb up onto his lap; his eyes watch you warily, knowing you well enough to know you wouldn't give in this easily. 

and you haven't. 

instead you slide back slightly onto his thighs, relieving the brief pressure of your heat over his clothed cock; you snake your hand down, returning your fingers to your heat to find the velvety arousal waiting for you. he watches with lidded eyes and a slacked jaw. sighing, you wiggle your hips, gasping as the tips of your fingers brush your sensitive clit. your other hand rises to pinch a nipple gently, eyes locked on Joel's. he's halfway delirious - exasperated, irritated, melting with desire. 

"is this better, Joel?" your voice drips with antagonism as you slowly slip two fingers into your dripping cunt, "you wanted me close, didn't you?" 

he says nothing; watching you, his hips move with yours, providing you with friction as you touch yourself on his lap. a muttered curse under his breath until you whine gently, fingers stretching yourself as you wish it was him. 

"god damn it." he mutters, head falling against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling as if in silent prayer. you can see him searching for some god, high up there, who will take him out of this torturous pleasure. there is a burning desire, a sweet pride, knowing that you are the only one who can. "-gonna be the death of me, darlin'." 

it is not the first time he's said this. in fact, the night you first fucked around with Joel he said something very similar as you walked the patrol logs to Maria and Tommy's; the memory makes you flush, the anticipation, the butterflies, the shock. 

the first time Joel put his hands on your skin, caressed you, fucked you. 

"y'gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?" his voice always slips into that Texan accent more when he is aroused; the heat spreads over your body and goosebumps crawl over your legs as you let your head fall back - moaning his name, you thumb your clit gently. it never feels good enough when you do it yourself; hiding this truth, you hum, sending Joel a salacious smirk. "if you want me, you're going to have to beg for it." 

this seems to have brought him back to Earth, back to this bed, to remember who it is that straddles him, who it is he desires most in this town. he bristles at your play for dominance. "-oughta fuck you 'til you remember who you're talkin' to. remember your manners." he snaps - his desperation is leaking through; you can only smile knowingly as you buck your hips on his thick thighs. pleasure starts to pool in your stomach as you tilt your head back, your thumb flicking over your sensitive nipples. he watches the movement like a hawk; angry, straining with pleasure but unable to do anything against your ministrations.

you lean yourself, not daring to stop your movements - instead, your hand slips from your breast to return itself to Joel's throat; squeezing as you feel yourself tremor with ecstasy. the want in his eyes drives you forward. 

"where are your manners, old man?" you whisper, breath hot as it fans across his lips. "standing up a pretty girl like me?" you tut, shaking your head. "such a mean man. you know, I could have my pick here in Jackson-" you sigh, feeling yourself pulse with your imminent high, your fingers pumping into yourself and pleasure coursing through you. 

he lets out a sigh, a whisper upon your own lips, "-I know, baby." he grunts, hips bucking against yours, seeking any kind of friction for himself. something about his desire, how you've rendered Joel Miller completely desperate and breathless for you, nearly pushes you to the edge. 

"-fuck, 'm sorry, darlin'," he grunts; his hand grips the sheet below him, his voice quieted with the knowledge that Ellie remains somewhere in the house. You swirl your hips, nearing your high as your head tilts back; you move, your tits bouncing as you do, gasping gently. a part of you wishes to see how far you could push it - could he cum in his pants like this, barely touched? 

but a yearning desire to be filled by him overtakes that thought. 

"see-" you cut yourself off with a quiet, sweet moan, pulsing around yourself, "see how wet I am?" you spread your thighs open further, leaning back; his eyes, hungry and unrelenting, stare down at the apex of your thighs, where you've made a wet patch upon his pants, where you fuck yourself on your fingers. "yeah, baby. let me feel that pretty pussy, then." he grunts.

you lift a brow. Joel lets out a desperate moan, eyes rolling gently as you pitch your hips forward, grazing his straining cock. You eye him coyly. "where's that please you love to hear so much, Joel?" you hum, your thighs trembling as you stave off your orgasm. "or have you already forgotten how to speak?" 

his eyes strain as he resists the urge to put his palm over you - your tits, your face, your cunt - you grin in satisfaction. good. "jesus," he grunts, "lord- just-" he clenches his jaw, hips bucking up against you; you gasp at the friction it causes, pushing your palm into your clit hard. "-let me fuck you." he tries to order.

you shake your head, "beg for it." you says, breathless as you scrunch your eyes shut, nearing your orgasm. "beg for me, Joel." you say again, clenching- so close- 

his grip finds your hand, tugging you away from your seeping cunt so quick you barely know what's happening. you gasp, eyes flying open; his eyes are not nearly as sharp as they were- no, they're begging, pleading: wide, staring up at you like you floated down from Heaven above. 

"-don't cum yet, please." he says, voice breathless, "wanna feel you 'round me. promise, I'll do anything you want, anything - please." 

you could cum untouched at just the words, the arousal dripping from his lips, the way his eyes drink you in like he never wants to see anything else. 

the breath tumbles out of your lips, staring at him with satisfaction, your own cheeks flushed. "was that so hard?" you pull him in for a kiss that has him keening, tongue struggling to fight for the dominance you refuse to give up. even if it took Joel dislocating his shoulder, you will not let him take away your first real breath of control over him. you lean in to his ear, biting his lobe softly as his breath hitches, "now let go of my fucking hand." you whisper coldly. 

he drops it like dead weight. 

smirking, you lean back, lifting your fingers between you and him; your slick coats them, shining with your evident arousal and desire. you don't have to ask; he's taking your wrist gently and pushing your fingers to his lips in a second. 

you watch in awe, desire simmering deep within you as his tongue laps every drop of your arousal from your fingers, his eyes rolling back in his head, groaning gently at the taste of you. "fuck, sweetheart-" he moans and you're unsure if you've ever heard something so delicious. "please, let me feel you." 

you hum, roving your hips over his, sliding until you straddle him properly; his fist, squeezed and wanting, clenches against the sheets below him. a part of you flourishes within your chest as you watch him - so clearly aroused, yet letting you take the reins for once and doing what you say. 

experimentally, you drag a hand down his chest. careful to avoid his left shoulder, which is propped up and slung with a makeshift sling from an old t-shirt, you explore him. 

Joel has never really let you look at him very much before; you smile, eyes trailing over his puffing chest, his stomach, down to where you roll your wet cunt over the fabric of his jeans. the texture is rough - you nearly yelp as your clit catches on the cold metal button; Joel's lips quirk up in a small smirk at the noise you let out. 

you ignore his stare, not letting yourself think about how full of admiration it is at the moment; no, you let yourself bathe in the arousal, in the waiting that Joel has patiently gone through for you. your eyes find his face - that rugged, guarded expression: you see the flicker of vulnerability within them that you're slowly getting used to, that warmth that always catches on your heartbeats and makes them skip or pound just that much quicker. 

so patient now, but where was he hours ago, when he could have come told you in person he couldn't make your date, or hell even just sent Ellie? 

"somethin' wrong, baby?" he asks, voice low - his brow is similarly so, drawn over his eyes and you nearly lean to kiss the concern away; you remember the stares you'd gotten at the Tipsy Bison just an hour ago, sitting alone - another bout of irritation washes over you. "y'tired of tryin' to tell me what to do?" 

you let out a small huff, "thinkin' about what I was gonna let you do to me in the bathroom at the Bison tonight." 

it's barely a hint at anything, but his eyes shut at the image. "I'm s-" 

you really don't want to hear it - he's already apologized several times, and you forgive him. now, you're much more focused on giving what you get. "-shut up, Joel." you snap - and he does. 

jaw snapping shut, he watches you as you move on him, eyes desperate, hungry. 

you let your hand slide over the wet patch you've made to palm him, squeezing his cock experimentally. it throbs, twitches; the breath catches in his throat at your palm and you hum. he lets out a low moan when you unclasp his jeans, tugging then down enough to let his cock spring free. 

he's impossibly hard; leaking precum and throbbing, Joel stares up at you as you dance your fingertips around the course hair at the base, watching him move under you. his lips are parted, but nothing more than grunts and breaths leave them; you grin. "what's wrong, Mr. Miller?" you tilt your head, "scared you'll cum too quick?" 

his eyes roll at your sass, but whatever lip he was about to deliver is cut off when you move your hips upward; grazing over his aching cock is your wet arousal, your cunt enveloping him in your heat. it's as much a tease to him as it is to you - you're aching with need, cunt swallowing around nothing each time you slide your hips against his cock and feel it slide through your slick.

"please." it is like a breath in the wind, but it makes you smirk. your hand slides to hold his jaw, tilting his head until he looks at you straight-on - his eyes are wide and pleading, begging. it coils something very deep within you. 

"you're real handsome like this, Joel." you say, just to watch the blush over his cheeks. his brows furrow, nostrils flaring; irritated, bashful, embarrassed. "I love it when you're so desperate you can't think straight." 

he lifts a brow, not daring to say anything - you see the knowing look in his eyes, though; he loves it just as much as you do. you wonder, briefly, if he's ever really let go like this before, let someone else take control. it makes you throb to think you might be the first one. your clit brushes to head of his dick and you both gasp; your hand slides until your thumb pulls on his bottom lip. parting his mouth, he watches you expectantly - a tingle within you as you realize what he expects without having to tell you, and so you do it. spitting, you watch as your saliva mixes with his on his tongue and he groans, swallowing it quickly. 

fuck, it feels good; your slick has ruined his jeans and you've run out of patience. 

slowly, you rise to your knees and grasp his cock, giving two pumps that have his eyes shutting and swears tumbling from his bitten lips. but then, you notch him at your entrance, swallowing thickly at his size - no matter how many times you take Joel, it's always a stretch.

he feels it too, his eyes widening in bliss. "c'mon, now-" he becomes impatient; you serve him a warning look, lifting a brow. his expression is one of pure resentment and arousal - you're relieved for a moment that he truly is injured, otherwise you know your ass would be spanked completely raw and you'd probably be fucked out on the floor having alerted the whole neighborhood. 

"quit actin' like you've never done this before," he snaps, clearly fed up with playing around, "like you weren't made to slut yourself out on my cock. let me feel you." but his eyes meet yours, and he tilts his head, adding a small, sarcastic, "please."  

a shiver of desire cascades over you; irritation at him standing you up, at getting injured and not telling you, at the storm for ruining your crops - all the frustration dissipates when you sink yourself slowly onto Joel, feeling him split you open. 

you moan in tandem with him, taking him as low as you can go until you let out a short whine, feeling his cock punch your cervix. deep- he always gets so fucking deep. 

you remain slow because you know he wants it fast. a rise and fall of your hips, teasing, as he drags alongside your channels, your cunt squeezing him deliciously. you're already nearing bliss once again, eyes fluttering at the feeling; using him, taking what you need. 

his own eyes are screwed shut, jaw more tense than you've seen before; breathing heavily, it's as if he's trying to fight an orgasm already. you smirk, shaking your head, "already so close, old man?" you tut, leaning back to balance one hand on his lower thigh, the other hiking up your dress so that he can see your slick, where his cock is swallowed by your greedy pussy. 

you sigh, the feeling euphoric as his hips slowly buck to meet yours, fucking into you as you bounce on him. you try not to let your eyes roll back, taking in the slow sweetness of him filling you to the brim. "you're so fucking lucky, you know that?" you hiss, eyes knitting together. "such a fuckin' asshole, yet here I am letting you fuck me." 

he groans, head falling backwards and his free fist not wrapped in the sling fisting the sheets with a death grip. you slow your hips slightly when he doesn't respond, watching him with arousal swirling across your vision. a low fire burns bright within your core, your orgasm building up again. 

“fuck," he nearly moans it, "I know. I know. just- don’t fuckin' stop, baby.”

you've never heard him this desperate; it shoots ecstasy through your very veins, curling your toes and making you clench around him, throbbing in pleasure. "pussy's fuckin' heaven." he mutters to himself. you flutter, shivering down your spine.

"dirty man," you whimper, starting to fuck yourself onto him harder; you bite back a moan as you hear your wet cunt against him, legs beginning to shake. "how long did you know me before you decided you wanted me, hm?"

he lets out a low groan, hand flying to rake through his curls as he bucks his hips with yours. your hand flies to his cheek, landing a smack upon the apple of it. a light slap, one to make sure he's paying attention; the doe-look in his eyes makes your arousal coil, that spring getting tighter and tighter.

is this how he feels when you're underneath him, looking up at him like that? "I asked you a question." you whisper.

"m-moment I saw you," he says, "y'know that, baby." he affirms, barely able to string his words together. warmth courses through you at the admission, so free, so honest. 

"fantasized about me for months, didn't you? and now you have me, and you're leaving me all alone on our first date?" you shake your head, pushing your hair away from your face before toying with your tits once again, sighing as you shiver. you're chasing your high already, spurred on by his flustered state, by the power you've found within it. 

the rain slams on the windows outside, but you couldn't care less. 

you know he's injured; you know Joel, he wouldn't intentionally hurt you - but standing you up on your first date still stings, and you're not afraid to let him know. 

you're close to your orgasm, and Joel can tell - his thighs are thick cords of muscle beneath you as he begins to fuck up into you, tip of his cock pushing against your cervix and making you bite back a scream of pleasure. 

you cast yourself forward, avoiding his injured shoulder as you nip along his neck, tongue sliding against the damp, hot skin. "we can play games all we want, Mr. Miller," you whisper against his ear, relishing in the deep spot he hits within you, "but we both know. I own you." 

he lets out a groan at this, his hips bucking up into you; you gasp as his cock punches your cunt, hitting so deep you keen upwards, toes curling. fuck. "yeah baby, I'm yours-" his voice nearly breaks as he says it, looking as if fighting an internal war over risking further injury to his shoulder if it means pulling you down harder against him. "fuck, so fuckin' pretty like this, all mine." 

his chattermouth seems to have returned; in great time, too, as you grip the hand he's cemented to the sheets and shove it between you two, gasping as you near your high. 

"make me cum," you instruct, "make me cum, then maybe I'll let you cum. can you do that?" 

it is an echo of what he'd asked you just days ago in your own bed; with the rain pouring down, flickering in candlelight. 

"fuck," he mutters, "yes." he affirms; you nod, too blissed out to respond more. his fingers spring to life desperately, his own thrusts sloppy as he seemingly tries to stave off his own orgasm. your body is on an electric wire; every muscle clenches when his rough fingers find your clit, toying and rubbing furiously to bring you to that brink. "g-good, that's so good-" you moan, trying desperately to control the volume of your voice as you shake with pleasure. "don't fucking cum, Miller." you order, hand falling to his throat. he moans, nodding. 

"please," he says it quietly; you see the hunger, that darkness in his eyes as he strains. you gasp, a wave hitting you as he begs, "please, cum for me, pretty girl." he groans, "wanna feel it. c'mon-" 

you hit your orgasm with a gasp and a low, drawn out moan. it rolls over you in waves, pulsing, dragging you into the current and spitting you, heaving, back into the universe. he's pressed his hand over your mouth; a desperate plea to remain undiscovered, as your hand falls similarly to his mouth from his throat.

you feel his lips form your name under your fingers; it feels like home. 

his eyes fall shut in pleasure and his head tilts back, exposing the entire expanse of his throat for you to claim; he looks like fucking heaven.

you kiss Joel's neck lightly as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him steadily as his fingers fly up; too weak of desire, you let him grip the side of your thigh. "shit," he mutters, "darlin', I'm close-" 

shaking your head, you stare at him, "didn't tell you you could cum yet, did I?" 

the taste of his own medicine looks divine upon his face; the graying facial hair glinting in the rainy light outside, his thick neck on display again. he growls and it stirs something delicious within you. 

you feel your grip on reality - on your control, on him - start to loosen as your thrusts become sloppy. "Joel," you whine looking into his eyes. it's as if he snaps. 

he’s surging up, kissing you deeply as groans fall from his lips, his arm rising to your waist to hold you as you move. this position hits the perfect spot inside you that you have to bite hard on his good shoulder to avoid screaming in ecstasy. 

the rain washes away the sound of skin against skin but you feel it, you feel him everywhere. 

"I'm close," he mutters. your eyes are screwed shut; you jolt when you feel the pad of his thumb rubbing figure-eights on your clit and you nearly writhe in his hold, whispering, "don't- you'll hurt yourself."

"don't fuckin' care." he almost growls, beginning to drive up into you, tilting until your toes curl and your whole body shakes. "jus' wanna cum with you. can I cum with you, baby?" 

his voice is so desperate your eyes nearly roll back. you move your hips, chasing the high that you can feel coming. you clench, feeling the familiar feeling creeping on you, your cunt puffy and spent; hungry. his hand grips tight on the junction of your leg and hip, fingers squeezing the sides of your ass as he pulls you down onto him, grunting with his eyes closed. 

he looks angelic like this, flushed and wide-eyes as he bites his lip. your eyes meet his and you nod, "cum with me, Joel, yes-" 

you shake as you hit your high, legs giving out a bit as you pulse and clench around his cock. it immediately makes him cum, thrusting into you and shooting hot spurts deep inside you, his moan desperate and full of pleasure. "could stay with you forever," he says, voice hollow and spent, warm and tired as he pushes his length impossibly deeper into you, sending you keening. your thighs quiver, feeling the cum that leaks from you drip onto his jeans; your heart stops, a wash of flattery over you suddenly as you register his words. "keep you with me forever." 

your heart is suddenly pounding, chest heaving, eyes blissful. you stay, arms on him as his good arm stays around you, pulling your weight on top of him. his cock still throbs gently inside you as you press your cheek against his chest. 

keep you with me forever. you sigh at the thought, blinking syrupy, pressing a kiss over his chest.  

you open your mouth; in fact, the sentiment is there, unspoken and unadmitted but still lingering like clouds and sunsets and uncertainty and fear in your mind. something like love. 

but he cuts you off before you can even speak, "I'm sorry," he mumbles, lips brushing against your hairline, "I wanted tonight to be perfect. I'm sorry I got hurt, 'n I'm sorry I didn't tell ya." 

you swallow back your words, nodding, "Joel, I understand. tell me next time." 

he nods, "jus' gotta stop fucking this up." he says, voice slightly anxious. furrowing your brows, you sit up slightly; you both wince at your sore bodies, but you don't mind. frowning, you take in the melancholy that's settled now that the haze of lust as subsided. this isn't normal; trying to navigate any kind of relationship itself is difficult, let alone your rocky start with each other - god forbid you have rough patches, misunderstandings.

Joel has shown his capacity to mature, to work on himself, and you wouldn't dare write that off as nothing. you know it isn't - you know just a few of the many things Joel has seen in his time. you will learn when he is ready, but for now you wait, patient. 

"hey," you say softly, guiding his cheek in your palm. he looks at you with large eyes as you shake your head, "you care about me" you affirm. 

he nods with no hesitation, "yes, I do. I-" he cuts himself off, looking away before taking a breath, "jus' don't deserve you, s'all." 

you shrug, "well, I care about you too. that's what matters. everything else, we're just..." you purse your lips with a small smile, giddy at the thought of his words earlier; in this life, finding any kind of happiness is wholly unrealistic and more than a privilege. and yet, you have this man in front of you; a protector, a friend, a lover - things are fucked up, yes, but there isn't anything in this world that isn't. 

perhaps it's time to start maturing; perhaps it's time to start seeing things for what they are. 

"figuring it out?" he offers, looking almost hopeful. you nod; he kisses you fully, lips tasting a faint hint of your arousal from earlier. 

he hums as his hand trails over your back, up your neck. "your hair's still wet." he observes against your lips, hand carding through the strands. you nod bashfully, "was pouring out earlier." you remind him. 

he hums, "still is." he observes, chin jutting to the window. you look on, taking in the tears that slide down the panes violently; a cry from the world, though your heart is filled with something much more joyous. "s'ppose it's too late to take you to get drinks, then?" he suggests, giving you a look. you look at him wildly, "you're injured, Joel." 

he sighs, "don't matter, like I said." he argues. you huff, shaking your head, "I heard you were being babied all day, and now you want to walk down into town in the torrential downpour?" 

he stiffens, lifting a brow; you flush when you feel his semi-hard cock warm inside you. "who the hell said I was bein' a baby?" he says; you laugh. he laughs, too. it's nice. 

shaking your head, you sigh. "we'll wait until you feel better, Joel. then you can take me for as many drinks as you'd like." 

he sighs, "get'ya all the liquor left in this place if I can help it." he mutters, kissing your hairline again, "I'm sorry, again." 

you kiss his lips, knowing he means it. "I know you are." you whisper back, a hand soothing over him. his eyes are a deep honey, searching yours with vulnerability; you're reminded of his words from just moments ago and flush. 

Joel speaks up again first. "would you-" he swallows thickly, and you turn to watch him, still bathing in the afterglow of two orgasms, his cock still snug within you. his good hand slides over your spine, "would you stay the night?" he asks, eyes vulnerable, "y'can borrow some clothes." he offers, looking over your soaked dress hopefully. 

something flutters in your stomach and you nod, "sure, I'd like that." 

he's never invited you explicitly like this; you smile gently, deciding not to tease him for the blush upon your cheeks. you watch the curve of his nose, the curve of his jawline as he suppresses a bashful grin - you flicker with a stir of arousal. "can I use your shower?" you ask, eyes flickering to the bathroom that connects to his room. clearing his throat, he nods. "'course." 

you purse your lips, "can you get in the shower with your shoulder like that?" you ask; his brow lifts in interest, some kind of arousal swirling in the depths of his eyes. "for a piece of this ass?" he mutters, hand groping your left cheek hungrily, "I can at least try." 

you roll your eyes, ignoring the newly restored desire that grows between your thighs, smirking. "I should say you should take me to dinner first." 

he chuckles, "ship's sailed on that, I think." he slaps your ass, watching with sharp eyes as the flesh bounces with the impact. "I'll make y'dinner when I'm healed, though." 

you hum against his lips, sliding off of him and gasping at the feeling of his cum slipping between your thighs. you yelp lightly, grinning as you rise up and he slaps your ass again. "help clean me up first," you whisper, pressing a kiss to his nose, "then I'll consider it." 

.

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#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us (tv) #let’s chat abt mr miller #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us

[grandline-fics]

Hiiiii this is my first time requesting something so sorry if this doesn’t make any sense, but is it okay if you do some silly Headcanons of Ace, Shanks, or Crocodile with a serious s/o that is just the complete opposite when seeing something cute like a puppy??

DESCRIPTION: You’re completely serious until you see something cute

WARNINGS: nothing comes to mind

CHARACTERS: Ace, Shanks, Crocodile

WORDS: 1,933

A/N: Thank you for this request, sorry you had to wait so long for this and I hope you like how it turned out.

I've been making the most of this burst of energy and feeling well by getting as much writing done as I can. Here's hoping it lasts. As always thank you all for reading. Enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

ACE

You were a naturally serious person and you couldn’t help it. Sure you enjoyed spending time with the people you loved and cared about but when it came to expressing that emotion, especially a smile that went beyond the brief upturn of the corner of your mouth it was a rare occurrence. You made no turn to apologise for your personality, those that knew you had no doubt about how loving and loyal you were and they wouldn’t change you for anything. Ace especially adored you just the way you were. Besides he was the one that smiled constantly so he would always say you both balanced each other out perfectly. 

There was also another reason why he liked how your smile and expressions of light-heartedness were so rare. He loved that they were mostly reserved for him and if anyone else got to see them then they’d try and take you from him. Obviously Ace knew that was impossible but he still liked to think of something that was intimately yours and his. However one day Ace and the rest of the crew stumbled across a sure fire way to get passed your natural stoicism completely by accident and it was all Ace’s doing. 

“Hey check it out! My little brother’s crew got posters!” Ace called out the the crew one day with a proud grin as he read over the story that accompanied the Strawhat crew’s introductory bounties. Playfully you rolled your eyes despite your expression remaining as calm as always as you approached your boyfriend. You’d heard him talk countless times about his little brother and had heard about the small crew he’d assembled from the time Ace briefly reunited with them in Alabasta but apart from the Captain and his second in command, Zoro you hadn’t seen their appearances until now. 

“They attacked Enies Lobby?” You asked, letting out a low whistle of respect at the new crew’s reckless actions. The rest of the crew listening finally took notice too, all of them could repeat Ace’s adoring speeches about Luffy word for word by now so hadn’t really taken noticed of the second division commander’s announcement until now. “At least they know how to get the world’s attention.” You mused, taking the pile of posters into your hand to inspect the totals. Your eyes flicked over the likes of Luffy, Zoro, and Robin with familiarity. They already had bounties so it was nothing new. For Sanji, Nami, Franky, and Usopp you took in their features to recognise them in future. In Ace’s mind his little brother’s crew were like family too.

Finally you pulled out the last poster and a strange noise broke from your lips, startling everyone in the crew as they looked at you. The noise had been shocking enough but to see your eyes all but sparkling and giddy smile light your face threw them off even more. “He’s so cute!” You grinned at the picture of Chopper in your hands, overcome by the adorable reindeer. “Ace! Why did you hide this from me!”

“I did!” Ace protested, recovering faster than the others since he’d been privileged to see this side of you before. “I told you there was a reindeer thing on Luffy’s crew!” Wincing when you lightly flicked his forehead.

“He’s not a thing! He’s adorable!” You admonished before smiling broadly at the bounty photo again. ”He looks so soft, I just want to hug him.” Ace watched you with a deepening pout, jealous suddenly of a photo and hoped you and the reindeer never crossed paths.

SHANKS

Sometimes your seriousness felt like a curse when you were on Shanks’ crew. While everyone else followed their Captain’s whims of adventure and revelry without any thought of consequences or limitations, you felt alone at times in being the one to offer a voice of reason when the occasion called for it. While you knew your crew was an immensely strong one, practically undefeated you also knew how quickly the tide could turn against anyone who wasn’t careful. In the unpredictability and cruelty of the life you’d all chosen for yourselves, it was better to be safe than sorry. When you and Shanks became a partnership in a physical and romantic sense, that weight of having to be the serious and level-headed one only seemed to increase. 

Thankfully Shanks was the perfect partner to have, even before you were a couple he would boast to anyone that would listen that he knew you’re every emotion despite the neutral and serious expression you had. As imperceivable as you appeared to many, Shanks could read you like a book. It was also a little infuriating that he knew your weaknesses and what would make you show your feelings a little more to others. You don’t even know how it happened but Shanks liked to make a game out of it, whoever could make you a full smile got anything they wanted. Obviously Shanks wasn’t allowed to take part and the game was only when you permitted it such as when you were all in a safe territory. In all the crew’s attempts no-one had ever won. 

On one evening you sat beside Shanks as you waited patiently for the others to start making their first of many turns to get a reaction out of you. As always, everyone that was taking part was filled with swagger and ‘had the winning technique’ but after a couple hours with your expression as unmoving as always, the bolster had ebbed into mass dejection and turning to their drinks for consolation. The only people truly enjoying their night were those that knew better than to try and Shanks who laughed happily and pulled you close. “Imagine if they found out how easy it was.” He grinned in your ear. Quickly you glanced at him, amusement in your eyes while you expression was masterfully neutral. 

Just as you were about to relax you heard a rustling behind you and you looked towards the noise while the others paid no notice. Which was why they hadn’t known what took your attention until you’d gotten out of your seat to investigate and you let out a surprised squeal when you found what it was. Having never heard the sound from you before the crew was frozen in place and their eyes bugged out when you reappeared, the largest adoring smile on your face aimed at the bundle of fur in your arms. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Ben muttered as he watched you settle back into your seat beside Shanks, your attention raptly on what he now saw what the answer to Shanks’ game was. “A kitten? They smile for a kitten.”

“Well anything cute, but yeah.” Shanks grinned, looking over your shoulder to lightly scratch under the kitten’s chin as it purred. 

“He’s just like you Shanks, look.” You cooed, the smile never leaving your face as you adjusted the kitten against your chest to show it only had three legs. “He’s coming with us, by the way.” You added before getting lost in pouring affection onto the tiny creature. Shanks let out a small amused huff. All the other times you’d pleaded to bring all the cute animals you came across onto the ship, he had to restrain himself from giving in to your every wish and tell you no, this time however there was no room for arguing and he wasn’t going to if it meant he got to enjoy your smile more.  

CROCODILE

“Crocodile, you might want to go to do some damage control before they murder someone.” Crocodile looked up from his stack of paperwork to see Mihawk had already left his doorway. There was only one person that the swordsman would warn him about, you. With a heavy breath he rose and walked down the hallway and opened the door to see you sitting at your desk, papers fisted tightly in one hand while the other was clamped against your head as you tried to rub the knot causing a tension headache away. Slowly you lifted your head at stared at your lover with cold fury. 

“If that clown blows the budget I’ve assigned him one more time I’ll kill him and I don’t care how valuable he is to the face of this business.” You seethed, watching him approach and set himself against the edge of the large desk. You eyed him evenly watching as a growing smirk appeared on his handsome face. Obviously you didn’t share his humour in this situation but then again you were the outwardly colder of the couple. Compared to your constantly serious expression, Crocodile came across as a sweetheart. When his large hand fell over yours and lightly coaxed your fist to relaxed you only then realised how tightly you’d been holding the now wrecked papers. With a sigh you discarded them with a swipe before returning your hand to Crocodile’s hold. “Out of curiosity, is there anyway we can just get rid of him and hire a normal clown to take his place?”

“As much as I’d love to fulfil your wish, my love sadly he’s needed and the Marines would notice a fake.” Crocodile chuckled.

“You give them too much credit.” You muttered evenly, you had more faith in Buggy’s ability to stick to a spending budget than you did in the Marines as a whole. You glared at your ruined paperwork that had caused your anger and the untouched bundle of work that you couldn’t bring yourself to touch. Sitting back in your seat, you dropped your free hand to pinch the bridge of your nose while your eyes closed slowly. 

“Headache still there?” He asked, watching you nod. Crocodile made a note to punish Buggy in his own way later on but at this moment you were the priority and he grinned triumphantly when the surprise he was withholding until later on was now just what you needed. Crocodile stood and pulled your hand, a silent request for you to stand. “Come on, I know what will help.”

“Unless it’s putting a sea prism stone boot up the clown’s ass I’m not in the mood.” 

“Oh come now, entertain me.” Crocodile urged smoothly, leading you out of the office and down the corridors. “I’ve never steered you wrong have I?”

“Apart from seducing me, corrupting my innocent soul, and leading me into a life of crime? No.” You said sarcastically earning a laugh from your lover. The only thing he was guilty of in that list was seducing you. You were already a criminal and far from innocent when he met you. 

When you both approached the basement you gave Crocodile a suspicious look before realisation hit you. Without him needing to say anything you hurried into the area only you and he entered, the Bananawari enclosure. You approached the warmest section and gasped in excitement to see heavy cracks had appeared in the cluster of eggs in the centre. Crocodile smirked as he stood beside you, it seemed your timing couldn’t have been more perfect. In moments the eggs broke open and the newest additions of his pets appeared eliciting an excited laugh from you. With a bright smile that only Crocodile got to see you started to talk affectionately to the newborns as someone else would a puppy or baby. To him there was no better sight in the world.

“Oh you’re all so precious, yes you are.” You grinned. “Would you all like to meet your dear, possibly delicious Uncle Buggy?”

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#one piece #one piece fic #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #one piece x you #one piece imagines #one piece fanfiction #portgas ace x you #shanks x you #crocodile x you #ace x you #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace #ace one piece #fire fist ace #shanks x reader #shanks one piece #shanks #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #sir crocodile x you #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile one piece #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader #crocodile one piece #crocodile op

[mochidoie]

the summer of us ☼

kim doyoung x reader wc - 8.6k genre - slow burn, fluff, slightly angsty, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining warnings - kiss scene a/n - italicized sections are written as flashbacks, while regular texts correspond with the present

You and Doyoung reunite at your high school reunion. Him, just as he has always been. You, bolder but just as beautiful. Upon meeting again, the memories of the one summer you two shared during your college years resurface, along with the same romantic feelings that never had a proper ending. Will that summer love find its way back to your present?

The only people who show up to high school reunions are those who used to be popular and lonely individuals. It’s the people who reminisce about their glory days in the tight hallways and how everyone knew their name. It’s for the people who currently have no one back in their hometown and are looking to rekindle old flames or friendships. Doyoung was neither one of these, and yet, here he is standing in the middle of his old high school gymnasium amongst his past peers and barely making out familiar faces in this mood lighting.

There were predictable appearances: Johnny was King of the Field, wore his letterman jacket nearly every day of senior year until the leather wore out and crusted off. Mina was captain of the cheerleading squad, admired by many but envied by most. Jaehyun was the campus sweetheart, confession letters and gifts would flood out of his locker on Valentine’s day. 

They are all holding onto that piece of glory, making remarks on how they wish they could go back in time to experience it all over again. Nothing in their current lives gives them that same thrill. It’s sad and for a brief moment, Doyoung genuinely pitied them. 

Some unexpected faces took him by surprise: Taeyong was his lab partner for most of his projects, his mind was always on a creative tangent at such a young age. Yuta was the underrated soccer star, he was humble in his skill, but extremely competitive in everything he did. Haechan was that underclassman that never hung out with his own grade, but he could crunch numbers faster than anyone in the school.

And you. You, who walked in with a dress that fit perfectly and painted lips that curved into a sweet smile, a smile that Doyoung found himself wanting a glimpse of throughout the night. You were quiet and so much more timid back then, always trying to blend into the background of things.

Nonetheless, Doyoung had shared the same sentiments except an unlikely friendship with Mark really gave him a leg up in high school with the popular crowd. But, Doyoung always saw you and formed a silent camaraderie between the two of you without your knowledge. 

Why would you come? He didn’t understand. If it wasn’t for Mark’s insanely theatrical pleas to attend, Doyoung would happily be on his couch watching his reality dating shows. It seemed out of character and some could say the same for him. However, Doyoung didn’t actually know you well enough to understand your reasoning. 

Mark nudges Doyoung, “hey… who is that?” Gesturing toward your figure by the makeshift bar, Doyoung tries to think how to formulate your identity to Mark. Did Mark even know of your existence prior? Doyoung thought. 

“I think it’s… y/n?” He doesn’t sound confident, in fact, there is a slight quiver when he says your name. Mark confusingly stares at Doyoung and he can read his mind before Mark even asks.

“Who?” 

Rolling his eyes, he patiently explains. “Junior year chemistry. I’m pretty sure you two sat next to each other in class.” Doyoung brings his glass to his lips. 

Mark tilts his head, an expression of great pondering on his face. Unconsciously, Doyoung’s eyes follow you at every step. He is still trying to process seeing how much you’ve changed. 

“How did you remember something like that?” Mark laughs, biting the cookie he has been rolling between his fingers. 

Doyoung shrugs nonchalantly, “I had to stare at your big head the whole period and all the posers who tried to be your best friend during class.” It isn’t a complete lie, Doyoung did pay attention to his good friend during class, but only because he had to sit a few rows behind him.

He isn’t going to reveal the silent alliance he created between the two of you. The two quiet ones, navigating the world of high school in their own way and trying to graduate without a trace of who they were during those years. That’s what Doyoung wanted for himself.

“We should catch up, what do you say?” Mark suggests to Doyoung. You’ve made your way toward the center of the draped tables, trapped between Johnny and Jaehyun. Those two idiots probably have no recollection of who you are. “You can reintroduce me.” 

Doyoung scoffs, “you don’t need an introduction. You’re literally valedictorian Mark Lee.” The two of them make their way toward you. With every step closer, Doyoung’s throat dries up. If there is any need for liquid courage, it would be now. 

The truth is that Doyoung has exchanged several small conversations with you during your adolescence, so you two are acquaintances at best. However, there was one summer between the first and second year of college where the two of you ran into each other quite frequently. It was enough to where the two of you were actually friends, one could even argue more than that.

Doyoung always hated the heat that came with summers at home. It was partially the reason why he decided to go away for college in a city without changing seasons. Beads of sweat run down the sides of his forehead as he seeks air conditioning in a crowded gelato shop.

He had just finished an intense soccer match with Yuta. It probably was one of the worst decisions to do during the highest temperatures of the year. The copious amount of sunscreen has most likely melted off of his body with the amount of sweat he was producing and all his water dried up from sitting in the sun. 

He digs in his pockets for spare change for the sweet treat, not thinking how much he would be suffering from the hot weather. 

“I can help the next person.” A voice calls and Doyoung is frantically rummaging through his pockets for more bills. When he looks up, a familiar face shares a slightly shocked expression over the fridge counters. You call his name and instantly, Doyoung feels flushed at your great memory. 

Your name tag hangs crookedly on your apron and Doyoung recognizes it immediately. “Hey! It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have expected to bump into you.” Your giddiness warms Doyoung’s chest. He had forgotten how inviting you were the moment you would speak. Your features were slightly the same, but definitely a bit older. You weren’t wearing your glasses and your hair was neatly pulled into a ponytail. 

“I just came back for the summer.” Doyoung pulls out some loose change, damp from his sweaty hands. “When did you work here?”

“I started the summer after we graduated. I come back during the breaks to help out.” Before Doyoung could respond, a voice cuts the feverish reunion and reminds him he is holding up the line for gelato. 

You chuckle timidly to yourself, “anyways, what can I get you?” 

Doyoung, now pressured by the line of impatient customers, chooses his favorite mango sorbet before he could glance at any other options. When you ring him up, he counts his change in his palm and groans. 

“Ah, I’m short two dollars. It’s okay, I won’t get it. I’m sorry to waste your time.” Doyoung pouts, ready to hide under a rock for being a complete embarrassment the first time you are seeing each other again.

You grasp his wrist quickly, “Wait, it’s on me.” Placing the cone in his hand, you fiddle with something on the register and smile sweetly at him. 

Doyoung feels the world stop and can’t find the words to express his gratitude. “Thanks.” He whispers, deer eyes wide and mouth open. 

“No problem. It was good seeing you again, Doyoung.” You’re already trying to move on to help the next available customer, while Doyoung mindlessly blinks at the cone in his hand. It was really nice seeing you and he wonders to himself if there could be another chance. 

It’s a relief when Mark saves you from the conversation with Johnny and Jaehyun. He does so happily and cluelessly at the tactics of their flirting and lack of your identity. It actually almost comes to a shock to you that Mark remembered you, not that the two of you shared any conversation between one another during class. It isn’t until your eyes fall upon the other individual behind him. 

All tall and lean, Doyoung stands before you after all this time. The memories of that one summer together flash by in a millisecond and all the feelings come rushing back like adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Then, a mixture of disappointment and sadness fill your heart, gazing upon Doyoung’s stare, it’s apologetic. With Mark’s chirpiness in the way, you try your best to pretend that you and Doyoung had no prior affairs. 

“Wow, can you believe how long it’s been? My mom still talks about your valedictorian speech, Mark.” Doyoung can see right through you. The fakeness is full in your tone, like you’re trying so hard to convince everyone that you’re fine and after all this time, alright with seeing Doyoung. 

“Yeah, that speech. I swear I blacked out because I can’t even remember it.” Mark laughs, rubbing the back of his neck in a shy manner. “But how have you been, y/n?” 

“I’ve been good. Busy with work and enjoying life at the same time.” Keeping your answer vague, you direct your attention to Doyoung. “How have you been?” 

He is taken aback by the sudden shift, despite very clearly being part of this three way conversation without any contribution other than his presence. Clearing his throat, he begins with, “good. I’ve been busy with work too.”

Mark continues, poking at Doyoung’s arm to slightly tease him. “This guy became a workaholic after we graduated college. He is the first person I knew that got a job right away and has been slaving away since.” 

Doyoung feels embarrassed as his friend describes the lamest life that he has been living. He almost speaks up to defend himself or mention how all those years of hard work has earned him a golden plaque for his loyalty with the company. 

“That’s really impressive, Doyoung.” Your breathy compliment causes his heart to skip a beat. He looks at you, noting the sadness in your eyes. “I’ve been jumping around jobs for awhile. It’s been hard figuring out what I want to do with my career, sometimes I think back on how easy life was when I was scooping gelato.”

Gelato takes Doyoung back to that summer again. All the warm nights he waited for you to close up the shop, how your clothes would smell like sweet waffle batter, and you’d always come out with a scoop of mango sorbet just for him. All the nights he wished he was brave enough to kiss you. 

“Doyoung, you don’t have to wait for me!” Your smile doesn’t leave your face upon seeing him outside the shop, hands in his pockets and head up high watching the stars. At this point, it’s routine that the boy would show up five minutes before closing time and patiently wander outside until you were ready to leave.

You thought it was a coincidence to bump into him after one of your shifts, but he kept showing up. After a few times, you began to realize that he was intentionally waiting for you. Never questioning why, Doyoung walked you home every night as you two reminisced about the moments in high school or new memories you both had made in college.

Slowly, you two got to know each other very well. Doyoung told you about his dreams and you told him about your family. He knew your closest friends and your favorite memories about them. You knew facts about his brother and their upbringing, family traditions during holidays and vacations spent at the ski lodge despite not knowing how to ski. 

Occasionally, the two of you would stop by boardwalk and walk down to the beach. Doyoung would pat off the sand to the bench for you to sit beside him. You’d keep a respectable distance, with your hands in your lap and hair blowing in the warm wind. Doyoung’s eyes would sparkle along with the street lamps and you’d both be secretly enchanted by one another. 

These were the summer nights that you wished upon the moon and stars that Doyoung would kiss you. 

“You worked at the gelato shop by the boardwalk?” Mark asked, excited and completely oblivious to the can of worms he is about to open leading with that question. 

Chuckling, you glance sly at Doyoung. “Yes, it was my summer job. My sister knew the manager that worked there, so I’d help out during the summer when I came home.”

Mark lightly slaps Doyoung on the chest and he coughs at the sudden impact, jolting and nearly spilling the drink in his hand. “Doyoung used to rave about the mango sorbet at that place, didn’t you?”

Doyoung nodded. It comes as a confirmation to you that Mark doesn’t know anything that happened between you and Doyoung that summer. You’re all laughing awkwardly, Doyoung a bit more nervously than you and Mark.

“Yeah and he’d always say how it was his favorite of all time, that nothing could compare–”

“--Okay, Mark. I think we can drop the mango sorbet debate.” Doyoung firmly pats Mark on the shoulder to get him to please shut the fuck up. He couldn’t take any more of his friend’s clueless babbling, especially not to you about all the subliminal messages.

“It’s good. They make it in house, peeled over a hundred mangoes in the back every morning.” Speaking very matter of factly, your face is full of angst. 

Mark and Doyoung blink at you in disbelief. He feels bad about all the nights you’d get him a scoop, not knowing you practically worked away your life for it. “Wait, seriously?”

“No.” You laugh and your face lightens up, “that would be actual hell if I did. We had frozen mangoes with a premade syrup.” Doyoung forgot about your humor and how much he enjoyed it. He found himself laughing along, thinking about how melodic your sounds of happiness are.  

In the midst of your chuckles, someone calls for Mark from across the auditorium. He excuses himself and hurries joyfully over to another old classmate. The air instantly becomes suffocating between you and Doyoung. Without a third party there to ignore the elephant in the room, the two of you avert eye contact and stand stiffly. 

“So..” Doyoung clears his throat, unsure how to work around the awkwardness. “Why did you decide to come? I never thought I’d see you at something as lame as this.” 

“Are you implying I’m too cool to show up here?” He got you to relax a bit, earning a small chuckle at how he phrased his question. Your shoulders drop the tension that caused it to stick by your chin. 

“Of course.” You weren’t necessarily popular back in high school, so you had no reason to come back and gloat about the past. He isn’t sure about your current social life, but surely it isn’t lonely enough to want to come back and rekindle old ones, especially with these amateurs. 

“Well, I appreciate that thought. I had a feeling you’d be here.” Your eyes wander the floor, calculating your next words very carefully. While you had no idea how Doyoung feels about you right now, you wanted to test the waters. If it comes to be bad, then you can avoid him for the rest of your life. If it turns out well, who knows? There wouldn’t be another missed chance.

“Oh god, I’m so uncool that you’d expect me to show up?” Doyoung pretends to be offended, or maybe he actually is. You aren’t sure, but he holds his hand to his chest as if he is. “I’ll have to rebrand myself going forward.”

“No, no. It’s not you. I saw Mark tag you in the comments of the announcement post.” Peering up, Doyoung lets out an exasperated sigh at the fact that Mark was the culprit. He should’ve known that Mark basically announced their attendance via social media. “So, I figured you might show up.” 

“It is a hundred percent Mark. He dressed me himself and dragged me out the door to come to this.” He rolls his eyes and finishes his drink in one big gulp. 

Doyoung scans the room one last time at all the people that came to the reunion. To his surprise, there was a decent amount of attendees and everyone looked like themselves more or less. Everyone remained recognizable to a degree, but no one made an entrance like you did. 

Then, the conversation clicks in his head. Like someone turned the lights on in his head, he understands the intent behind your responses. You didn’t come to see him, perhaps? 

It is as if you could see the gears in his mind turn in real time. You smile and close the distance between the two of you. “I came to this lame reunion because I wanted to see you again.” 

And like that, Doyoung is brought back to the world stopping feeling he felt several years ago in that gelato shop, your hand on his wrist and a cone of mango sorbet in his hand. His eyes resembled a baby deer in headlights and his mouth agape. His heart is loud in his ears and pressure in his throat. 

He isn’t sure how he should proceed. Doyoung fumbled his chances with you long ago, at least that’s what he had thought. Barely processing your confession, he stammers over his words. 

“Want to head out?” 

A wide grin spreads across your lips, lifting your cheeks high on your face. “What about Mark?”

“He’ll manage.” Doyoung doesn’t even look for his good friend in the crowd, knowing that Mark was going to leave him for a random old acquaintance sooner or later into the night. This, however, was an opportunity Doyoung didn’t know he’d ever come across again. “I’ve waited long enough to have a chance like this again.” 

Your eyes light up at his statement, like a spark to a new flame erupting inside of you. Doyoung extends his hand for you to take and softly, you accept his grip and let him guide you outside of that dreary gymnasium. 

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“Did you know that Bethany had the biggest crush on you?” Kicking your feet in the air, you’re giggling at the silly high school secrets you had always kept to yourself. Doyoung shoots up from the blanket on the sand and turns to face you, utterly horrified by the new piece of old information. 

You had an early shift today and managed to catch the sunset with Doyoung. He had brought his picnic blanket for you two to enjoy the views right on the beach. The pink and orange hues paint the sky above you, faint sounds of seagulls in the distance and of waves crashing against the shore set the mood. 

You two could talk for hours, without a care in the universe and any concept of time. Doyoung is mesmerized by your perspective and way with words. You’re astonished by the wisdom and empathy Doyoung holds. From one quiet kid to another, you two sure felt comfort in each other. 

“Blonde Beth?!” Doyoung exclaims.

You sit up with him, matching the higher level of energy. “Yes. She was so into you!”

He blinks in disbelief, never thinking someone like Bethany would have a crush on him in high school. Not that he is any better now, but he isn’t sure how well he was perceived in his adolescents. “How did you know?”

“You’re always such a skeptic.” Your eyes watch the horizon. The round, golden sun barely hits the glimmering water. “I sat at the same table as her and her friends in math class. She talked about you quite often.”

Doyoung follows your gaze toward the sunset. He contemplates long and hard. “What a strange crush.”

Scoffing, you briefly glance over at him. There, Doyoung sits with his knees hugged to his chest and a look of deep thought. The sun kisses his skin so lovingly, highlighting his sharp facial features. The light breeze blows his tousled bangs over his forehead. Doyoung looks like he was chiseled by the gods, just absolutely unreal. 

It strikes you like a chord. In the midst of this summer sunset, you were falling for Doyoung. 

When he peers over and meets your eyes, something drops in the pit of your stomach. A sudden shyness accompanies your chest and it compels you to look away, but you remain locked in and lost in his starry pupils. You find yourself breathless, mouth open to speak but words caught in your throat.

Nonetheless, you catch yourself before it becomes suspicious. “W-Why would it be strange?” Gulping, your mind is running circles at your realization. 

“Because I swear she hated me. I would always beat her by one point in our exams and there was always a rivalry between us.” Doyoung ponders, barely able to make out the memories of the girl from his classes. He never acknowledged her enough to remember. 

He hears your chuckle, snapping his attention at you. “You’re so dense. She probably had an enemies to lovers type thing going on for you.” 

“A what?��� Doyoung snarls.

“Enemies to lovers… like you hated each other so much that you ended up liking them.” Your voice grows small at the ridiculous explanation. You may have revealed too much of your personal interests and hobbies to a boy who only reads textbooks and self help books.

It was Doyoung’s turn to laugh, but right in your face at the silly description. “Is that something you like reading in your literature?” 

“Perhaps. I’ve already said too much.” You fume, laying back down on the blanket. Your back hits the firm sand with a thud and you close your eyes out of embarrassment.

“I’ll confirm with you right now that I’m more of a friends to lovers type guy. I can never hate someone so much that I end up liking them. My disdain for them would linger.” The blanket shifts a bit underneath you. When you open your eyes, he is hovering over you with a kind grin.

A veiny arm is situated by either side of your head. You nearly gasp at the sudden perspective of Doyoung above you, keeping your own arms close to your chest. Your heart races quickly, anticipating his next move. 

“You’re not trying to fall asleep on the beach, right?” He laughs, his chain slipping out of his shirt and dangling from his neck. “If you’re tired, let me walk you back.”

A rush of flustered emotions cascade over your weak body. Dizziness quickly accompanies your head, like the sight of Doyoung looking dreamily above you is enough to cause you to faint. You pat your hot cheeks, giving small slaps to wake you from this embarrassing feeling you’re experiencing over a friend.

Doyoung laughs at your gesture, oblivious to why you’re just hitting yourself. “Enough, don’t want you to hurt your pretty face.” 

Like a straw to a camel’s back, that is the last thing you’ll let yourself get ruffled over. Sitting up, you’re inches from Doyoung’s lips. He blinks at your sudden proximity and immediately widens his eyes.

Gulping, your breath dances softly on his cherry red pout. “Let’s go.”

He follows your lead, grabbing his blanket in a swift motion and dusting off the sand from the fabric. Nonetheless, you don’t wait around or help him. Instead, you’re already up on the curb and recollecting everything that just happened, all the feelings that had surfaced. Confused, but excited to feel your heart bursting with the rays of the summer sun.

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“So, this is where you live. I remember requesting a tour for one of the units when it was in its developmental phase. I’m happy to see that it lives up to the pictures and that someone I know lives here.” You walk around Doyoung’s living room aimlessly, pinching at the cover of the couch, dusting your finger on the window shades, inspecting the ceiling fixtures. 

“You’re restless. Take a seat before you spot something that will cause me to hyperfixate.” He chuckles, patting the seat next to him on the sofa and placing a glass of water for you on a cute coaster. 

For a brief moment, you hesitate sitting so close to him. It wasn’t like all the ill feelings you held simply disappeared upon seeing him. There is still a part of you that didn’t forgive him, didn’t wish to be so friendly again.

Nonetheless, Doyoung had always been attentive and observant. He catches on immediately, scooting over to another chair that had a big stuffed penguin plush. Clearing his throat, he gestures to the spot once more now that he created a comfortable distance. “Why did you decide on another place?”

“It was closer to my ex at the time.” Your casualness catches Doyoung off guard, as he watches you finally take a seat. “He kept complaining about our commute to each other and I was in need of a new apartment fast, so it just settled that way.” 

Doyoung nods, like he understands despite not fully. He can’t imagine moving closer for anyone beside himself or going without a compromise from both parties. “Then, does your ex still live near you?”

“No, I told him to move far away so that I would never have to see him again. I’m all about setting boundaries.” The person Doyoung knew you to be would never have been that bold, would not have known how to set boundaries firmly. Like an ember catching a light, a spark appears in his eyes as he takes in your physicalities again. 

Now under proper lighting, Doyoung can really see all of you. The dress did more for you than he had noticed before, bringing out your confidence and kissing your skin tone. The satin on your lips is seductive, but saccharine paired with your smile. Voluminous curls frame your face perfectly and when he finally takes a long look at your features – he is astonished all over again at how beautiful you are. 

He clears his throat, “boundaries are important.” It’s all he can say while still enamored by your newfound confidence and looks.

“What about you? Have you been in any relationships since we last saw each other?” 

Doyoung tries to piece together his response delicately, mostly because he didn’t want to sound like a complete loner and corporate loser. Truthfully, after the summer together, Doyoung could not stop thinking about you. It was an endless cycle of wanting to reach out again, but he never found it in himself to do so. When you nearly fell off the face of the digital world, he tried to put his efforts into other people. 

Failing horribly, he couldn’t find anything remotely close to what you and he had shared in a few months. A connection so powerful and genuine, a fresh breath of air that filled his lungs every time he thoughtfully inhaled. A feeling that warmed not only his skin, but his heart that he no longer despised the hot weather. Doyoung found himself looking for you in everyone he met, only to be faced with utter disappointment when they were nowhere close.

With all his withered attempts at romance, he gave up. He settled on being alone for this portion of his life and didn’t desire that fleeting feeling of romance he had once felt. Because at the end of all his days, he’d come home to this empty apartment and pretend to be content with himself when he had lost the opportunity to be with you. 

So when he begins with his calculated reply, he mentally prepares himself for your reaction. “I haven’t. I’m married to my work.” His eyes flicker at your expression, trying to make out the sympathy in your pupils and dip in your frown.

“You haven’t changed at all.” When you examine Doyoung, he is just as you remembered him that summer. With his sharp features, quick wit, quiet demeanor and all of his dedication, Kim Doyoung remains exactly like how he had left you that temperate night.

He is all the man that you had fallen for and longed for in your present. It’s a bit sad all the times you would wallow in it — the crush that became undying on a man who only smiled brighten when you were around. A man who is intelligent, trivial, and hungry for success that he is willingly to dedicate his entire life to it. Yet, he is a man who is also kind, soft, and attentive to others around him that caring for others comes second nature to him. 

With the time that has passed since you two last spoke, you had wondered if he had changed to be more cynical, withholding his heart and laughter to those who tried to grow close to him or if he had opened up and shared his kindness to someone who is worthy of it. To your countless of painted possibilities, Doyoung had done neither and a part of you finds immense comfort in him all over again. 

Doyoung isn’t sure how to interpret your statement. Greatly puzzled, he tilts his head and asks, “is that a bad thing?” Swallowing the lump of spit gathered in his throat, he anxiously overthinks your implications.

Instantly, you note his change from relaxed to tense. His jaw is clenched as he crosses his legs, neatly folding his hands together and resting them on his lap. You’ve made him uneasy, but it only makes you chuckle at how unnerved he is. 

So when you answer him, he is vastly surprised and speechless. “No, I’ve always liked you the way you are.”

He ponders and lets the adrenaline take its course of action. Without another thought or hesitation, he matches your boldness. “You’ve changed.” 

The proclamation feels sudden, so much that it genuinely catches you off guard. There is a slight whiplash you experience with how quick Doyoung’s words hit you. Although there is no accusatory tone that lingers, there is some sense of self consciousness. 

“Is that bad?” You take his same words to use against him. Instead of feeling tense and perceived, you somehow feel defensive. All the years that you two haven’t encountered one another, you’ve worked hard to be the person you love now. 

You acknowledge how quiet and hidden you were in the past. The person that never wanted to be noticed, often wanting to hide behind their hair or clothes. You used to speak just barely above a whisper, scared that any louder would draw the unwanted attention of others around. Only spoke when spoken to, only looked up when tapped, that was just the way you were. 

High school was never a comfortable time for you, but wasn’t it like that for everyone? Seemingly awkward and unrevealing to who someone truly is. It had been a feeling that troubled you greatly, that you felt fearful to be too bold, too audacious. You couldn’t wait to graduate silently and move on from that version of yourself.

“No, no. It’s not bad at all.” Doyoung puts his hands up, waving them in a worrisome manner. He settles back into his seat, sitting back against the bouncy cushion and leaning his chin on his fist.

There is a brief stiffness in the air, like Doyoung had more to say. Watching his eyelashes flutter over at you, he eats you up under his long gaze. You shift oddly in your place, heart pounding in your throat and feeling slightly flushed under his spotlight. 

He speaks with a low voice, but it is gentle and firm. “I think I see you more clearly now.” His eyes trail down to your toes and back up to the curls that frame your face. An audible gasp escapes your lips, a lack of words fallen upon you.

With every second spent with Doyoung, it has slowly eroded away at the resentment and sadness you felt prior. You wish for nothing more than to be closer to him, to feel his fingertips dance across your hot skin. This is not a foreign feeling, but one that you knew too well. 

“Funny that you only see me now when I had been right in front of you for an entire summer.” Fumbling with your purse, you peer away from his sultry stare. The air in the room suffocates you, like a sticky humid day.

“You misinterpret my statement.” He is quick to answer. “I have always seen you. The person who tried so hard to fade in the background in high school, the person who was still trying to figure themselves in college, and now, the person you fully find yourself to be.” 

There is a heaviness that fills your chest, like guilt that you had held such a tremendous grudge after so long. Wallowing in your angst, you try to process his words thoughtfully. When you don’t say anything, Doyoung’s voice continues on and his heart fills his words.

“You know, I go back to that summer every year, just recalling and regretting.” Doyoung sighs, emptying his lungs into one breath. He finally feels ready to address the elephant in the room, the words he never said. With you as beautifully before him once again, Doyoung never dared to imagine this chance because he knew he didn’t deserve it. 

“What would you have done differently?” You seldomly ask. 

And when you glimpse up at him with glossy eyes, Doyoung’s confession pours from his lips effortlessly. “I’d tell you how you made me feel – seen and whole. Because I knew you saw me too and accepted me with all my flaws. It’s like you saw my soul and understood me for the person I was. Then, I’d kiss you, I’d kiss you like the world was ending.”

“Desperately and holding onto the last glimpse of hope?” Chuckling, your heart literally feels like it could burst any second looking at him. 

Doyoung stands up, taking small steps forward and closing the distance between you two. Making room for him to sit next to you, his knee radiates heat against your own. He smiles sweetly, “desperately, yes, but as if nothing else mattered than being there with you in that moment.”

Finally face to face, it feels impossible to resist each other’s aura. “I would like that.” Your eyes flicker from his lips to his pupils. His eyebrows raise slightly and like clockwork, the gears in his head are spinning at full force until everything clicks.

Without another thought or a second to lose, Doyoung pulls you toward him by your wrist and your lips land hastily on top of his. Staining him with the color of your lipstick, you’re gliding effortlessly. Immediately, all the romantic feelings from that summer flood both of your chests’.

Doyoung kicks the sand that loosely piles the boardwalk. His hands shoved into his shorts as his attention turned to the sound of your voice. This night between the both of you feels weirdly melancholy. It was a third of the way into summer and you were the only person Doyoung wanted to be around. 

Beyond the nostalgia, the family traditions, the dreams, there was one part of each other that you two never shared. All until he hears the drip of sadness in your voice, “you want to know something?”

“Of course.” When it came to you, he wasn’t sure if he had the power to say no.

The stars hang low and the moon twinkles at the highest point of the night. The chatter from the normally busy boardwalk has been replaced by sounds of waves crashing in the distance and all the shops have gone dark. The smell of sweet waffle batter lingers from your clothes and the chilly summer breeze blows at the strands of your hair. 

“I’ve still never had my first kiss.” It had been a long kept secret, feeling embarrassed that someone at your age hadn’t experienced a simple kiss. You had thought that the moment you entered college, everything was going to change and you were going to experience it all. 

However, the romantic in you wouldn’t allow it. In all the books you read, you only hoped for a magical kiss that swept you off your feet. One that deemed itself memorable, that would have you replaying over and over in your head. A kiss so full of passion that it would destroy you to pull away from.

“It’s nothing amazing.” Doyoung dully answers, noting the pout on your face the moment he says it. He immediately feels bad for damping the mood even further. “Sorry, that’s not what I mean.” 

“How was your first kiss?” You lay that million dollar question on him so innocently. 

He genuinely couldn’t even remember how his first kiss was. All he could make out was how sweaty his palms were and how he threw up right afterwards. “It was mediocre. I think it was with someone random at a freshman welcoming party. I had too much to drink and barfed on the curb right after it happened.”

The sound of your melodic laugh causes him to follow. “Hey!” He points, the reoccuring grin appearing on his face, “don’t you dare laugh. I shared that in secrecy. It was a very vulnerable moment for me.”

You hold your stomach from the intense chuckles, tears rimming your eyes. “I appreciate the vulnerability. It made me feel a lot better.” 

Amidst the robust laughter, Doyoung found himself wanting to be the reason behind your happiness. A burning sensation spread across his chest, intense enough to where he thought he might’ve had a bad sunburn. He peers over at your giggling figure again. 

Your mouth opened in a toothy smile, your cheekbones high up on your face. Under the dimly lit boardwalk, Doyoung’s heart races at how stunning you look hunched over and just doing something as simple as laughing. Joy matches you so well and he can’t seem to look away.

It’s like the wind knocked the air out of his lungs, but he falls breathless at the realization. Underneath the stars of this summer night, Doyoung was falling for you. 

When your laughter comes to a gradual stop, Doyoung snaps out of his internal confusion of these new blossoming feelings for you. He bids you a small smile, “what I meant to say was that first kisses don’t have to be the special one. All it takes is the right person at the right time. A kiss like that would trump any first kiss.” 

“You sure say that with a lot of vindication. Do you think you’ve experienced that yet?” Curious eyes fall upon him, you watch him like a spectacle and he grows nervous under your gaze.

“Definitely not. All I’ve experienced are wrong persons and wrong times.” It is a mindless thought he let escape and he doesn’t hope you read too much between the lines. He surely did not include you in that statement whatsoever. You had to be the right person, deep down somewhere he knew that. “Those are once in a lifetime moments, that's why I think they're so special.”

“I like that perspective.” You nod knowingly. “I hope to experience something like that one day too.” Your head drops to your hands, fiddling your thumbs at the thought of something so remarkable. 

Doyoung could kiss you right here. He’d pick up your chin and dive right into you. He’d give you your first kiss and something even more special. Nonetheless, his body remains stuck on his side of the bench. It’s as if he physically cannot get himself to do it, as if rushing into it wouldn’t be a good idea. 

He doesn’t know or understand why his body stayed frozen in place. As much as the desire to kiss you stirred within the pit of his stomach, there seems to be a barrier halting him from acting on it. Almost like his mind is telling him that this isn’t the right time, not yet.

Hands in your curls, Doyoung presses his face deeper into you. Both of your hearts pulse rapidly at the long awaited kiss. Your trembling fingertips brush his cheek and his knees grow weak at every inch you touch. Your lips dance together like they’ve known the steps this whole time.

Doyoung kisses you like the world really is ending, like the only two people who exist are you and him. It’s beyond romantic– it’s feverish, transcendent, and special. Kissing him has your feelings bursting into a chaotic, wild flame that only he can put out from this moment forward.

You kiss him like you’ve known him all his life and everything has led up to now, like the right person at the right time. This has been the kiss he has been patiently waiting for, growing for, all of this time has amounted to this one beautiful moment with you. You grip his arm, holding onto him tightly and afraid that he’d let go, that if your lips parted, it would completely destroy you.

Until you’re both gasping for air and joints in pain from the awkward position you’ve made your way in, the kiss comes to an end. Doyoung blinks with round, innocent eyes and puffy stained lips, truly stuck in a daze. His hair resembles a bird's nest, sticking out at random directions and clearly disheveled. 

You pull down the part of your dress that managed to ride up on your thighs, tidying the strands of flyaways around your face. When your eyes meet and shyly part, you’re both bursting into laughter and the steamy tension in the tiny apartment dissipates instantly. This is how it should’ve been. 

Your thumb smears the remaining lipstick that painted Doyoung’s lips, doing your best to wipe away the mess. He catches your wrist in the midst of it, “I’m sorry for ever hurting you in the past.” 

With your mouth agape, you’re unsure how to respond. With a long awaited kiss, came a long awaited apology, that is something that Doyoung knew well. You deserve every ounce of his sincerity and explanation. He gulps, anticipating whatever you may throw in his direction. Despite being full fledged adults, Doyoung feels as if he is back in his early adult years and still foolish when it comes to his feelings for you.

“I just never understood why you ran away, why you had so many excuses.” Reliving that memory has been painful, but less as time passed. It had been a tremendous part of your growth, even if it wasn’t something you wanted to experience.

The end of summer finally dawned on the two of you. Doyoung had been distant the last few days, but played it off as needing to pack for his trip back to college. You respected his space, but it would be a lie if you didn’t hope to see him waiting for you after your final shifts at the gelato shop.

All the bright days and breezy nights spent together were going to stay with you for a long time moving forward. Never did you think that you and Kim Doyoung would reunite and grow so close. Along with that, you never thought that you’d grow to like him so much. 

You’ve tossed and turned long enough. Now that Doyoung is leaving, you’d feel regretful if you didn’t let your good friend know at the very least how you felt. So, on the night before he makes his way back to school, he agrees to meet you on the pier for a goodbye.   

Doyoung is already leaning over the ledge, peering out into the dark waves in deep thought. He had been so conflicted the past few weeks, coming to the realization of his romantic feelings for you. He knew that meeting you again and growing close had that possibility, but he was unable to think that far ahead. He just wished to enjoy every waking moment with you. 

This summer with you had been a dream, one that he didn’t want to wake from. Now that he had to go, he didn’t know how to proceed. He had considered a confession, but what then? In the sheer chance that you reciprocate, he couldn’t give you the relationship you wanted. He couldn’t be there waiting for you after your shifts like he did here. He was going to be miles apart and so zoned into his studies. 

The internal conflict ate him alive, avoiding to see you on the last few days of summer you two had left. It was selfish on his part, but couldn’t let his feelings grow more to the point of recklessness. Doyoung could not afford to be reckless.

You come running toward him with a gigantic smile on your face, the one that makes Doyoung naturally grin back. He loves seeing you this way and his chest burns with an aching pain at the reality that awaits him. 

“Hey! How’s packing been?” You greet him, exasperated from the light jog. 

“I managed to finish a bit ago. I realized that I should pack more of the sweaters I left behind. It’s not as warm out there as it is here.” Doyoung shoves his hands into his jean pockets, the wind picking up the ends of his shirt and blowing lightly. 

“That’s good.” It’s all you could say before mustering up the courage to speak the real reason why you’re here tonight. Your eyes drift to the waves crashing along the shore and the footprints left from earlier in the day getting washed away. Your throat nearly closes, but you knew it had to be said. 

“Doyoung, I actually came out to tell you something important.” 

He chokes up, afraid to know and unprepared for what you were going to say. Nodding, he looks at you with a blank expression. 

“I had such a fun summer with you that I found myself growing to have romantic feelings for you. Do you feel the same?” Your confession evokes a sense of excitement and joy, Doyoung could do cartwheels. Nonetheless, they soon become squashed by the impending truths of reality. As much as Doyoung wanted to confess and tell you how he felt the same, he chose not to. 

Instead, he chooses to find a way to reject you. Dragging it out would be more painful than ending things between the two of you now. He thought this had to be the best option for your happiness. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m going away tomorrow.” He can’t answer your question because then he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from revealing all the ways you make his heart race and palms sweaty. He can’t hold onto a hope for the two of you to exist, knowing that the distance and his dedication to his studies came first. He wasn’t ready. 

Your smile drops immediately, being replaced with a frown. “I know, but we can work things out. You’re not too far–”

“I can’t do the distance. I can’t sacrifice the time from my studies.” Doyoung can see your heart shatter with every word and he doesn’t know how to help. His own heart crushed in his chest and nothing, but sharp pain reveals itself. 

“You can’t or you won’t?” You’re biting back tears. You didn’t expect the confession to go like this. Not that you expected him to reciprocate, but you didn’t think he’d chew and spit out your feelings like this. All this time, all his gestures, all his smiles, were they really not meant for you?

He says the same excuses again, which only frustrates you further. It didn’t feel like he was being honest with you, but he refused to give another reason. “I thought that this summer was special to us.”

Doyoung doesn’t wish to upset you more, so he says his last words to you before running off. “Summer is not enough.” You’re whiplashed by his cruel response, left speechless as you watch his figure dash off and down the pier. 

You’re left alone and staring at his fading shadow. A hole in your chest from your heart being ripped out and trampled on the ground. As a tear runs down your cheek, you think to yourself how Kim Doyoung is a coward, but how you are a fool to think that this summer meant anything more than it was.  

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Doyoung sighs, that memory haunting him like a nightmare. “I was stupid. Not only was I a coward, but I was thoughtless. I thought that if I ended things there, you wouldn’t be hurt in the long run.”

“Did you always plan to hurt me?” 

Doyoung snaps his head over at you, a ghastly expression on his face at your question. “Absolutely not. I-” He searched for the right answer, “I knew that I wasn’t going to be a good boyfriend to you if things continued. I was so imperfect that at the point of my life I was in, I was not ready to be the person you deserved. I wanted to give you the moon and the stars, believe me, but I was a boy who couldn’t even afford a scoop of mango sorbet.” 

“Doyoung, the boy I loved was imperfect, but he managed to make sunflowers bloom in my chest and feel as if I wasas loved by the sun. I wanted nothing more than to be yours that summer.” Your hand lightly clasps onto his. 

He tightens the grip, “again, I’m so sorry I so selfishly and idiotically ruined things between us, for making you sad. I only wanted to be the reason behind your gorgeous smile. I wanted to reach out all this time, but I couldn’t get over the guilt that built up after all this time. Why would you want someone who hurt you to come back into your life?”

You lifted Doyoung’s chin, bringing his focus back on your face. The connection is electrifying, like an instant buzz that fills your system with a simple look. The way that Doyoung looks at you is like a mesmerized, starstruck fool.

“You hurt me and it took a long time for me to build that bridge and get over it. However, after all these years, you’re all I could think about. That summer is all that floods my mind when I’m alone, that summer of us.” Your gentle words remind him of a softness he had forged a long time ago. A tenderness in your touch, in your gaze, in your tone is enough to break down his walls.

“I’ve wondered about you everyday.” He feels himself so easily drawn to you, so willing to open his pages for you to read. “And everyday, I wished I could get another chance. Would you allow me that? Another chance to be with you?”

It’s like the person you were from that summer awakens inside of you, longing and yearning to be Kim Doyoung’s. This entire night had been full of pockets of nostalgia seeing him again. Remembering, feeling, forgiving. But that question really solidifies that that young kid still lives inside of you, still wanting to love their summer crush as much as they did.

“Yes, I’d give you that chance in a heartbeat.” 

Doyoung kisses you again. And again. And again. For every moment under the summer stars that he wished to do so. Your summer love has found its way to your present. 

#nct scenarios #doyoung scenario #nct scenario #doyoung scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct imagine #nct doyoung #doyoung #kim doyoung #doyoung x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct #omg finally it worked

[lambergeier]

all your ducks in a row – 7k, phoenix/miles, a prequel to the pacific rim au

it's done :) first two scenes below

After waiting ten minutes in Ema’s lab sans Ema, Miles makes an extremely flashy show of checking his watch.

“Who are you doing that for?” Phoenix asks him. “I bought you that watch, you think I don’t know how expensive your watch is?”

Miles growls at him, brings the watch a few inches closer to his face (not a show, Phoenix took most of their nearsight for an earlier briefing and has yet to give it back), then shakes his sleeve back over his wrist. “She’s late.”

“You know how I knew that? I don’t have a watch, it’s sad, but there is a clock on the wall that—”

“Oh, shut up,” Miles says, and buffets Phoenix with an old memory, rubbed near to loving smoothness, of: Phoenix Wright, newest technician at the Los Angeles Shatterdome. Big wounded eyes, crisply-starched uniform, the way he’d tottered to attention like a baby flamingo every time Miles Edgeworth passed him in the hall, like if Miles would just spare a look for the razor-thin crease in Phoenix’s slacks he might drop to his knees right then and there and—

“Alright, alright!” Phoenix laughs, waving a hand between them as if Miles’ love is a cloud that might ever be dispelled. “You can have your little vanities.”

“Thank you,” Miles sniffs, prim, and smiles as Phoenix does. “She is late, though.”

“Yeah, yeah. One more minute and then we’ll give her a call.” It’s well into evening but loud in the Dome, the thumping boots of night shift filling the halls as swing shift stumbles past them to their beds. Miles wants them out of here, quickly. He’s doing his best to keep his impatience to himself but the little hooks of it snag at Phoenix, too. When Phoenix reaches into the space between them, the aura of Miles’ incoming migraine haloes his vision. “She’s almost here,” he says to Miles.

“And how could you possibly know that,” Miles replies with an unbecoming roll of his eyes at the exact moment Ema throws herself into the room.

“Sorry, sirs!” she yells, stack of papers clutched to her chest, and Miles doesn’t acknowledge Phoenix’s smirk as they make their greetings and all sit down except that he’s forced to, intrinsically, because he melted his neurology to Phoenix’s in a massive industrial accident. Sucker.

“Okay,” Ema says, leaning over her spread of papers like a dealer trying to remember which color chip is the 50. “So I finally got my guy on the phone.”

There’s a little sparkler of panic from Miles, who can’t get the memory in time. Phoenix provides: her guy is an academic and neuro specialist that Meraktis reluctantly put Ema in touch with before his retirement. Well, “retirement.” His wife and two of his three children died trying to escape the city during the last attack and he’s leaving California while he still has a family left. Maybe better to just keep calling it a retirement.

“He thinks it might work,” Ema says.

Miles leans forward, whole sordid body alert. “He does.”

Phoenix says, “Keep talking.”

When Miles and Phoenix’s tangled health began, a few years after Ratel Cerulean, to stabilize, the good Dr. Meraktis had told them to consider themselves unbelievably, inconceivably lucky. Symptoms that were bad in a predictable way were a gift from god compared to the alternative. When they knew all of Miles’ migraine triggers, and all the weather patterns that would make the screws in Phoenix’s spine sing like malevolent tuning forks, and it had been years since they’d last had a seizure of even the little baby kind—that was a real life. They could live like that. Miles had been intensely grateful, as had Phoenix. He’d never say he wasn’t. But Ema, then Meraktis’ spunky neurology sidekick, had thought there might be more they could still try, and Meraktis had called her ideas ridiculous, but Phoenix had heard her out. Their problems were the making of a drift gone wrong. Could they be further resolved by a drift gone right?

It took years to get Miles on board. Until Meraktis fled the coast and couldn’t stop Ema from making her pitches anymore. Miles still isn’t totally on board—as he listens to Ema describe imaging results and hypothetical neural bridges, his fear is a bright and chattering flame.

Phoenix imagines the sensation of his hand on the back of Miles’ head, pushing his fingers through Miles’ hair. He remembers the feeling, many years familiar, of the stubbly back of Miles’ neck rubbed beneath the pressure of his thumb. In the seat beside him, Miles’s hands slowly release their white-knuckle grip on the arms of his chair. “So all we would need to do,” Miles says, as Ema’s explanation slows for breath, “is start a new drift?”

“I think so,” Ema says. “It could work. There’s no guarantee, there’s no, like, precedent for what’s going on with you guys but—I think so.” She shuffles her papers across her desk with a nervous hand. “I think so.”

She’s not selling this so well, certainly not enough for Miles’ flagging confidence. That’s fine. Miles doesn’t need to be sure of it. Phoenix is, enough for them both. This will work. This will help them. This will be okay. He cups Miles’ faith in the palms of his hands.

“Alright,” Miles says. “Let’s try it.”

---

Miles’ tentative optimism doesn’t withstand the rest of their working day, which includes a review of the Jumphawk’s latest no-light maneuvers, a call to Brussels, a call to his sister (way more harrowing than the EU), and a final visit to Angel, who hates them, just before the clock flips to 2:00 AM. It’s bad for both of them—Miles who was up at six yesterday morning and Phoenix who will be up again at six this coming morning. If Miles hadn’t begun to spiral as they trudged towards their mockery of a bedtime, Phoenix might have actually started to worry.

“We are—we’re delusional for even considering this,” Miles says, pacing their awful fucking rooms with his arms locked right behind his back. He’s going to pull something in his shoulder. They should really let the janitorial staff dust in here more often. “Frankly,” Miles says, “we should court-martial ourselves and hand control of the dome to Franziska now, for even thinking of this.”

“Sure, baby,” Phoenix says. His forearm lays heavy over his eyes. He tracks Miles’ movements by other means. “We both know how much you love handing your sister control of things.”

He remembers, before Miles can stop him, the “surprise” “party” Franziska has organized for Miles, the one time they’d visited Sydney before Miles became Marshall. It had been a poor surprise and an even worse party. When Franziska had mistaken Flight Commander Wright for a member of her own terrified support staff and ordered him to fetch more non-alcoholic wine spritzers, Phoenix had experienced nothing except relief.

“You weren’t wearing your uniform,” Miles muttered, face heating sharply. “How was she supposed to recognize you?”

She wouldn’t have even perceived the uniform. Phoenix could have been wearing a trophy from all three of his and Miles’ kills-to-date and she still would have told Phoenix to go get more toothpicks for the cocktail weiners which no one was enjoying and everyone was avoiding.

“Back to my original point,” Miles growls, before Phoenix can really get started on remembering the taste of the weiners (bad).

He sighs. “And what was that, baby?”

“Phoenix. We haven’t tried to drift in years. To just throw ourselves at it like this, with no practice, with no time to think—”

“We’re currently drifting. We’re drifting right now. What other practice do we need?”

Miles turns in his pacing at the edge of the bed, his inner ear off tonight, the pivot too deep for comfort. “This isn’t a game. This is dangerous. What—if something goes wrong, after what it did to you last time—”

“To us,” Phoenix says.

It’s Miles’ memories that sweep them this time, strong as the breakers. Phoenix as he’d hung from the harness in Ratel’s burning, electrified cockpit. A corpse, a scarecrow, a bare-ribbed carcass awaiting the butcher, etc. etc. Phoenix wasn't really there. Phoenix remembers very little of the four hours it took their rescuers to cut into Ratel Cerulean, hesitant as they were to set off her distempered nuclear heart. He remembers pain and Miles screaming. Howling. He’d been informed afterwards, by surgeons and Miles’ fear, how bad it had been. Miles remembers, far beyond his own pain, the burning smell of Phoenix’s skin and the blood emerging in fat slugs from the seams of Phoenix’s suit. Miles’ mind had been peeling open like fruit beneath a knife. He’d been so sure, for days after, until Phoenix woke up and could be examined himself, that Phoenix’s eye had been gone. He was sure he’d seen it sluicing away.

Phoenix, in bed, rubs a hand over his eye, calluses catching on the scar. It was just the scar. His eye was fine. The eye had been fine. “You didn’t do that to me,” Phoenix says. “Don’t apologize for that.”

Miles had been commanding officer.

“C’mon,” Phoenix murmurs.

Miles slides away from him, slipping the noose of Phoenix’s grace. That’s not his word—Phoenix would never call it grace. Miles, half the room away, says, “It’s dangerous. It’s—beyond that. God knows what we’d risk. How many people in the Dome’s medical staff are even aware of our neurology?” He hates calling it a drift. “What happens when something goes wrong and they have no idea what they’re looking at?”

“911’s still operational, right?”

“Phoenix, take this seriously!”

“Miles, it’ll be okay.” Miles doesn’t believe him. Phoenix says it again. “We’ve been over this a million times. We’re not out fighting a kaiju this time. We’re not even leaving the shop floor. We’ll be in the dome, with Ema, with her two guys that know the stuff, with like one Jaeger tech, and no one else around. Nobody’s going to find out about our drift and nobody else will need to find out, because it’ll be fine. It’s just a drift test. It’s going to work. We’ll be fine.”

He’s still so afraid. He’s only admitted to like half of the things he’s terrified of. He starts to pace, stops again. Here comes another big slice of the pie: “What about Trucy?” Miles asks.

“She won’t even be here,” Phoenix says. “Maya’s picking her up tomorrow. You know that.”

Miles hates that, too, though he won’t fully articulate why and doesn’t appreciate Phoenix picking at that lack of articulation, thank you. Trucy distant, Trucy away—Miles’ fists tighten bloodlessly into themselves.

“What, you’d prefer she stick around?” Phoenix asks. That Trucy would give them a week of subtle teenage hell for canceling her girls’ Kurain weekend is too obvious to need saying. “You’d want her to see if anything goes wrong?”

“So you admit something might go wrong!”

Phoenix groans and laughs and finally lets his arm fall from his eyes. Their junky old room is dim and hazy, pressure-spotted a sickly green. Miles watches him from just out of arms’ reach. He looks just miserable.

“You really should have been some big, hot-shot lawyer, you know that?” Phoenix says. “Always putting me on trial.”

He holds out his hand. “C’mere,” he says.

Slowly, Miles takes it. Phoenix pulls him into their bed. He helps Miles kick his shoes off, nudging them off of the sheets. He sets Miles’ watch on the table beside their bed.

Miles, voiceless, traces the dark flat scars of the burns on Phoenix’s neck. His fingertips shake.

It must be nearly 3:00 AM. “S okay,” Phoenix says. “You didn’t do that to me. It’s going to work.”

Miles wants so badly to believe him. Miles wants, with a desperation he loathes, to catch just a handful of the thing that makes Phoenix so sure.

Neither of them will get to sleep like this. “C’mere,” Phoenix says again, taking Miles’ hands in his own.

He pictures the snow. Mt. Shasta, when he was young, maybe eight. He remembers sitting in the formless powder. He’d been warm. The sun had been just above the trees. No cold drips down his gloves yet, no slush in his boots. The sky had been blue and entire. The world was in concert hushed. Snow had moved with the ease of air between his fingers.

Miles is beside him. He draws Miles’ hand into the snow, making a many-fingered shape with his own. He shows Miles how to sit deeper in the powder, to let it form around you in a smooth bowl. He breathes and Miles breathes with him, exhalations rocketing from their mouths.

read the rest on ao3 👍👍👍

#ace attorney #narumitsu #the italics did not copy in and i'm not fixing that because i am on mobile waiting in line at the corner store lol #in better light #is that a tag already?? guess we'll find out!!

[foreseersgaze]

— TOJI FUSHIGURO X FEM READER DRABBLE

— SUMMARY: You help Toji Fushiguro with a place to sleep. Reluctantly.

— WC: 1.3k

— WARNINGS: Mentions of cleaning up blood. Fluff. Comfort at the end. Slight angst if you squint. Slight sexual tension.

— CAM!!!!!! THE ONE BED TROPE PROMPTSSS!!! mmm what do u think abt toji and the "it's not like we haven't slept together before." line.... 🙈🙈🙈 PLEASEE PLEASEEE I WANNA SEE WHAT UR SEXY BRAIN COMES UP WITHH HEHEHE ILYYY!!!! - @teddybeartoji

— A/N: You got it 🫡 send in a request for a drabble!

Hearing a knock at your door at two in the morning was most unwelcoming, but not surprising.

You groan, sitting up in your bed for a few more minutes, rubbing your eyes, trying to rake your mind for who in the world could be coming to knock on your door this late.

Your movements are slow as you climb out of the bed, but your pace is soon corrected when you hear another knock on the door, this one heavier than the last.

"Coming, Jesus Christ," you mutter as if the knocker would even hear you. You slip on your slippers and make your way out of your bedroom and into the hallway to open the door, and, when your gaze meets a tall man, looming over you, you furrow your eyebrows the moment you recognize him.

"Toji..." You say his name in a deep breath, hardly believing your eyes.

Toji Fushiguro, the man you've taken into your home ever since the first day you've met him. You remember it clearly, hardly fond of the memory as it's stuck to the back of your mind like a sticky residue left over from peeling away an old sticker. He was found lying in a dark alleyway, attempting to bandage himself up with a piece of torn-up cloth from his shirt over an open bleeding wound, so you helped him out and took him home to fix him up, and now, here he is, for maybe the hundredth time appearing at your doorstep for help.

"Hey."

His greeting is brief, and almost annoyed as he immediately moves to brush past you, inviting himself inside. You huff, hanging your head when you hear him slip his shoes off inside and make his way farther into your apartment, knowing he'd do something like this, simply making your apartment a place of habit.

You close the door behind you once you step back inside and you cross your arms, looking at the tall man who's made his way to the kitchen sink, washing blood off of his arms with your laundry detergent. You cross your arms over one another, making your way into the kitchen, looking at him disapprovingly.

"Really? Can't even ask nicely if you can come inside? Can't even give me a warning that you're coming? No call, or text? You just show up here like you live here. It's two o'clock in the fucking morning, Toji," You chastise him, and you let your arm fly out to direct his attention to the clock on the wall, but he remains unbothered, continuing to scrub the remnants of blood off of his arms, now using your newly bought Scrub Daddy. You narrow your eyes at this and you let out a royal groan, shaking your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose, knowing no matter how much you try, you'll never be able to get rid of this man. "I don't even know why I bother."

You hear the water shut off to the kitchen sink and a deep sigh coming from the man, which makes you look up and remove your fingers from the bridge of your nose. You watch him as he takes a few paper towels and dries himself off before slowly turning to face you as he leans against the counter.

"Sorry," Is all he says—a lazy reply, which is what you get from him every single time. Anger boils inside of you, wanting to shout and rage, you open your mouth to speak but he quickly shuts you up when he speaks again. "You're right. I should've called," he says, his tone sounding more sincere. He finishes drying his arms and he tosses the paper towels into the trash can. Surprised at his sudden sincerity, you shut your mouth. He approaches you, looming over you once again, and his fingers find their way under your chin, tilting up your head to look up at him.

Immediately, the feeling of rage smooths out and mellows into a feeling of calm when he touches you, because just like Toji, you had a habit.

He was your bad habit, whether he knew that or not, you were addicted to letting him touch you, which is why you let him into your home even though you put up a fight every single time.

Green, emerald eyes meet yours, and the scar on his lip quirks when he sees you immediately melt at his touch. He rubs his thick, calloused thumb over your chin which makes your legs weak.

"I was in the area and needed a place to wash up. Assumed ya would be alright with it, yeah?" He says, his tongue dripping in sickeningly, sweet silver, knowing you'd fall like a mouse to his fangs because he knew you secretly loved taking care of him and fixing him.

"Yeah." Your reply is soft, just like he expects, so that scar on his lip turns up even more as his fangs are revealed.

"'Atta girl." He presses a kiss to your forehead, and before you know it, you're turning on your heel, leading Toji away from the kitchen to your bedroom.

You pull a futon from out of your closet and you roll it out onto the floor while Toji stands at the doorway with his arms crossed over one another. You place a pillow onto the mat, throw a duvet over it, and then stand back up to gesture to the prepared sleeping place.

"Ta-da," you exclaim, a bit proudly as you offer him a place to sleep, but the crossed arms and a raised eyebrow on Toji's stature make you want shrink. "What?"

He scoffs, shaking his head. "There's no way I'm sleeping on that." He's distasteful as his face scrunches up. He moves away from the door and goes to stand in front of the futon, placing his hands on his hips as he sizes it up before turning to look at your bed. "Why can't I sleep with you?"

When he suggests that, you feel like a little mouse again, wanting to say yes just so he can sink his teeth into you again, but, you stand your ground, even if you're a bit meeker than you'd like to be.

"B-Because uhm... u-uh... because you don't have a change of clothes. You're dirty, Toji. Can't have you sleeping in my bed. I mean, you came into my home and the first thing you did was wash blood off of your arms!" You remark, now placing your hands on your hips as you try to tell him off, but Toji sighs and rolls his eyes.

He makes a move, bringing his hands away from his hips to grab at the base of his shirt and he pulls it off of him, and then he slips off his pants. You watch with wide eyes, as this was unexpected.

"There, now I'm not in my dirty clothes. Besides," He grunts as he climbs into your bed anyway, despite your words. Not that you're going to argue anyway as you watch his large frame slide underneath the blankets and roll onto his back. He places an arm underneath his head, and a thick thigh sneaks out from under the covers. "It's not like we haven't slept together before."

You want to curse Toji for being right, and you want to curse him for stripping down to his underwear as he climbs into the bed, but, you refrain and instead opt for grumbling under your breath as you climb into bed next to him anyway, but you keep your distance, keeping your back turned toward him.

He chuckles at this, finding your resistance amusing, as he knows within a few mere seconds you'd be all over him after a few touches.

He tests this theory and his hands find the curve of your hip, and he gently touches it, rough fingers slider under your shirt to caress your stomach.

"Don't know why you're so far away."

His theory is confirmed when you feel yourself melting again, and, turning back to your bad habit, you face him and scoot back towards him, propping your head up onto his warm, broad chest, listening to the soft thrum of his heartbeat.

He sighs and relaxes, and gives the top of your head a quick kiss before closing his eyes.

"That's my girl."

#my fics. #posts. #jjk. #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fluff #toji fushiguro fluff #toji fushiguro angst #toji angst #toji fushiguro fanfic #toji fushiguro fanfiction

[theodorenmyth]

THEO NOTT REQUEST<3

I don’t read smut so I would like to request something angst to fluff or just fluff. Maybe something where we are jealous but not in a toxic or overbearing way. Maybe he gets paired up with a past hookup of his in class and we get uncomfortable. But we aren’t weird about it. Thanks! And drink your water babe

A Twinge of Green

Pairings : Theodore Nott x M! Reader Summary : You never imagined Theodore Nott could make you feel this way. Paired with a former flame in class, Theo seems unaffected while your discomfort grows. Navigating your emotions and trying not to be overbearing, you grapple with a jealousy that is unfamiliar but undeniably present. A/n : Enjoy (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) Warnings) : Nothing! Word count : 900+

You’ve always prided yourself on being rational. Cool-headed, even. It’s why Professor Slughorn paired you with Theodore Nott for Potions; you two balance each other out. Theo’s knack for improvisation complemented your methodical approach perfectly. But today, Professor Slughorn had other ideas.

"Today's lesson will require some collaboration," Slughorn announces, clapping his hands together. "I'll be mixing up the pairs for a bit of variety. Let's see… Mr. Nott, you'll be working with Miss Carmichael."

You freeze. Eloise Carmichael. You’re more than aware of her brief but intense history with Theo. They had a fling last year that ended as quickly as it began, but the memory lingers in your mind like an uninvited guest.

Theo nods, unaffected, as if the shift in partners is no big deal. Of course, to him, it probably isn’t. He walks over to Eloise, exchanging a few words before they settle into a comfortable rhythm. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but their familiarity is evident in the way they move around each other, seamless and fluid.

“Y/N, you’ll be with Mr. Diggory,” Slughorn's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you turn to see Cedric Diggory smiling at you warmly. Cedric is kind, intelligent, and charming—an ideal partner. Yet, as you make your way to the workstation next to Theo and Eloise, all you can think about is the flutter of irritation in your chest.

The task is straightforward: brew a Draught of Peace. As you and Cedric gather ingredients, you catch glimpses of Theo and Eloise out of the corner of your eye. She laughs at something he says, and you grip a jar of moonstone dust tighter than necessary.

“Everything okay?” Cedric asks, concern in his voice.

“Yeah, just… distracted,” you reply, forcing a smile.

You’ve never been one to get jealous. It’s not like you and Theo are even dating. But there’s a nagging feeling, a twist in your gut every time Eloise touches his arm or leans in too close. You want to look away, to focus on your own potion, but it’s like trying to ignore a splinter.

Theo looks up, catching your eye. For a moment, his brow furrows, and he seems almost puzzled by your expression. Then Eloise says something else, and he’s back to their conversation, leaving you feeling like a ghost in the room.

Cedric is diligent and polite, filling the silence with small talk about Quidditch and upcoming exams. You respond automatically, your mind elsewhere. The Draught of Peace is coming along nicely, the potion’s silvery vapor curling up in delicate tendrils, but your concentration wavers every time Theo chuckles or murmurs something to Eloise.

“Here, let me stir that,” Cedric offers, taking the ladle from your hands. You let him, too preoccupied to protest.

“Do you think Theo and Eloise ever felt awkward after their thing ended?” you blurt out suddenly. Cedric looks at you, surprised.

“Um, I’m not sure. I guess it depends on how it ended. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” you mumble, but Cedric’s perceptive enough to understand there’s more to it.

“Hey,” he says gently, “if it’s bothering you, maybe you should talk to him about it.”

You nod, knowing he’s right, but the idea of bringing it up with Theo feels daunting. What would you even say? That you’re feeling jealous over something that happened ages ago, something that shouldn’t even matter?

The class drags on, and by the time Professor Slughorn calls for the end of the session, you’ve barely held it together. Cedric smiles at you as you clean up, and you thank him for being a great partner, even if your heart wasn’t fully in it.

As students start to leave, you notice Theo lingering by the door, waiting. Eloise says goodbye, and he nods, then turns his attention to you.

“Walk with me?” he asks, and you nod, falling into step beside him.

The corridors are quieter now, the hustle of students fading as they head to their next classes or the Great Hall. Theo walks beside you in comfortable silence, but you can feel the weight of the unsaid words between you.

“You seemed off today,” he finally says, glancing sideways at you. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” you reply too quickly, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Y/N, come on. I know you better than that.”

You sigh, stopping in your tracks. Theo stops too, turning to face you, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

“It’s stupid,” you begin, “but seeing you with Eloise… I didn’t like it.”

For a moment, Theo looks taken aback. Then, a slow understanding dawns on his face.

“Are you jealous?” he asks, not mocking, just genuinely surprised.

“Maybe,” you admit, crossing your arms defensively. “I don’t know. It’s just… weird seeing you with someone you’ve been with before.”

Theo steps closer, his gaze softening. “Y/N, Eloise and I… that was a long time ago. It didn’t mean anything. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, looking down. “But it still felt… uncomfortable.”

Theo reaches out, lifting your chin so you’re looking at him. “You have nothing to worry about. If I’m with anyone, it’s you. Not her.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. It’s the closest either of you has come to admitting there’s something more than just friendship between you.

“I guess I just needed to hear that,” you whisper.

Theo smiles, a rare, genuine smile that makes your chest feel lighter. “Anytime. And next time, just tell me. We’re in this together, right?”

You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Right.”

He pulls you into a hug, and you relax into his arms, the tension melting away. As you walk together down the corridor, you feel a sense of clarity. Whatever you and Theo are becoming, it’s real, and it’s worth the occasional moments of uncertainty. And that’s enough.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin x reader #slytherin boys imagine #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys react #toxic slytherin boys #harry potter fandom #harry potter x male reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter #harry potter universe #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp x male reader #hp fandom #hp fic #hp #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott x male reader #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott #potions #theodorenmyth

[faghubby]

Fishing trip

I was looking forward to this trip for months. The four of us had rented this cabin. Well not sure you can call it a cabin. Four bedroom two floor, huge porch, balcony over looking a pool. Set on a hill over looking a lake. We had use of a fishing boat. And ATVs not to mention the streams and river near by. The weather was going to be perfect. I was packed and set to leave. When tragedy struck. The deal I had been working on, my huge bonus to close the deal. Went sideways I could fix this but it meant a trip to Cincinnati.

I called Walt, Pete and George and broke the news. Maybe I could meet them later in the week. After some teasing on how at least I wouldn't scare the fish they all understood and hoped to meet me there.

Phoebe , my wife of 15 years. drove me to the airport the next morning, she had already planned on me being away. Where I went didn't really matter. I was kinda complaining about missing the trip the money already spent.

"Maybe I will go so it's not a waste" Phoebe told me. She hated fishing.

"And do what?" I said knowing she was just trying to make me feel better.

"Sit by the pool, kyack, walks in the wood" she told me. As I kissed her goodbye. My flight being called.

"Go then have fun with three guys who smell like fish" I said jokingly.

"Okay I will" she told me in defiance of my joking. I didn't think about it again. Till I had already landed met with the clients lawyers and checked into my hotel. When I read a text.

"Cells are spotty at the lake, George is driving me" the text read as she showed me a pic of her loading her stuff in his SUV. I called her they where still on the road.

"Hello sweety, you're on speaker " she sang.

"You really are going fishing" I laughed.

"She promised to cook, buddy" I heard Walt say. They where driving up together. Pete was going to meet them there. After a brief conversation of their plans she took me off speaker.

"Hurry up if you can, miss you already" Pheobe told me and hung up.

I spent the next three days talking them out of walking away from the contract. And two more writing changes to a new one.

Phoebe

We arrived at the cabin after midnight. I was still wide awake from too much coffee or general curiosity. Went exploring. The guys gave me the master bedroom saying I should have the private bathroom. I went to shower and couldn't figure out how the shower worked. It was one of those showers with all kinds of different showerheads. I went to the bedroom door.

"Hey guys, can someone help me" I called out Walt appeared.

"Um I can't figure out the shower" I said fully aware I stood in front of him in nothing but a towel. Walt ever the perfect gentleman. Went to investigate. He gave me a quick explanation. But as he went to leave he paused for a brief moment. It was nothing.

"What?" I asked.

"Sorry never knew you had a tattoo" he said excusing himself.

"OH, here it goes up" I raised my towel to show him the tattoo on my thigh of a dragon and unicorn some thought they where locked in an epic battle. I thought of it as both sides of my personality. But as I did my towel slipped and exposed my breasts.

"Sorry, I should" Walt said. I grabbed his shoulder to steady myself as I grasped the towel. He took it differently. He turned and pulled me into his arms. I should of pushed him away. I wanted to.

But I looked up into his deep brown eyes, he was a very handsome man. White hair sprinkled in his beard. Contrast to his ebony bald head. His body hard from a life time of hard work. He stood alot taller then Paul. I let the towel fall. His huge hands grasped my breasts. My c cups still not big enough to fill them. He kissed me. Then stopped

"Nothing has happened yet" he told me. I jumped into his arms and he carried me to the bed. I watched as he shed his clothes. His cock. My God I had never. It jutted out from his body, Paul's always pointed up. But I think the sheer size of Walt didn't allow that. He must be twice my husband I thought. As he climbed on top of me.

"Go slow, you are so much bigger" I pleaded. Despite his strength he was gentle and carresed my body. He didn't fuck me he made love to me. I came twice. Loudly as he did. We laid there in the afterglow. I admired his tattoos.

"I love my husband" I shared.

"Paul is great. Let's just call this a fling" he told me. As he held me tight I fell asleep. I woke and took that shower finally. It was already 10am the guys where gone. I figured out early.

I put on a bikini and laid out by the pool. It was mid afternoon, when I put down my book. Romance smut I thought after reading a well description of sex. I thought about Walt. I was alone the sun warming me. My fingers slid under my suit and I was soon rubbing my clit. Suddenly I opened my eyes to see Pete standing there watching me.

"Pete, I " I turned beet red. He sat at my feet. He rubbed my feet

"Don't stop on my account" he smiled. I couldn't I mean I had fucked Walt last night. I thought back to a time in collage when I had allowed 5 guys to gang bangs me. I pulled my bottom down exposing myself and started to masterbate. I felt Pete kiss my thigh higher and higher. Soon he pulled off my bikini and was sucking my clit. I wanted him I pulled his hair pulling him on top of me. He smelled of sweat and push. As I tried to tear his clothes off of him. Pete took his time. He liked to tease me. Get me close then stop. He even worked two fingers in my ass. He offered me his cock to suck. As much as he teased me it was like a present. I sucked it down my throat, he wasnt hss big and think as Walt but still bigger then Paul. But before he came he pulled out. And slid it into my very wet cunt. It didn't take long for me to dig my nails into his back as we came together. I didn't want to let him go but we heard the ATVs co,ING back. I jumped in the pool and fixed my suit as Pete vanished into the house.

In less then 24 hours I had fucked two of my husband's friends and cum more then I had in a year. I knew Pete was married. His wife and I friends but I hadn't cared. Later that night I sought out George.

George was funny, probably Paul's best friend. I found him in the hot tub.

"I am sure Walt and Pete" I said.

"Well Pete has a big mouth" George said. I looked at him and removed my robe. I was naked as I got in the hot tub.

"You are a nasty little mink" he told me. He pulled me onto his lap.

"Have you and Cindy ever talked about" he asked me. He pinched my nipples. Cindy was his long term girlfriend. They had been together for years.

"No" I moaned. He pushed me up and bent me over the edge of the hot tub. Without warning he drove his cock balls deep into my pussy. He fucked me like a man just out of prison. He pulled out and spun me just to cum on my face. Then shoved his cock innmy mouth. As I sucked him hard again.

"I am going to take that ass" he told me. As soon as he was hard he pulled out and bent me over again.

"Please some lube" I begged. He squirted something on my ass and again drive his cock in balls deep. I was in tears as he fucked my ass. Whatever he used was no longer lubricating but he didn't slow. Petre came all over my ass. He didn't even let me rinse off instead marched me naked back into the house.

"You are the cabin slut for the weekend, I don't want to see you even wearing clothes" he told me both Pete and Walt where in the room.

Pete, George and Walt although all friends where very different. Although I abided by George' s rule of no clothes. Other then when we went into town. And then I wore a sundress, no bra or panties. I had some kind of sexual experience with each of them. Everyday. Walt gentle and kind. George forceful and dirty , while Pete was funny and playful. By Wednesday night Pete and George even split roasted me on the balcony.

Thursday I sucked Walt's huge cock. Proud I had managed to take it all before they headed to the lake. When a car pulled up.

I glanced out the window to see Paul pulling up. I rushed upstairs and jumped in the shower.

Paul

I finished up in Ohio and rushed to the lake. I would still get in a long weekend. As I entered the cabin I heard the shower, the guys must be on the lake I was right I found Phoebe in the shower. I joined her. She kissed me surprised to to see me. Fishing could wait . I took her to bed.

"Paul, I have to tell you" she stopped me. "I don't know exactly how it happened but I slept with The guys" she confessed, I was stunned.

"What? Who?" I stuttered

"All three of them. I had to tell you.i am sorry" Phoebe cried.

"At the same time" I asked but I was kissing and pawing at her. I was so turned on by her being a slut.

"Paul?" Phoebe asked as she grasped the stiffest hard on I have had since I was 15. "You're not mad" she stroked me.

"Tell me about it" I begged. She stopped me pushing me back.

"I was so worried you would leave me" she yelled at him hitting him in the chest. Then she looked me in the eye. "Walt is very big" she held her hands apart to show me. I pinned her down. I wanted her.

"Stop, if it turns you on so much I should just finish the week out ad their slut" Phoebe told me. She reached down and stoked my dick.

"Sit up" she told me. Never letting go of my now leaking penis. I came in her hand.

"Let's go down to the lake" she suggested. I got dressed. But Phoebe only wore sandels and a sheer rap. Like woman wear over thier bathing suit on the beach. We reached the dock and called the boat on the shortwave radio. They headed right in. They took one look at Phoebe. And laughed.

"You okay with your wife dressing like that Paul?"

"Yes, she looks awesome." I replied. Phoebe kissed me.

"Maybe they will let you watch later" she said and smacked my ass.

The four of us spent the day fishing. And Phoebe was the topic of the day. The three of them compared notes, and told stories about the last few days. I was rock hard the whole time. Even sharing a story of my own back when me and Phoebe had first met.

As we got back to the cabin Phoebe was cooking diner. George walked straight up and bent her over the counter. He started to play with her ass.

"George please' She begged handing him a tube of lube. He took it.

"Paul finish dinner don't let it burn" George picked Phoebe up and took her outside on the patio. I could hear them bit not see focusing on not ruining dinner.

"You are really okay with this" Walt smiled

"Yes" was all I could muster.

"Well I guess you get the couch then" Pete laughed. They treated me like a bitch after that. I was the butt of every joke or prank. Not permitted to drink to much since I wasn't man enough. I don't know if it was Phoebe or the guys but she made sure I got a good look at each one of their cocks over the next two days.

Phoebe fucked all of them at least once a day. I got even more turned on. As they teased me.

"Maybe you should ride on the back of thefour wheeler. It might be too much for you to handle" they even made me fish with Phoebe's pink pole I had bought years ago. She never used. But hadbought along for the weekend cause you never know.

Friday night. Phoebe came down stairs sat on couch where I was sleeping. I woke up. She wore her robe.

"You need to come clean, explain this all to me" She said. "You get excited when I fuck your friends, but also when they treat you like a sissy" she told me. I was rock hard and rolled to rub against her.

"Explain first" she told me.

"I don't know, I always loved it when the guys would talk about how hot you where. Made me feel like a million bucks. I had fantasies of you fucking George. I knew what he is like. Way he talks about his conquest. Plus I know I am not very big. And it's hard for you to finish with me,

"I will admit I have had more orgasms this week them in the last 5 years" she told me.

"And you let them have your ass" I moaned. We had never. I had asked her to try it once but she was unsure about it and I let it go.

"Walt took it tonight I don't think it will ever go back." She laughed stood up and showed me her still stretched asshole. I kissed it even running my tounge along the rim. This made Phoebe giggle. She spun and showed me her gapped pussy as well. I went to kiss it too. She pulled back.

"He finished in" she started I grabbed her ass and pulled her back kissing her pussy. My tounge probing the creves. I could definitely taste Walt mixed with her. Phoebe just let me continue.

"It's in there deep" Phoebe reminded me. Soon she was rocking back on forth riding my face. I made her cum she regained her composure.

"Be right back" as she got up and went upstairs. She returned a few minutes later.

"Put these on" she held a peach colored panties, with lace across the ass.

"Phoebe?!" I said surprised

"If you're going to suck men's cum out of my dirty cunt. You are going to wear the proper underwear" she told me. I got up took off my boxers as she slid them up my legs. She rubbed my never ending erection thru the soft material till I came. It didn't take long. Then went back to bed.

I was up first showered and dressed. When Phoebe came down in just her robe and made breakfast. As we ate Phoebe just crawled under the table and sucked Pete's cock. She came up. And kissed me. She hadn't swallowed Pete's load. Instead she fed it to me. Forcing me to swallow it. To laughs from the three of them.

"Last day" she handed me a flower print bikini. "Since you love to eat cum so much you should dress the part on the lake." I felt warm. I couldn't not in public. Not with my friends. Suddenly they where all insisting. I went and changed. The suit was very small barely covering my ass. And I had not tits. I wanted to protest but everyone could see my erection straining against the material.

We went out on the boat. But fishing was done. They had fished for the last 8 days. Today they made sure I got a nice tan. They went and jumped off the cliff into the lake. I wasn't allowed to try I was delicate. And although it pissed me off. It excited me also. So inplayed the part of the unimpressed girl watching them be jerks. But at noon they headed back to the cabin. We surprised Phoebe. They sat me down and I watched as they all fucked her. In every hole. She was covered in there sperm by the time they finished.

"Go clean your slut up" they told me. Phoebe was exhausted and falling asleep as I started to lick and slurp up 6 or was it 7 loads of cum off of her. The guys left us alone. But I didn't want to stop. Phoebe even fell asleep until I sucked two loads out of her cunt

"Sissy, don't forget my ass" is all phoebe said rolling over to give me better access. I let Phoebe sleep. The guys left rather then spend another night. I spent the rest of the day in Phoebe's bikini. When Pheobe woke she gave me another handjob.

"Paul, I am going to at least counting to see Pete. Since he is technically the only one single. And I will have to find some more since I know now you are a total cum fag" Phoebe told me. We left in the morning.on the long drive home. Phoebe made me make a detour to an adult store. Where she made me pick out a strapon along with other toys. After a brief breakdown where I admitted I wanted it. She also had me change right in the parking lot. Into a pair of her panties. She let me choose. Since she hadn't worn any all week.

All I could think about was when was the next fishing trip?

[takes1]

Hi!!! I saw the Osamu x Reader post and as a Suna girlie it breaks my heart just a lil for Suna (very good stuff for Osamu and Reader tho, that was divine) but I was wondering maybe a slight part 2 for this where Suna gets his own happy ending? I say slight part 2 cuz Suna still has his heartbreak from the Osamu story but ends up with a different reader, perhaps? In my head it was Reader's relative who's much more of his type (relative part for slight drama, iykyk) but I'll leave that up to you!! For NSFW I'll also leave that up to you!! If that's not your cup of tea, you can ignore this ask, thanks a lot!!

hi!! thank you!! i def tried to take this in a slightly diff direction, just bc i was a little confused, but i kept the themes the same and the general prompt true to form! i hope this is alright! thanks for the request!!

warnings. sfw, alcohol consumption

info. angsty / hurt/comfort / timeskip!suna / very sad!suna / heartbreak!suna / previous relationship / suna not getting over breakup / misunderstandings / miscommunication / suna checking you out / happy ending / implied needy!suna / __ words

haikyuu collection. more here.

more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

"Old-fashioned. Please," The man beside you was quiet. Raspy, in a young way, but carried an age's worth of reservation in what were so few words.

He was wearing a nice, linen shirt. Orange and yellow danced off of his Harry Winston watch, but it didn't compare to the glint in his eye as he turned to look at your equally classy style.

The name that breezed off of your lips a little too easy.

"Rintarou?"

Other voices from around the rest of the bar fell away. White noise to you- a loud, gray static to him.

His fingers felt ice cold despite not nursing a drink, a decision he regretted not partaking in sooner with the rest of his team, now.

The knot in his throat kept him from responding.

"Wanna start a tap?" The bartender slid his drink towards him. He eyed you when Suna didn't take it right away.

A brief glance between this tense scene was all it took to understand.

He offered his card between two fingers and took the seat next to you without a word.

"This isn't going to work out."

Three years. So many victories, so many trials-- gone. You swore up and down you never felt anything, even after you watched him break down into tears for an hour.

Your passive stare, completely impartial to whether he lived or died, was all the solace he got.

He must've cried for days. He almost didn't show up for graduation.

The twins thought he died.

Suna held an empty stare forward at the glossy counter- fingers circling the mouth of his glass, sometimes twirling it.

Drowning in vat of ice-cold water would be a warmer feeling than this eternal torture.

The memory of you walking out of the gym, holding yourself because you knew what you were doing, and now you had nobody to comfort you for your cruelty.

A shaky sigh fogged the cool glass on his bottom lip before he took a necessary sip.

Something kind, finally.

The heat that crawled down his throat eased your next words enough for him to bare through it.

"What are you doing here?"

Your sad attempt at trying to make conversation set him off.

His nose scrunched with the effort it took to try to pull himself together. Just your voice dragged him so far back into that deep, never ending spiral of insecurity and uncertainty.

His similarly-dressed team taking up space and sound on the other side of the bar was the first thing anyone was bound to notice. After winning a game, they usually went out for drinks- but just like every other time he was dragged along, he found himself not having as much fun as he ought to.

He grew weary of their energy and insistence that he get a girlfriend to cheer him up.

This quiet separation from the pack, his sulky demeanor, and the pain he wore on his brow was evident to even the bartender. He knew you could see it and hated himself for it.

"Celebrating," His voice was so quiet it took you seconds after to completely register it.

Watchful eyes waited for your expression to shift. It made you as uncomfortable as he wanted, but he couldn't keep the fortitude to enjoy it. He opted for his glass in time to watch his ice cube drop, shift in his drink. It looked fuller, now.

He brought the bitter thing up to his lips and handled it astoundingly well.

Your pretty eyelashes looked prettier when you looked away from him. Longer and fuller when you weren't facing him. That flawless makeup, caressed by the soft, warm light of the bar must've taken you hours.

You were different. He tried not to notice.

"How have you been?"

It wasn't an apology. His fingers slipped on the gathered condensation and he hesitated to take another sip so soon.

"Busy," He looked at your glittery shoulder when you faced him again, "You?"

There were a few moments of silence that he didn't notice. His low-lidded study of your little dress was soothing the burn in the back of his throat, a painful mix from needing to cry and the strength of his drink.

Part of him was relieved you hadn't let yourself go. You were a divine gift that any man would be glad to have, and his opinion, should be willing to break himself over.

The dress honored his useless devotion well.

Part of him would never forgive you for not throwing yourself into a pit of despair for your heartless words. His eyes hardened at once, now at the curve of your thighs that stayed crossed under the bar.

"Can you look at me?"

When his eyes shot up to meet yours, it felt like you were staring down a wounded animal.

The full weight of your decision dawned on you and you realized, all at once, that you had been wrong for years.

You hadn't spared him the way you convinced yourself that you had.

Something reminiscent of fear flashed across your face. He left you to think and chugged the rest of his whiskey. His ice clinked in the glass when he set it down and flagged the bartender.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Slipped out, a little too early, as you both watched the glass refill with golden-brown color.

He squinted down and you were grateful it wasn't a look directed straight at you.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," He snapped as soon as your company left.

With more time spent sitting next you, basking in your presence for the first time in so long, and his inhibition slowly fading, he felt himself start to get belligerent.

"I was-," You sighed, trying to control the frustration in your voice because you knew it wouldn't help, "I was trying to give you more options."

It was quiet for a long minute.

The hateful stare he kept on his own hand told you he was not convinced.

"I knew it would be tough on us, with you travelling for the team."

A tough brow softened, just a little. His thumb slid against the rim of the glass, thoughtful, about a better time. When he had something else to look forward to other than practice, or games.

"I didn't wanna put you through that. I didn't want- to make you choose."

His life was empty beyond the court. He couldn't imagine any scenario that would've played out to be worse than this. His face stung when he spared a sideways glance at your pretty face.

"So you chose for me," He rolled his cloudy eyes.

His words were like acid.

You couldn't swallow the lump in your throat. You turned from him, angry that he wasn't doing well, guilty that it had to do with something you thought was a good decision.

A big breath through your nose.

"And I'm sorry," You bit the inside of your cheek when he froze, "I really can't express how sorry I am."

The apology wasn't something he could rationalize as anything other than genuine, and heartfelt.

Confusion ran through him, made much worse by his buzz-- his eyes burned and he furiously wiped one eye. He had convinced himself you were secretly an emotionless, terrible person for doing that to him. The fact that you could possibly atone for it made him wildly uncomfortable.

His chair scraped when he pushed himself up to stand and face you. He kept one arm on the bar.

"I wanted to make it work!"

His version of loud was by no means actually loud, but it still startled you.

"And- you didn't," He was already back to a soft mutter, but it was wobbly when he kept talking, "I don't know what else I could've done, to be enough for you."

"You were enough," You instantly argued, "I just-,"

Another frustrated, teary sigh, "I didn't think I was."

It must've been muscle memory. Suna didn't realize he was wiping a tear from your face until his hand was already back down by his side.

He hated seeing you cry so much that it trumped his own lingering, maladaptive thoughts. Especially when you looked so good.

Your small, sad smile at his chivalry eased the weight in his chest.

He felt like he could breathe for the first time in years.

"You were everything to me," You admitted.

He had to take his seat at that. Closer, this time.

masterlist.

requests open.

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[coal15]

My current theories re: Buddie vs Tevan after 7x10 and which ship is "obviously winning" . . . while I would like something definitive and rock solid, I think, because tv shows LOVE to do this, it will depend on which set of shipper goggles you're wearing.

Ex: Buck spends the bulk of the episode supporting Eddie through his crisis, but ends the episode still all cozy with Tommy:

Buddie fans reaction: He could have cared less about Tommy for most of the episode, it was all about his relationship with Eddie and Christopher. He will always ditch Tommy for Eddie because they're in love and s8 will be about them realizing and admitting their feelings! Buddie obvious endgame!

Tevan fans reaction: What kind of person wouldn't drop everything to help their family of 6 years thru a massive crisis?! And Buck was still all heart-eyes at Tommy, even if their scenes were brief. Nothing hinted at a break up. They're fine and will be further developed/deepened in s8 when we have a full 18 episodes to work with. Tevan obvious endgame!

Ahem. I guess we'll see where my opinion falls after the end credits roll (and also reading interviews over the next few days)

Meanwhile, some stray theories I've seen floating around:

Tommy getting all butthurt or pissed about Eddie's stuff taking up most of Buck's attention, which I guess is possible but I highly doubt it. He's an adult and probably realizes Eddie simply needs more of Bucks attention atm. And as a boyfriend(?) of a few months(?) he has no right to expect first priority status in that situation. I'll be surprised if this is what happens.

There's also the "Tommy flat out tells Buck he has romantic feelings for Eddie" theory. Then there's "either Buck, Eddie, or both realize their romantic feelings, this made clear though flim/acting/soundtrack choices. But nothing is said out loud so Buck does still end the season dating Tommy. Doomed but still together. Which would annoy me like crazy, but hey. TV. Sometimes it's a hellscape out here.

As far as Eddie feeling isolated I've seen "Buck tells Eddie I'm sorry but this is something I can't fix for you, only you can figure yourself out," I've seen "Eddie realizes he's in love with Buck but can't say anything because he thinks Buck is happy with Tommy and doesn't want to ruin that, so he withdraws instead" and I've seen "given the religious motif in Eddie's storyline in s7 and the fact that his worst decisions almost always revolve around trying to find the right woman cuz that's what he's 'supposed to do,' he wonders if maybe that's not the life he's meant for. He turns to God in his isolation and wonders if perhaps he's meant for the clergy." (I gotta admit it would be interesting to see Eddie become a Firehouse Chaplain)

When asked about Eddie's s8 storyline Ryan said something about him 'adjusting to a whole new lifestyle' (or something to that effect) which could easily be a gay realization and coming out arc (which would most likely but not necessarily mean buddie endgame). Or, if he has decided to join the clergy, wildly transforming his relationship with God and perception of his role in society. Both options are pretty drastic, interesting changes. The 'gay realization' thing wouldn't be such a huge change if Eddie came from a different history/background. Coming out would be harder and more traumatic for him than it was for Buck, who pretty much just had to incorporate an awareness of liking guys into his perception of self, then life went on.

I can see this season ending a lot of different ways for Eddie, Buck, and Tommy, both as individuals and parts of a ship. (also, totally unrelated to buddie or tevan I can't wait to find out what this season's big cliffhanger is going to be. Is it about Henren? Madney? Bathena? Any of the individual characters? A new huge disaster?) **pins and needles**

#911 on abc #buddie #bucktommy #tevan #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #so many possibilities #the stress of shipping #I just wanna know #so I can freak out

[scarletwritesshit]

🐉 Jiyan x F!Rover 🐉 Dragon's Faith

Rover stood by Jiyan’s side, her body tense and nervous. She wasn’t nervous due to simply being in close proximity to him, as they were both well adjusted to each other’s presence. This time around, however, things were far more properly structured than a battle on the fly or a casual hangout. She tried her best to look imposing and refined, as a Resonator of her caliber theoretically would be, but she couldn’t free herself of the nerves still bothering her.

Just how does he do it? she thought, looking at Jiyan. He’s so noble and imposing, yet it all came to him naturally. I don’t even know who I am, let alone the minute details of how I’m supposed to present myself.

Imposing glare. Straight posture. As still as a rock. Jiyan made it look easy. Whenever Rover took a deep breath to try and steady herself, she only succeeded in making herself look like a paranoid chicken. She could not figure out why she all of a sudden felt so on edge.

Jiyan, though focused on supervising the soldiers as they practiced, noticed Rover’s poorly hidden anxiety out of the corner of his eye. He put his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to gently get her attention, but she jolted out of her skin.

"I apologize, but I did not mean to startle you," Jiyan said. "You seem awfully tense, is something the matter?"

"No. I’m perfectly fine. I think," Rover said, taking a deep, shaky breath.

She was not fine. Rover felt as if Jiyan was silently judging her down to each individual breath. She even felt as if she was incorrectly using her own two feet to stand.

"Are you a little nervous?" he asked.

"Me? Nervous? I’m absolutely fine," she spat out.

"There’s no reason to lie. I can see you practically trembling in your boots."

"...Okay, maybe I am a little nervous. But can you blame me? I’ve never had to stand in front of a well-respected army before. I think."

Jiyan gave Rover a reassuring rub on her shoulder.

"Relax. You hardly need not worry about supervision as I call most of the shots here."

"But what if I’m, oh I don’t know, standing improperly?"

"…Standing improperly? I don’t believe there is such a thing as that. Your posture is fine and you are acting respectfully, if that is what you are concerned about.”

"Er…not exactly. You make everything look effortless, and it makes me wonder if I should even be standing on the same level as you."

"Of course you are. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have been able to fend off the onslaught. Cut yourself some slack, my love."

"It’s one thing for us to unwind together in private, but you’re a completely different person while in command of your troops. I can’t help but feel intimidated."

Jiyan glanced to his side and gave her a reassuring smile. Although he had to keep an eye on his troops as they trained, he could spare a few brief seconds for Rover. She was just as important to him as any individual force. Perhaps Jiyan would consider her to be even more important, but he was in no position to be playing favorites.

"I don’t even feel worthy enough to be with you,” she continued.

"This theoretical concept of worth you speak of is of no concern to me. I’ve been rather fond of you since the time we first met."

Rover tilted her head. "Really?"

"Indeed so. Even if you were not as incredible as you have proven yourself to be, I still would love you dearly regardless. Besides, we’ve endured literal hell side by side together. I have more than enough of a reason to have complete faith in you."

Rover took a deep breath and once more attempted to steady herself. Jiyan was rather insistent that she was fine, and that she had no reason to be so self-conscious. Still, she could not shake the nagging feeling that she was out of place standing next to the general.

Jiyan pulled Rover in close and rubbed her side in an attempt to soothe her further.

“Relax,” Jiyan said, softly looking at Rover. “Unnecessary stress is detrimental to your health."

Rover looked over at him and nodded her head in acknowledgement. She knew that she would have to relax, but that was far easier said than done. Jiyan lifted his hand away from her shoulder and kept it still as Rover noticed a green Loong manifesting from behind him and coiling down his outstretched arm. He held out his hand as it slithered past his palm and gazed at Rover, tail still wrapped around his lower arm. She could feel her anxiety increasing once again, as now she had the general’s Loong watching her every move.

"It’s not just my trust you have," Jiyan said.

The Loong nudged Rover’s shoulder, like a cat headbutting its beloved owner. Her arms remained tense, despite how gentle each nudge was. It was kind of adorable, and Rover did want to pet it, but she held still and stared at it nervously out of fear of accidentally disturbing it.

"Go on," he said, "I know you want to."

Rover held out the palm of her hand, reluctantly inviting the Loong to slither into it. It looped around her arm once, still remaining somewhat wrapped around Jiyan, then rested its head in her hand. She scratched the underside of it gently, and it quickly melted into her hold.

"See? Nothing to worry about, love."

The Loong slithered in the air around her, and Rover kept her hand held out. It coiled completely around her arm and nudged its head into Rover’s open palm. Despite her ever-present nerves, it strangely seemed to be soothed by her presence. In fact, it almost seemed fully trusting of her.

"It… seems friendly," Rover noted, still wary.

"Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?"

"I guess if you’re truthfully fond of me, then I’m not sure, actually."

Jiyan’s companion continued nuzzling against her hand, making a sound as close to a purr as a small beast could manage. If even his Loong trusted her, then she ultimately had no reason to be so tense around him, even if it did take a little bit for her to force herself to calm down. After a few headbutts to her palm, the Loong dissipated, and Jiyan smiled and nodded with approval.

"You’re overthinking. Deep breaths, and soon you’ll be leading the troops right by my side."

"Y-yes sir," she said.

Jiyan squinted his eyes at her.

"I mean, yes, Jiyan."

"Much better."

#jiyan #wuthering waves #fanfic #fanfiction #female rover #wuwa rover #jiyan x rover #jirover

[hiding-in-the-vault]

Hi there :D!! Hope you're doing well. I wanted to ask you for advice. I'm working on a pos!discduo zombie AU story and it will be my proper first AU I've ever worked on, and I'm planning a lot for the plot, characters, dynamics, etc. My question is, what do you think it's better to make the AU on, as a fanfiction or a comic?? I love to read fanfics and comics about the dsmp so much and I'm indecisive about how to bring out to the world my AU, because I think both thngs have their pro's and con's, and since I've never write or make a comic before idk what to do. Anyways hope you have a good Thursday and I'm excited for a new part of No Man's Land!! (No pressure tho!!)

Aw :D

Well I have both written fics and drawn comics for years, so I’ll try to keep my answer somewhat simple.

I agree that both have pros and cons, and I wouldn’t say one is superior to the other, personally.

Off the bat, I think writing is much more beginner friendly. If you don’t have experience doing either, I’d probably lean that way first and see how it goes. Maybe you’ll find yourself being drawn more to comics later, but it’s probably safer to start there, than the end up in comic purgatory.

I’m sure it’s not the same for everyone, but in my experience, making a long-term comic is very draining, depending on how much detail you want to do. I don’t want to scare people away from it, but there’s been many times I’ve started something and gotten sick of it long before it would have reached any sort of ending. I’ve combatted that with No Mans Land by not stressing about upload speed, and also allowing my style to change in the process. (Which always drove me crazy before. But now if I want to suddenly change which brush I do all the line-art in, I will.) Through attempting several webcomics over time, I’ve learned a lot about my process and my weaknesses and how to get around them. It’s important to know yourself and know how you’d handle that sort of thing, which you can only do by trying. I would tell anyone interested in writing a comic to start with a short one-shot before trying to commit to something that may take years. (Which I learned the hard way lol)

But also. Consider doing both! I’d recommend writing a fic to start, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t also throw in some shorter comics to add flavor; for extra scenes that don’t make it into the fic, or even just drawing out your favorite scenes. I’ve done it for my old fics a few times ^^

#vault asks #I’m down to ramble more in DMs if anyone wants more of my comic wisdom 😂 #or in asks but I try to be more brief here #my forest sprit AU was a huge learning experience for me #nearly every installment has a drastically different style as I figured out what worked best for me #subtle style things still change and evolve in NML too

[shadowqnights]

loverman question here, how did you come up with your rewrite of katelyn? lowkey katelyn doesn’t get enough love outside of “hot strong woman” so i think it would be cool to hear how you decided her backstory and changes you made like her family, her last name, guard academy relationships, and her role in future arcs

HI I LOVE MY REWRITE/LOVERMAN KATELYN! Let's chat about her cause I'm insane.

Honestly, I think loverman!Katelyn is one of my most authentic and up-to-date rewrite depictions that I wouldn't change much of when it came down to new-rewrite stuff. I have a LOT to say about her though so this is going to be long, my bad! I'll break down like each specific explanation for things you listed here into Sections, and then anything else I think of can just slot in.

Backstory and Family Life

I think the biggest changes lay here, and I think I actually got most of the like backstory inspiration here from Garroth. They are fables for each other, warnings about how the other could have turned out. Of course, they've got significant differences, and Garroth's position as the 'heir' is far more significant for O'Khasis than Katelyn's is, but essentially I'm passionate about Garroth and Katelyn growing up as peers and equals around the same age in O'Khasis. They both understand each other, even watching each other from a distance, being raised in rich O'Khasis neighbourhoods as eldest children expected to take up the mantle of their parents' expectations and legacies. They both attended Guard Academy together, but they weren't exactly friends there.

Katelyn's parents and their personalities are somewhat borrowed from their MyStreet counterparts - Elizabeth being a sharp and cunning socialite of sorts with strong ties to the Ro'meave family, hence where Katelyn and Garroth's relationship stems from. They would see each other regularly at dinners and large-scale events. Her father Eric is a very well-renowned guard from Tu'la; he taught her how to fight. She has a number of younger brothers, one of which is still Kacey but I haven't been able to write yet. Garroth's obviously the eldest of his brothers, and they both take up a lot of duties that involve caring for their younger siblings and trying to keep them safe from the more mature burdens that come with high O'Khasis society.

I think the big reason I wanted to incorporate O'Khasis into Katelyn's backstory was so that she and Garroth could have this interesting dynamic of both understanding and hatred specifically because of that understanding. They're not confused about each other, they knew exactly why they ended up where they did, they just don't like it because it reminds the other too much of themselves. They are each other's cautionary tales. Katelyn serves as this vision of hell for Garroth where he sees exactly what kind of terror he could have become if he had stayed as a guard in O'Khasis - he could have become a significant member of the Jury, and even if Zane had not been controlling it, he still would have become an obedient soldier. He despises her because he's afraid of that person, but at the same time wants to see her free of it because he knows, just like he once had to figure out, that she deserves better and she can be free. Seeing Garroth in Phoenix Drop disgusts Katelyn because she knows that's what she could have been. She could have run away and chosen to begin a new life, but that would mean abandoning her family and abandoning her dream. She hates that he shunned his responsibilities but she still burdened hers, and now they are exactly where the other might long to be. She wishes that she could have run, too - in a way, I think it also stings to think of Garroth living an honest country life in a small distant town, not just because that's what she could have made for herself, but also because she knows that Jeffory was raised in Bright Port and very much only became a guard to be able to go home and protect that small, cozy lifestyle. Only to also be taken in by the city and lose himself there by working for Zane. She envies Garroth because she knows that so many lives were stolen by the Jury's bounds, and now even those small-town boys have become killers.

By the time they see each other as adults again for the first time, Garroth is realising that maybe he would be more useful working to enact change from within O'Khasis - whereas Katelyn is realising that while she's helping her family from within O'Khasis, she isn't actually doing any moral good and that Zane has deceived her. They were both corrupted by their superiors back home, and now strive to find any sort of identity apart from what they were Made for. Garroth was raised for nobility but strains to hold the sword; Katelyn was made into a weapon by Zane but struggles to reclaim the young girl she was prior to that. She feels satisfied that she's taken such a far turn and separated herself from her mother, but has somehow also betrayed her father in the process of trying to protect him. She has lost herself in the sword, and since there is no amount of righteousness or goodness in being wielded by Zane, she has disappointed him.

Garroth and Katelyn disgust each other because they secretly want what the other has. They are both wanting for more, but hate each other for their cravings because while Garroth is at his best, Katelyn is at her worst, and then the other way around as well. That's why I inserted Katelyn where she is. Their bond in MyStreet is equally as interesting, but I think it's so fun to explore in MCD. They contrast and complement each other so beautifully. They even looked pretty identical as babies, since hair dye is real in my rewrites, and Katelyn didn't start altering her hair until she met Ivy. I'm fairly sure somewhere in my Ro'meave family tree that they're distant cousins or something.

NOTE: I wish I could tell you that her last name has like a deep and interesting meaning but when I tell you that I really don't remember when or how I came up with it, it just happened at random when I was mushing words in my brain for the PDH rewrite roster. Her surname is La Vatris, which I guess originally I was trying to go for something French considering la, but vatris literally has 0 meaning to my knowledge in. any language. But that's her name now and I don't want to change it, I just have to deal with the fact that it means nothing and I have no idea how I came up with it. I think largely because it complements Ro'meave nicely, considering their families are so interwoven.

Guard Academy

I love playing with my little dolls at the Guard Academy. In general I think I love fleshing out how the MCD guards were at the academy because I imagine this is how gleeful Jess was when writing PDH. For so many characters, this period is treated like their awkward, vague little blip in their lives with no real significance. They went to school x2. The End. Like no. This is the juiciest time of their lives. These are teenagers-young adults with swords. I'm putting them in fantasy high school. Fuck you. The children yearn to hit each other with weapons.

The answers to your question here are actually way simpler, since Katelyn doesn't have that many academy relationships and the ones she does have were just important enough to me to want to form earlier in her life.

Like mentioned before, she knew Garroth in the academy but they weren't really friends. In fact, it's really awkward for her to see him around, despite the fact that they probably need each other. It's plain embarrassing. Garroth's in this horrifically awkward period where he's struggling to socially relate to a lot of the other kids, who aren't exactly raised to be Lords, much less told by their fathers that they'll be a king one day. She's also actually around a year younger than him I thiiiink? They have different classes and entered at different times. Ignore him for now his only purpose is for like incredibly awkward meetings and for Zane and Garte to visit to pick him up sometimes.

There are only really two relationships that mattered enough to me to like, build a foundation upon the Guard Academy. Ivy and Jeffory.

Ivy.

Ivy is Katelyn's roommate, and they get along fucking horribly. They kind of hate each other all of the time, which provides great base foundation for the future where they have this toxic yuri going on, and it becomes that Ivy is the only person she can trust to communicate with about her family because they have so much hateful dirt on each other that they either have to work together or just betray each other. God I'm trying to think of how to explain Katelyn and Ivy without talking too much.

Well firstly I think it's important and definitely not projecting to write core single-sex boarding school experiences where you hate your roommate so much that you are a little bit in love with them. I will have to do a separate post talking about Ivy at some people if anyone's interested. On a surface level, they effortlessly grind each other's gears in a way that no one else can. Pure negative vibes. Ivy is relentless obsessive energy in a way that grates on Katelyn's ears specifically - Katelyn's passive aggressive silences and snarky comments are designed specifically to piss Ivy off. They fight constantly, to the point that it's so familiar that it's welcomed. Katelyn often remarks that she has never met someone so annoying; Ivy would say the same about her, despite the fact that they have such starkly different personalities. But at the same time they endure each other - Ivy dyes Katelyn's hair and she never stops after that day. Katelyn looks out for her and undergoes a well-needed arc, just as Garroth has to, about their privilege. Ivy's obsession with the boys (and specifically Garroth) serves to alienate Katelyn as she struggles to place a name to the feeling of liking women (a gut feeling provoked additionally by the paintings of Menphia hung in the academy, if you've read Loverman).

I also included her relationship with Ivy early cause it's a really strong introduction to their future arcs. Ivy mentions off-handedly a couple of times these 'conspiracy theories' - and some of them truly are conspiracies, but others have foundation - things like O'Khasis planning to reinstate monarchy + rebellion against the Ro'meaves spreading throughout the city, even things like dissent in Tu'la - all of these things fed to her by her parents, but still challenge how Katelyn sees her home. I'll have to find the screenshots where I talked about it before, that Ivy is from a struggling small town forcibly taken into O'Khasis Alliance and has a very strong hatred of O'Khasis only to later be drawn into its luxuries and sticks incredibly close to Zane. She has a reverse arc of Katelyn, who on the contrary grows up being proud of her home but then later becomes disconnected from it. Life in the Jury is so competitive that they literally are put at each other's throats to vy for Zane's attention. They are bound together, but never exactly enemies, but never friends either. Hateful toxic yuri who have to stick together for their own benefit. Ivy keeps watch over Katelyn's family (half of which being rebels + fake their own deaths in order to hide) when she is away in Phoenix Drop. In return, Katelyn fights hard to save her life in the future. She and Ivy, as well as both of their families, are strongly interwoven with the future of O'Khasis and the Jury. Post-timeskip, they have a lot to do with those rebel rumours and Tu'la.

Jeffory.

I've written so much already I am so sorry. Jeffory is a little simpler than Ivy thank god. The reason that their relationship is so strong in the academy is literally just because I want them as closely bonded as possible. I want them to have years of friendship and sexual tension under their belt. I want it to hurt so horrifically when he dies. I want her to have to bandage up a wound that keeps on overflowing despite her best efforts, one that never stops bleeding because he is quite literally an organ inside her that she needs to live. He is her first friend at the academy and quite literally the kindest person that she has ever met. She is so fucking filled with guilt over Jeffory - not just his death, but how his life changed for the worse because he met her. Despite being standoffish and cautious (think of a puffed up stray cat showing teeth to try and protect itself), he shows her complete innocent kindness. It never breaks throughout their time at the academy - even when he is bullied relentlessly, he remains golden of heart, and sticks up for her. They are incredibly close. Sexual tension isn't really the correct word. It feels like they were holding their breath for their entire lives but the release never quite came to fruition. Their friendship was so whole and pure that it just felt like it should have been a natural next step. They were best friends and they were in love with each other for years but neither of them were ever ready.

Jeffory was very much the One good thing in Katelyn's life. If she had anything, she had him. That's why it's so important for them to meet so early in Guard Academy, to be each other's first true real friends. Good enough friends for him to refuse to go back to Bright Port just to be able to stay with her in O'Khasis. He fell for her first, very early, but when she fell for him I think she was very scared. They've kissed but never slept together. By the time she had come to terms with her feelings, he was head over heels for a darling woman he met at a tavern, and that was that! She loved him enough to support him completely. She loved him! She helped to raise Abby, like, god. That's why its so important that Katelyn has Abby in Loverman. Because she was her father's everything but that little girl still looks like her mother, a constant reminder of not only Jeffory's death, but his marriage (that you kind of accidentally assisted in breaking, by the way!). How do you even live with that. Well you don't, actually, you become the weapon that your master wants to make of you and you start blindly swinging as if that will bring him back. Jeffory is literally the symbol of a golden heart, precious purity and righteousness, and she did everything wrong. He was everything right in her world, and when he died, his "ghost" becomes a constant presence haunting her, chastising her for every violence committed for Zane's sake. She is wholly consumed with this fool's assassination mission, because if its an act of revenge and its someone else's fault, then she can't blame herself for his death anymore.

(Reluctant to fully explain everything seeing as there's so much I haven't written in Loverman yet but I'm definitely willing to talk more about their relationship if prompted!)

So yeah. It's important to me that they meet as children and grow up together. It makes his death all the more tragic and upsetting for her, and his 'goodness' kind of forces her to confront the worst parts of herself. Of which there is so much of.

Future Arcs

I've already briefly mentioned Katelyn's involvement with rebels and that she and Ivy have plans to do with O'Khasis/Jury/Tu'la post-timeskip, so I won't say much more on those until I've actually brainstormed them out fully. Those are probably the most concrete future arcs I have for Katelyn, but there's one other big change I made with significance that I wanna yap about.

MAGICK. Honestly giving Katelyn fire magick I think was one of my best decisions and I don't really know fully where it came from, just that I wanted it. Partially, it was for her to be Aphiah's teacher and for them to study both of their magicks together. In another way, it's a very literal/visual way to address Katelyn's anger. It's a literal take on her title as the Fire Fist, in which people only think that her hits produce sparks, but in reality it is fire. It provides a good contrast with a number of characters, like Abby who is implied to inherit a similar power from her mother, aforementioned Aph, and also separates her a little from Garroth in terms of raw talent. It is unpredictable and took her years to be able to control it to the point of safely wielding in battle, and even so has to use gloves + weapons to contain it. It reacts actively to Aph's magicks. It serves as a rough patch during Guard Academy where she has a very self-isolating Frozen-type arc where she is afraid to hurt anyone, and even injures Jeffory just because she got too happy with him. It's a cruel thing, that forces her to be stiff and unfeeling because any energetic emotion, anger or excitement, will start a fire, especially during hormonal teenage years. It also opens up an interesting conversation about the origin of magicks in my MCD rewrite and the certain levels of magicks. The most distrusted of which being Godspeak, the first form of magick discovered prior to the Golden Age (birth of the Divine Warriors), but also closely followed by the properties held by Katelyn and Aph, fire and light respectively, which can be used to not only heal/accelerate the growth of the land, but also to burn. Abby's would also fall under that category, that being ice that's canonically scarred Katelyn in Loverman before. So her magick is definitely a great way to talk more about that and I'm so keen to develop that further in her future arcs.

[Fun fact being that forms of Godspeak are incredibly rare, and include things like hypnosis in the form of mind control or memory-play. If that rings a bell for any other magick user :) ]

Oh my god okay I need to stop here I think I'm about to pass out sorry if any of this is worded weird I'm about to fall asleep but I suddenly got plagued with the need to answer this ask. I finally found the words. And like as always if anyone wants more clarification on a specific point they find interesting feel free to ask or even dm! You can tell I like to talk about MCD + Rewrite clearly. Have fun and god please tell me your thoughts on anything.

#minecraft diaries #mcd #aphmau #loverman #loverman rambling #katelyn the firefist #im so sorry anon i dont think you bargained for 3k of katelyn analysis when you sent that ask. nor did you expect for there to be like. #5k+ more sitting in my brain that i was like. making an effort not to yap about here #i was trying to be brief i promise #i don't think it worked though #sorry you guys this is the brand now. just yapping. #i love mcd and i love my rewrite and im tired of pretending like i dont

[theramblingvoid]

Say what you will about Sunless Skies but I think at this point I've met more nonbinary NPCs than I have gendered ones and that I think is Very based

#sunless skies #fallen London #don't mind me i just need more people to play this game. i am in the Trenches over here #<- played 7 hours straight yesterday #<- trying to not play any today and probably will fail to resist #other cool thing is aside from two brief mentions i can think of almost none of the characters get their gender overtly discussed #which is like. i know there's divided opinions about that but i really really REALLY appreciate it #when a guy can just be they/themmed for an entire text block and no questions asked no explanations given #and when that happens Multiple times #can confidently say I've never seen that done in any piece of non Failbetter media #i feel so at home here :) #<- is actively being chewed on by a cantankeri

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

the thing about me is that having a crush is fun for the first little while and then I just slowly become more and more overcome with insecurity about it

#like yeah he's friendly and nice to me but I know there's no chance. NONE. that it means anything at all. #no way. like there's no way he'd ever see me that way. We Just Work Together #and it sucks because I genuinely do enjoy just being friends with him! like there aren't many people I've met #who I genuinely click with and we get along well like that. and we definitely clicked as friends yknow?? #and I'm super glad for that. I just feel so stupid for being in love with him when I'm too loud and too awkward and i fidget too much #and I'm just. not an attractive person on ANY level #so like even having a crush is so unrealistic and I hate that. he's the only guy I've ever genuinely wanted to be with #(beyond a brief infatuation that I knew wouldn't work out i was just kinda caught up in the theater stuff yknow) #like.... UGGGHHHH this is bringing up SO many insecurities bc I genuinely want more than a friendship #and gurt called me out the other day by asking how important it is to me that this particular guy likes me back #and I had to play it down bc it's SO important to me like. WHAT am I supposed to do with this??? he's the only guy #I've ever been able to envision a life with and I KNOW daydreaming like that is probably bad and dumb and I just feel #SO stupid for how I'm feeling about this whole thing and yet. I go to church and work with him and it's just really easy and nice #and we work well together and get along and it's just GOOD #and I want that forever #and idk what God is trying to do here but it's making me feel SO STUPID all the time!!!!!! girl help!!!!!! #Lu rambles

[polygondotcomvideoproducer]

Uni lecture is making me think about my future for a minute and auuuggghhhh the agonies

#personal #taking a brief break from it bc the feeling hasnt quite overwhelmed me yet but i dont think I'm going to be okay by the end of it! #its asking me to consider what my strengths are. what kind of role I'd like to have in the industry when i graduate #these are questions that i SHOULD certainly have answers to but they kind of just make me not wanna be alive yk? bc i have no answers #I'm not really good at much. like the things I'm best at I'm still completely unexceptional #what are my strengths? don't have any. next question #what job do i want to have in the industry? well that requires an answer to the first question doesn't it #not to mention it requires me to think about graduating and having a job and I've simply never imagined myself getting that far #and i can only give this so much of my attention span bc I'm also thinking about how hard i failed my modules from last semester #my best grade this year has been a c #one of them is a marginal fail meaning i do the reassessment this year (i think) #the other is a hard f. what does that mean? do i resit the entire course next year? maybe #and i can't look it up just yet bc i need to make it through the lecture bc I'm really far behind this other module already #and it's only week 3 and i have a presentation tomorrow #and if i stop watching it im not convinced I'll bring myself to start watching again! #so instead i was just sitting here trying not to get overwhelmed by all of the things i should be thinking about!!! #that's why I'm making the post tbh. just to organise my thoughts and get it out of my system and give myself time to breathe #and my phone keeps buzzing while i type and if it does that one more time i will launch us both out of the window I'm so fucking done #semester has barely begun and im so fucking overwhelmed already #I've joked about being the token nt mutual before but honestly the past few years I've just been getting gradually more convinced I'm not #this can't be how everyone else is experiencing life. surely #like dude I'm so out of fucking touch w the concept of being a human #so in summary: augh the agonies

[paragonrobits]

some important calvin and hobbes facts in case you haven't read the original comic strip in a long time or only absorbed stuff on it from memes and out of context bits on here:

Calvin's last name has never been given, and neither has any of his parent's names. This was actually why his uncle Max only showed up for a brief storyline; the creator of the comic, Bill Watterson, ultimately felt that while it was fine to have him as someone for his parents to talk to, it felt far too awkward to never have Max refer to them by name and he never made a return appearance.

The general tone of the comic is fairly light-hearted, with a big emphasis on goofy slapstick comedy contrasted by clever wordplay and often surprising adult-centered jokes that'll hit you like a slap. A big part of the comedy is, as Watterson put it (paraphrased) "It's really funny to me when people express deeply stupid ideas with really fancy terminology." One notable example you might have seen is that one bit where Calvin asks his mom for money to buy a Satan-worshiping rock album and his mom replies that there's nothing genuine about them and they're just putting on the attitude for shock value, and comisserates with Calvin as he deplores that mainstream nihilism can't be trusted. He concludes that childhood is disillusioning.

There is a LOT of criticism of the extreme materialism and selfish mentality of the late 80s, when the comic was initially written. This may go a long way to explain how its aged so well; much of what it criticizes resonates well with people today.

Bill Watterson views comic strips a legitimate form of artwork, and repeatedly fought to have more space to draw more beautiful and artistic backgrounds, which was a very hard fight and unpopular even with other comic strip artists. He eventually did win some compromises and a lot of Calvin And Hobbes' artwork shows it, with the use of space to indicate time as well as a sharp contrast between the often plain environments of mundane life contrasted by the wildly beautiful imagery of Calvin's imagination (which often sports realistic depictions in an art shift of sorts).

Hobbes is explicitly not an imaginary friend, by word of Watterson himself. We don't know WHAT he is exactly, and Hobbes is apparently unaware of the strange nature of his reality; people look at him and only see an ordinary stuffed tiger plushie, but he has a tangible effect on the world that would be physically impossible for Calvin to do on his own. He's apparently been around for a while, and was apparently around when Calvin was a young baby.

On that note; Hobbes has implicitly killed (notably treated as both a gag and also with the vibe of 'he's a tiger, duh') and while he doesn't do it again on-screen, he doesn't have any moral issues about it. Calvin claims that he's never had trouble bringing Hobbes to school because the last time he did, Hobbes killed and ate a bully named Tommy Chestnut and simply comments that it was gross and he needed a bath. Calvin's tried to repeat this again, but Hobbes was grossed out at the thought having to eat a kid raw and not being allowed to use an oven first, or complaining that children are too fattening.

Hobbes became gradually less human-like in body language and more like an actual cat in both body language and behavior; this was due to Watterson drawing more inspiration from his cat, who also inspired a lot of Hobbes' running gags, such as pouncing on Calvin when he got home. Several years into the syndication of the strip, Watterson's cat passed away, and he did a tribute to her with a comic strip of the two of them agreeing to try to dream together so they can keep playing when they have to sleep; Watterson's commentary (if I recall right), remarks on his cat: "We can see each other again in dreams."

#calvin and hobbes #queued