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from-the-clouds · 1 year

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texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. 1

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summary: When you let your new neighbor’s daughter inside to call her father from your landline, you never expect to be dealing with the fallout twenty years later. Series will take place before and after the outbreak, and is partially inspired by this request. Slow-burn(ish), eventual smut. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 6.4k chapter warnings: mentions of/encounters with a drunk person, references to absent parents, i imply that both reader (and joel) like pineapple on pizza. a/n: i need to get my shit together and make a proper masterlist/post for this series but i'm absolute garbage with photoshop/making collages so that is a project for another day!! for now, i wanted to get this first part out to ya'll. i watched a playthrough of the game too so ill be including some references to that throughout the series. this will be some hallmark-movie ass romance so strap in!! this chapter was super fun to write and i loved writing for reader and sarah, give it a read and let me know what you think!

-March 7, 2003-

“Excuse me? Ma’am? Excuse me?”

The voice behind you is so timid you don’t hear it right away, especially not when your phone is pressed to your ear with your shoulder as you sort through the mail, your coworker droning on and on…

“Ma’am?”

It’s a little more forceful this time, a little closer too, and that’s when it finally gets your attention. Turning around on your heel, you find a young girl standing behind you, one hand hooked in the strap of her backpack that hangs off of one thin shoulder, the other worrying about the butterfly pendant of the necklace she’s wearing.

You recognize her immediately as one of your neighbors, the girl from across the street whose name you didn’t know yet, because you only moved in about two months ago. You’d met the man who you assumed was her father – Joe? Or was it Joel?, you couldn’t remember – the first day you’d moved in, but there had been so much going on that you were too flustered to be engaged.

It’s a Friday, but apparently that doesn’t keep you safe from work calls after you leave the office, because you’re getting an earful of a whole lot of hot air, so much so that you’re probably unintentionally frowning at the girl in front of you while you try to follow the conversation.

“....I think you’re right, but they’re not going to budge unless we sweeten the deal somehow-”

“Can I call you back?” you blurt, ultimately thankful for the interruption. You don’t even wait for his response before you click off your blackberry, sighing, looking up. “Hi, yeah, sorry. Can I help you?”

“Uhm, I’m Sarah…..Miller….I live across the street?” her voice goes up slightly at the end of the sentence, like she’s unsure, even as she points to the home behind her, a two-story place that’s considerably bigger than your own, but maybe a little older. “I uhm…I locked myself out and I was wondering if I could use your phone…to call my dad at work? Please?”

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “That’s fine. Just uh..follow me I guess.”

Tucking the stack of mail in your hand under your arm, you wave her after you, your kitten heels clicking on the hard pavement of your driveway.

“Be careful here,” you warn her as you step over the middle step to your front porch that has rotted, and gives easily under any amount of weight. You’d learned about it the hard way, last week, and still had the bruise on your leg to show for it.

Your front door is open, and Sarah pauses to take off her shoes when you do, a pair of beat-up white Converse that have been doodled on in Sharpie.

“Here, phone’s right there,” you lead her into the kitchen and point to the landline. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Uhm, could I just get some water…please?” She stands rigidly in your kitchen, rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Of course,” you reach into the cabinet. Once the glass is filled and placed in front of her, you retreat to your front living area to give her some privacy while she makes the call, sitting on the couch and scrolling through unanswered emails on your blackberry. Sarah mumbles indiscreetly, until you hear her call out again.

“Uhm…ma’am…I’m sorry, Miss…uh-what’s your last name?”

“Oh,” you sit up, giving her your first instead.

“Okay….Uh, my dad wants to talk to you…could you-”

“Sure,” you stand, stepping back into the kitchen, and accepting the receiver from the girl.

“Hello?”

“Hey, this is Joel Miller,” you’re greeted with a low, gruff drawl. “You’re the new neighbor, I believe introduced myself a while back”

“Joel,” you repeat. It’s Joel. Joel, Joel, Joel, you force yourself to remember. Joel and Sarah Miller. “Yes, we met very briefly.”

“And it sounds like you met Sarah.”

“Yeah.”

On the other end of the line, you hear him hesitate, let out a long sigh. “Look, I hate to put you out, but she lost her key to the house, and she tells me the Adlers aren’t home. Do you think she could stay at your place until I’m able to get off work in a couple hours? I know it’s a big ask, but-”

“Of course she can,” you cut him off, peering over your shoulder at Sarah, who’s staring up at you expectantly with wide, terrified eyes.

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.”

“She’s probably got homework so I’ll make sure she stays quiet and out of your way. I’m so sorry, she should know better than this. It’s the second time this month this has happened, I keep tellin’ her-”

“Like I said, it’s not a big deal,” you cut him off, unintentionally, before wondering if it was rude you didn’t let him finish. It’s the native New Yorker in you, always in a rush and uninterested in drawn-out excuses. It’s an unfortunate instinct you’ve been trying to train yourself out of, particularly now that you’re living in the southwest. You soften your tone. “She can stay as long as she needs to, seriously. I don’t have anything planned.”

“Okay,” the voice on the other end sounds relieved. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I should be home by nine, I’ll call if anything changes. Thanks so much.”

“Of course, we’ll be fine. See you soon.” You hang up.

Sarah is still behind you when you turn around, clutching the glass of water she’s got in both hands like a vice. “You can stay here until your dad gets home,” you tell her.

“Did….did he sound mad?”

“Maybe a little stressed,” you’re honest. “But….not mad. I also don’t know him, so…”

“I bet he’ll be mad. This is the second time I’ve locked myself out this month because I forgot my key, and I already got lectured once that last time because he had to leave work early.”

“You made a mistake, people forget things…” you shrug. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

Her shoulders relax slightly, and she looks around like it’s the first time she’s actually registered where she’s at. “You have a nice house. It’s cozy.”

“Thanks,” you put your hands on your hips and look around too. “I’m still settling in, so not everything’s unpacked, but I could give you a tour if you’d like?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Ma’am. That tickles you. The address is still not something you’re used to hearing, even though you’ve only been in Austin a few years. “You can just call me by my first name, you know? Ma’am makes me feel old.”

“Really?” she grins, following you down the hall. “I can’t wait to be old.”

“You’ll feel differently someday,” you answer. “But…I guess it’s not so bad.”

Compared to the house you grew up in, your new house is nothing special, but it’s yours, and you couldn’t be prouder that you’d bought it all on your own. It’s a three-bedroom ranch, and you’d converted one of the rooms into an office for yourself. There’s a kitchen, living room, and den. But your favorite part is your large, screened in back porch that overlooks your yard. Now that it’s getting closer to summer, you sit outside in the mornings with a cup of tea and read the newspaper, listen to the birds.

“Can I do my homework at your kitchen table?” Sarah asks once you’re finished showing her around.

“Make yourself comfortable wherever,” you answer. “I could probably stand to get a little work done myself.”

Sarah sits at your dining room table, spreads out her books, and works quietly while you answer some emails and look over some contracts. You’ve got a big meeting Monday with a potential client, and a giant stack of term sheets to go through, but if you could manage to get some of it done tonight it might actually help you down the line. As much as possible, you try to avoid doing too much work outside of your office’s standard hours, but sometimes, it’s inevitable.

The subject Sarah has homework in is algebra, which renders you useless. Even when you have to do any accounting at work, you’re used to having a calculator nearby. It’d been awhile since you spent time with anyone as young as she was – in sixth grade, she told you – and it was starting to serve as a confirmation of your own dysfunctional childhood, because her carefree, sweet nature was so drastically different from anything you remembered feeling.

After about an hour, Sarah slowly starts to close her notebooks, zipping her pencils back up in plastic pouches. You look up from making revisions on a contract, the smell of blue ink heavy in the air around you. “I’m done,” she announces. “Could I sit on your couch and read?”

“Of course,” you answer. “Give me five and I’ll join you.”

It doesn’t take long for you to find a good stopping point, and you pack up your messenger bag, and join Sarah in the living room. “So…I’m starting to get hungry,” you tell her. “Are you?”

Sarah nods sheepishly.

“I could order us something,” you said. “What do you like?”

You aren’t much of a chef, though you can generally figure your way out around any recipe. However, cooking for one is notoriously tedious. If you had multiple mouths to feed, maybe you’d be tempted to hone your skills in the kitchen a little more. Most nights you usually treated yourself to a depressing, hastily thrown together salad, scrambled eggs, or a PB&J. Tonight, you had actually been planning to take yourself out to dinner – there’s a cute little French bistro down the street and you were hoping to treat yourself to a cocktail and a nice meal while you read.

Sarah closes her book, contemplating. “Could we….get a pizza?”

You think about it. “Sure, yeah. Pepperoni…cheese?”

“Can we get….one of both?” she tests.

“Yeah, we can do both,” You smile. “I bet your dad will be hungry, too, he can have some if he wants.”

“Maybe…he likes pineapple on his,” Sarah wrinkles her nose.

“He has good taste. I do too.”

“Gross.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep them separate,” you call over your shoulder as you retreat to the kitchen.

Once the pizza is ordered, you return to your living room and curl up on the opposite side of the couch from Sarah, who is engrossed back in her book. “They told me about 30 minutes. What are you reading?”

“To Kill A Mockingbird,” she says, showing you the cover.

“That was one of my favorites growing up.”

“I have to read it for school…but it’s pretty good so far.”

Your phone pings with another email, and you glance at it quickly.

“Is that work?” she asks.

You nod. “Yeah. It still finds you, even when you leave.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“No way!” Sarah perks up. “Like on the tv shows? That’s so cool.”

You snort, shaking your head. “No, not exactly. I’m a corporate lawyer so it’s not as fun, actually, it’s just a lot of paperwork and meetings…”

“So…you don’t like it, then?”

��It’s….” you think about it. “....Fine.” Did you like your job? It wasn’t really something you thought about in that way, you’d always seen it as a means to an end. “I went to law school because my dad wanted me to…he wanted me to work for him someday. And…that didn’t pan out so…yeah. But you know…it pays well, and….”

“You get to wear cool outfits,” she gestures to you.

“Yeah, I guess I do. Although the heels do get a little uncomfortable.”

Sarah’s eyes shift behind you for a second to the hallway leading to your bedroom, then widen excitedly. “You have a cat?”

You turn around to see what she’s looking at, the white and gray ball of fluff that you’d found underneath a dumpster one late night in college.

“Yeah, that’s Martini.”

“Martini,” she giggles, and the cat approaches her cautiously. He’s notoriously shy and quiet, and not even particularly cuddly, but he likes to sleep at the foot of your bed and will sit next to you on the couch if you stay still for long enough.

The cat sniffs Sarah’s outstretched hand, then presses his face into Sarah’s palm so she can scratch him under his chin, his favorite spot. “He’s not usually a fan of strangers, he must like you.”

“I love animals,” she says. “My dad won’t let me get a pet because he says he’ll end up taking care of it.”

You chuckle. “Cats are pretty easy…at least, he is.”

Martini allows himself about twenty seconds worth of affection before he darts out of the room and heads to his food bowl.

“I’m gonna go change out of my work clothes, I’ll be right back,” you push yourself off the couch and walk down the hallway. Any other night and you probably would’ve been in pajamas awhile ago but that’s probably not acceptable, so you settle for jeans and a sweater, which is much more comfortable than the dress and tights you had been in before.

The pizza arrives and after you tip the driver, set it on your kitchen island and pull some plates out of your cupboard. You and Sarah are both long settled with full plates when you speak again.

“Wow….I forgot how good pizza is…” you say, staring at the half eaten piece in your hand.

“You don’t eat pizza?”

“Usually only when I’m drunk,” you say, then immediately realize you’re talking to an eleven year old. “Oops, I…probably shouldn’t be telling you that.”

She giggles. “It’s okay.”

“So, it’s just you and your dad across the street?” you ask. “Does your mom live with you?”

The second the question registers, you immediately regret asking. Sarah shrinks before you, her face dropping, shaking her head. “No I…I don’t really have a mom.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, softly. You just assumed she existed although you’d never seen her, and you feel guilty, racking your brain for something that might help make her feel better. “I understand, my mom wasn’t really around growing up.”

“She wasn’t?” Sarah asked, looking up.

You shake your head. “My parents got divorced when I was young, my dad took us, and she moved across the country, so….I didn’t see much of her.”

“My mom… she left when I was a baby.”

“I’m sorry.” You say again, staring at the girl in front of you.

For a moment, looking at her, you see yourself, and you wonder how a parent can wake up one day and choose to ignore someone that’s one half of themselves. Someone they made. If they really understood what that might do to a person’s psyche, growing up thinking that they weren’t wanted. You had always told yourself that your mother, your parents must have not understood, because if they did, and they still chose to do it…

“Are you married?” Sarah asks, and you’re snapped out of your train of thought.

Taking a bite of pizza, you shake your head no.

“So you live here alone?”

You nod, chewing.

“Do you like it?”

You nod, swallow. “It’s better than having a roommate, or living in the city.”

Standing up, you walk towards the fridge for a can of sparkling water. It hisses while you open it, and you lean over the counter while Sarah continues to drill you. “Do you ever get….scared? Like at night?”

“No….not really. I have locks. And this is a safe neighborhood. And uh, I may or may not have a nightlight still.”

Sarah giggles. “Me too.”

There’s a sturdy knock on your screen door, which you’d left open to let in the cool spring breeze, and you notice Sarah’s eyes widen. “I bet that’s my dad.”

As if he heard her, and maybe he did, the guest calls out. “It’s Joel!” It’s the same voice from over the phone, but much clearer.

“Come in,” you answer.

The screen door creaks open, the sound of boots shuffling inside. “Sarah?” It’s the same voice from the phone. Joel steps into the warm light of the kitchen.

When you first met it had been from a distance, you were carrying boxes and he was loading something into the back of his truck. It’s clear you hadn’t gotten a good enough look at him, wouldn’t have forgotten his name, because fuck, he’s kind of gorgeous…tan skin, dark wavy hair, and a sharp jawline covered in stubble. In the archway to your kitchen he looks huge, taller than you remembered.

“Hi Dad,” Sarah says. “Miss-“

You cut her off simply by saying your first name. “Nice to meet you…again.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, and thank you so much for keeping an eye on her. We’ll get out of your ha-”

“We got you pizza,” Sarah pipes up, looking at him. You can tell that she’s trying to stall. Or at least, trying to offer him something that might soften the inevitable lecture she’s going to get. It’s a smart play, and definitely not something you would’ve been above trying at her age.

Joel looks at the three pizza boxes spread across your countertop. “You didn’t have to feed her, really, like I said, she should’ve known better,” he turns to look at her pointedly.

“I had to eat anyway. Please, help yourself. There’s a ton of leftovers,” You really did not want cold pizza in your fridge, because it’d be too tempting to eat as a late night snack or even breakfast on your way out the door in the mornings.

Reluctantly, he looks at you before taking a plate. “Thank you,” he turns to his daughter while he opens one of the boxes. “Did you get your homework done?”

Sarah nods. “And I got ahead on my reading for English.”

“That’s good.”

Joel turns back to you, settles in a chair with the plate of food in front of him at the island. You do the same. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to come over and properly introduce myself. Sarah too.”

You shrug. “I’m the new neighbor, that’s probably my responsibility anyways. It’s been kind of hectic settling in.”

“Where’d you move from?”

“Well, I’ve been in Austin for the past few years, but originally I’m from Manhattan.”

Joel nods. “Why Texas?”

It’s far away from my insane family, you think, and then settle on something else. “Work.”

Sarah is staring at her plate and tearing a piece of crust into tiny pieces. Joel eyes the slice of pizza he’s just taken a bite of.

“Pineapple?” he looks over at Sarah. “Are you tryin’ to bribe me so you don’t get in trouble?”

“It’s my favorite, too,” you offer, then wink at Sarah when Joel isn’t looking. She tilts her head down, her hair hiding the grin on her face from her father.

A buzzing sound cuts through the room before Joel can answer, and he digs in his pocket to fish out his cell phone. “Hold on, I gotta take this.”

When he steps out of the room, you begin to clear the empty boxes and plates off your kitchen island and bring them over to the sink. Sarah brings her plate over as well, stands next to you at the sink while you rinse them off and load them in the dishwasher.

“Thank you for dinner,” she says.

“Of course,” you answer.

“I just really hope he’s not disappointed with me.”

Placing your hand between her shoulder blades, you give her an encouraging pat. “I don’t think he is….” you hear Joel on the phone in the other room, his voice rising in volume. “....and honestly….it sounds like he might have bigger fish to fry…”

“Tommy…are you fucking kidding me? Again? How many times is this gonna happen? Okay…fine. fine. I’ll be there soon, but you can’t keep doing this shit.”

Sarah grimaces, and you both turn back to the sink sheepishly when you hear Joel’s footsteps returning. She bumps you with her elbow while you clear your throat.

You’re sure there’s still a residual smile on your face when you turn around to face Joel, who has his hands on his hips. “Alright, Sarah, we gotta get going.”

“Is everything okay with Uncle Tommy?”

“No, I’ve gotta pick him up at the police station.”

“Did he drink too much again?”

“Sarah!” Joel exclaims. “Please, it’s gettin’ late and you’ve got a soccer game tomorrow, you need to get to bed.”

You’re biting your lower lip so hard to keep from laughing you almost taste blood. It’s not funny, definitely not funny to Joel, who you can tell is having a rough night, but it’s objectively funny as an outsider, watching all their familial drama being put on blast by his daughter who doesn’t quite have a filter yet, and is first and foremost trying to protect herself from getting into trouble.

“She’s a lawyer, I bet she could help Tommy,” Sarah looks over at you. “Couldn’t you?”

Joel frowns. “That’s not how that works-”

“What’d they bring him in for?” you ask.

Joel runs a hand through his hair. “Public intoxication. Are you really a lawyer?”

“Well…I’m a corporate lawyer so that wouldn’t really be my specialty. But uh…I’ve definitely been able to talk my friends out of that kind of thing before.”

“But this is not the first time,” Joel says. “It’s probably useless.”

“Didn’t you say you can’t afford to keep-”

“Sarah, enough.” Joel’s voice is as stern as you’ve heard it, and he digs into his pocket, producing a keychain. “Go home and get ready for bed. I’ll be home in a minute.”

Sarah sighs, defeated. “Okay.”

Joel stands dead still while she shuffles to the door, cramming her feet in her shoes with her backpack slung over her shoulder.

By this point in the evening, you’d usually be curled up on your couch by the fireplace with your latest knitting project, moderately stoned, watching bad reality television and sipping sleepytime herbal tea. But your night has already gone drastically different from your expectation. Why stop now? “If you wanted…I could try to help.”

Joel shakes his head, looks at the floor. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You didn’t ask,” you shrug. “I offered.”

He looks up, a soft smile breaks across his face, revealing a row of straight, sparkling teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It’s the first sincere smile you’ve ever seen from him, and your knees feel a little weak at the sight of it. You think you might offer him anything just to see it again. “It’d be a huge favor. But….I’d appreciate it.”

“Alright well…” you look around, push yourself off the countertop. “I probably should change before we go. I don’t think I’ll be taken seriously in this.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I need to make sure Sarah gets to bed alright, how ‘bout you meet me on my porch in ten?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Thanks again,” he raps his knuckles on the counter twice before retreating, and you stay in place until you hear the screen door close behind him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I feel like you’re meeting us all at a very chaotic time….I promise, things aren’t usually like this.”

Joel’s not sure why he feels the need to clarify this to you on the drive to the police station. In fact, he might be saying it more to convince himself, because he thinks ever since Sarah’s mom ran off, things have never not been chaotic.

In some ways, he’s glad it happened. It was a doomed relationship from the start, they’d both been far too young to understand the consequences of their actions, so it was probably for the better that she was no longer around. But he was caught in a constant state of feeling like he could never quite get a handle on things.

Joel glances over at you in the passenger's seat of his truck. He decides that you look a little out of place there, dressed in a black pantsuit, a messenger bag tucked between your heel-clad feet. He can’t remember the last time there was an adult woman in his car. Three months, maybe? It had been a date, a third date, and subsequently, a last date. But right now the context is different.

Your head is tilted towards the open window, the breeze casting stray pieces of your hair around as the radio cuts in and out of an old Eagles song and then to static, and then back into music again. He needs to get his damned stereo fixed but unfortunately it hasn’t exactly been high on his priority list. His gaze travels down the slope of your neck, where your skin dips into the collar of your silky blue blouse, then back to your profile, your lips moving as you mouth the words to the song, but don’t sing.

I get this feelin' I may know you

As a lover and a friend

You stop when his words register, turning to look at him, and he averts his eyes back to the road. “No offense or anything….” you say. “But compared to the family I grew up in….this is all pretty tame.”

Joel ponders that for a moment, notices the way your eyes are narrowed, the corners of your lips quirking. “What, you got a problematic little brother, too? A precocious eleven-year-old?”

“No kids,” you answer. He didn’t think so. “But I do have a problematic older brother. And the stress he’s caused has definitely taken years off my life.”

At least you seem like you understand.

He’s shocked you’re in this car with him, that after entertaining his daughter all night, you’d offered to help him out with this Tommy mess. Though, he assumes you’re doing it out of guilt because Sarah made it sound like he was broke.

“You know for the record, I actually have the money to bail him out.”

“I figured.”

“Then why’d you come?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. My life has been pretty boring lately. I can’t remember the last time I did something exciting on a Friday night.”

“This is exciting to you?”

“It’s objectively exciting,” you sound assured. “Maybe more exciting than being the person who got arrested for public intoxication.”

Despite the stress of the evening, he can’t help but laugh.

“And whether you’re broke or not, bailing someone out of jail is no joke. If you can at least try to talk your way out of it, you might as well.”

Joel can’t argue with your logic.

“What is it you do again?” you ask, eyeing the protective glasses he has in the cup holder of his front seat. There are nails stuck between the rubber grooves of the mat beneath the seats, a pair of thick gloves resting on the dashboard.

“I’m a carpenter.”

“Makes sense,” you answer. “So you’re handy?”

“You could say that,” Joel lifts the can of flat, warm seltzer from his lunch break to his mouth, just to take a sip.

“That’s hot,” you say, and he nearly chokes when he hears it. Are you….flirting? Though, you can’t be, because when he looks over at you, you’re staring at the road, face neutral.

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know, I don’t make the rules of what’s hot and what isn’t….it’s just a fact. Everyone knows that.”

“Do they?”

“Uh-huh,” you respond. “I mean, I wish I was handy. I’m pretty much a lost cause in that department.”

“If it paid the bills, you’d figure it out.”

“If it paid the bills, I can tell you, I would not be living in our neighborhood.”

Joel puts his blinker on, preparing to pull into the police station. “You probably still could, it’s not that nice of a neighborhood.”

“Shut up,” you snort, rolling your eyes. “But in all seriousness, it is peaceful. It’s quiet.”

“See, but you still didn’t say nice.”

“It is nice. I like it.”

When he parks the car, you straighten up, unbuckling the seatbelt and exiting without a word. On the opposite side of the truck, he observes how you rebutton the front of your blazer, smooth down its lapels and shift your shoulders back before turning to him.

“You ready?” you ask.

He nods.

“After you.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Joel spots you again, Tommy is walking a few paces behind you. You turn your head over one shoulder, smirking at whatever he’s saying. From where Joel is sitting in the lobby, he can just make out the soft curve of your hips, the tops of your thighs over the barrier that separates him from all the desks of the officers and staff at the station. You’ve got an easy, relaxed gait and you give Joel a wink when he catches you staring.

He can tell it’s just meant to be celebratory thing, since both you and Tommy seem to be in good spirits, but he likes the sight of it anyways, the idea that you’re both in on some secret that no one else is.

Joel stands to greet you and his brother to get the download, but as he approaches, your group is intercepted by one of the cops that had been hanging around reception.

“Miller,” he says lowly to Tommy. “This better be the last time I see you in here.”

When Tommy doesn’t answer right away, you pipe up.

“I assure you my client will be on his best behavior.”

The cop turns to you for a minute, turns back to Tommy, contemplating. “You’re lucky you have a good lawyer…” he says. “Although I’m still not convinced you’re really paying someone to get you out of a public intoxication charge.”

“I-” Tommy opens his mouth but you cut him off.

“Alleged…intoxication,” you interject, stone-faced.

“He can hardly walk straight.”

You purse your lips. “But….you never did a sobriety test, so, would it hold up in court?” you grimace. “If I had to guess….probably not.”

The cop narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t push it, princess.”

Despite the infantilizing nickname, You respond with a polite smile. “Thanks again, officer. Have a nice evening.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs before backing away.

You turn to Joel, your smile fading, and Tommy cuts in. “We should get the fuck out of here before he changes his mind.”

“That’s it? You’re free?” Joel asks.

Tommy nods.

“Tommy’s right, we should definitely leave.”

It’s a mad scramble, the three of you settling back into Joel’s truck, and if he was feeling a little less angsty about the way the whole evening had gone, he might’ve even peeled out of the parking lot for dramatic effect. But at this point, his patience is wearing thin.

He’s back on the main drag, en route to Tommy’s place, with you on the passenger’s side, and his brother in the back, leaning forward with his elbows resting on your seats when his brother speaks up.

“Holy….shit!” Tommy turns to you. “That was fucking awesome, are you kidding me? Joel, where the fuck did you find her?”

He’s still drunk, words slurring together, and he shakes both of your shoulders ferociously. You actually giggle — the sound of it is fucking adorable and Joel wishes that these are not the circumstances for hearing such a noise. He rather it be because of something he said, but he knows Tommy has always been more charming, even when drunk

“She’s my neighbor, Tommy.”

“No way! How come I’ve never seen you around before?” Tommy asks, and Joel can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“I’m kind of new to the area,” you answer.

“Dammit, oh my god, Joel, I wish you coulda seen it.”

Joel looks over at you, and is thankful that he catches your eye. “What’d you say?”

“Never underestimate your negotiating power when the cop you’re talking to’s shift ended over an hour ago, and he doesn’t want to fill out any more paperwork.” You cross your arms, look over your shoulder at Tommy, who is leaning back against the seat with his head in his hands, laughing, before looking back at Joel. “I told you, I have experience.”

“Oh my god,” Tommy pokes his head back between you. “How’d he even get you to come down here? What’d he have to do, offer to paint your house or somethin’?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Sarah got locked out again,” Joel explained. “And I was over at her place when you called. She’s a corporate lawyer.”

“Ah, that makes sense. You know, Joel’s always liked the smart ones,” Tommy starts, and Joel has to contain the urge to slam on the brakes and send his brother face first into the back of his headrest. Unfortunately, he can’t do that with you in the car. “Too bad he’s dumb as a box of rocks.”

“Okay, watch yourself!” Joel snaps, and he’s only halfway kidding. “You got off easy, but you’re on fuckin’ thin ice, and I’m still pissed that I’m spending my night bailing you out again.”

Tommy doesn’t even catch on to Joel’s irritation – or maybe he does, and has just decided that he’s going to be the Annoying Younger Sibling and see how far he can push it. “Don’t let him fool you, okay?” Tommy continues, and you’ve angled yourself towards him, amused. “It’s not always him lookin’ after me. Before he had Sarah, he was crazy.”

“Alright, alright that’s enough, Tommy.” Joel shoots daggers towards his brother in the rearview mirror, and he watches Tommy’s smile falter, finally deciding to back down.

“Is that true, Joel, were you really crazy?” you ask after Tommy grows quiet, tilting your head. “I can’t see it.”

“Well we’ve all have our moments, right?” he says sheepishly.

“We do,” you agree, and then it’s finally silent.

Joel is thankful to see Tommy’s driveway straight in front of him, and his car lurches up the curb. “Alright, alright, this is your last stop,” he says to his brother. “You’ll get in okay?”

Tommy takes a deep breath, settling himself after all his bravado and sinking back against his seat. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at Sarah’s game.” He slinks out of the truck and slams the door behind him.

Normally, Joel would’ve chewed him out after something like this, but he knows being hungover tomorrow at a middle school soccer game, sandwiched between screaming parents and the ear-splitting whistles of the referees will be punishment enough.

“I’ll see you then.” He watches his brother stumble up the steps to his home, unlock the door, and give a wave before disappearing inside.

Joel’s left alone with you. “Should we get you home, now?”

“Yeah, we should.”

Joel puts the car in reverse, puts one of his arms over the back of the bench seat to look for cars behind him, and catches you staring. You don’t even seem embarrassed that he notices, either, you just shift your gaze away to outside the window.

He feels a little self-conscious about the first impression he’s probably made, which is a feeling he’s not used to…caring about what people think.

“Sorry about him, he’s….a good guy but a real piece of work.”

You giggle. “Like I said, I have a brother, too.”

It’s been awhile since he’s interacted with anyone outside of Sarah, Tommy, and his coworkers, and his day was exhausting. He wants to ask more questions, see if he can hold some kind of conversation, but words fail him, so you spend the short drive on the way back home mostly in silence. You’re so quiet that by the time he pulls into your driveway, he thinks you might be asleep. If you were, he doesn’t even get the chance to wake you, because you immediately sit up straight once the truck has come to a halt.

“Thanks for everything tonight,” he says.

“You’re welcome, it was no problem,” you get out of the car, sling your bag over your shoulders, and close the door. “Have a good night.”

Joel’s listening to the retreating click of your heels up the driveway when he rolls down his window all the way to speak again. It’s clear you’re tired, your shoulders are slouched, and he feels incredibly guilty. You worked all day and then had to put up with his entire crazy family.

“Hey,” he says. “How much do I owe you for the pizza?”

You turn around, still stepping backwards. “Nothing.”

“Look, you’ve done too much for me tonight to say that,” he says. “I’m startin’ to feel bad.”

You stop in your tracks then, the smirk on your face fading a little bit as you slowly step forward to where he leans out the truck window. It’s only a few feet, but you’re much closer now than you’ve been to him all night, and there must be jasmine in your perfume. It smells expensive, he thinks, as your hands lift to rest on the door next to his elbow. “You shouldn’t feel bad,” you say softly, voice low.

God, you’re fucking beautiful, he realizes, basked in the glow of the moon, a smile creeping along the edges of your lips. Of course, he knew you were attractive, had definitely registered it at some point before – maybe when he’d walked in on you and Sarah giggling in the kitchen. He was just too busy being worried to even notice until now.

This isn’t a date, but you’re so close he could kiss you, kind of wants to just to see what would happen, but he doesn’t. You’re his new neighbor, and if he’s reading this wrong, he doesn’t want to be reminded of the mistake everyday, first thing in the morning when you’re picking up your newspaper at the end of your driveway and he’s leaving for work.

“But uh…if it would make you feel better…one of the steps on my front porch is rotted. Maybe you could come over sometime and fix it? That a fair trade?”

Joel nods, and you stick out your hand. “It’s a deal,” he says, ignoring the jolt of energy he feels when your palms press together, like you’re a kid wearing a hand buzzer, trying to shock him.

“Great,” you step away. He’s about to put the car in reverse when you speak again.

“Oh, and Joel?” you ask, he looks back at you. Before you speak again, your eyes shift to the ground, like you’re mustering up the courage to ask him something, and when they return to his again, your expression is somber. “Go easy on Sarah….she’s a good kid.”

Joel nods, understanding.

“I know.”

volume ii

taglist: @yaskna @venomous-ko @lomljigg

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller series #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #tlou hbo #tlou fanfic #tlou series #texas sun

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yridenergyridenergy · 5 months

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The wholesome-ish friendship between Shinya and Kyo

Their latest playful Q&A in Haiiro no Ginka vol. 100 has prompted me to compile examples of this weird but overall wholesome relationship that Kyo and Shinya have and which is not obvious at first.

Situation #1

In October 2017, Kyo gifted Shinya with a custom white version of a MadaraNingen one-piece. As far as I remember, that article of clothing was not available for purchase in white at all, to the public. And of course, we all know that Shinya prefers to wear white.

Situation #2

I think that in response to Shinya sharing a video of him briefly playing with the minicars that were sold as tour goods in This Way to Self-Destruction, Kyo posted a story on Instagram of him revving up a bunch of mini-cars and persistently making them hit his phone propped up on a counter and displaying a picture of Shinya. At age 43. To which Shinya made an Instagram post vaguely hinting that: "Good children should not play with the mini-cars to hit someone's picture!"

Kyo's Instagram Story "The proper way to use mini-cars" video

Shinya's translated response

Situation #3

In late 2022-early 2023, Shinya publicly celebrated his bandmates' birthdays via emojis on Twitter, and Kyo was the only one to respond, in kind.

Situation #4

Kyo posted a cryptic picture of Shinya's video meeting with Mana in an Instagram Story and he has mentioned on Twitter at least once that he was watching Shinya Channel (the making of the FaFa onigiri).

In the same vein, Shinya took his failed attempt at needle-felting a pink bunny in March 2022 and turned it into a miniature hammer-wielding bunny in October 2022, in response to sukekiyo unveiling their Mosaic Shoujo PV which featured Kyo in the killer bunny suit.

Situation #5

This very old video of Kyo teasing Shinya by pinching the side of his dress, Shinya reacting by pushing Kyo a bit and Kyo falling into a robot dance in response.

Situation #6

The coffee maker. In one of the live talks held during the COVID-19 pandemic at concert venues, Shinya mentioned having a coffee maker which was of no use to him, and Kyo expressed interest in taking it from him. Later, in the Galacaa livestream talk between the two, it was revealed that Shinya had promised to give Kyo his coffee maker, but he never pulled through on that offer. Kyo, sporting a doodled face to hide his own, insistently questioned Shinya on this unreliability when the topic was brought up by fans in the comments. Shinya kind of struggled but ended up explaning that the coffee maker was really useless because of a defect, that it would not have been an appropriate gift anymore. But he forgot to update Kyo about it after he tried to contact the manufacturer. Kyo replied like: "Oh, alright then."

At some point, Kyo took the matter to Twitter, confronting Shinya about it with their respective member photos to illustrate the dialogue, and Shinya replied the same way.

Situation #7

In that same livestream, Shinya is so used to Kyo's bullshit by now that he completely ignores Kyo's doodle face sheet and casually leans forward to look past him and at the interviewer, sat on Kyo's right. After a while of this, the interviewer points out to Shinya that Kyo is insistently staring at him with this disturbing face, which is when Shinya becomes startled and nervously laughs upon realizing that, also making Kyo chuckle.

Situation #8

More often than others, Shinya and Kyo are documented chatting on the chairs backstage while they wait for everyone to be ready to start the show. Maybe there's something to be said of how they are the two members of the band to leave the stage the quickest, while Kaoru, Toshiya and Die stay for a while to throw picks.

Situation #9

Miscellaneous pictures of the two:

Situation #10

Apparently it was Shinya's earbuds that Kyo used to play with the cat (also Shinya's?) in this famous old video.

youtube

Situation #11

Other interactions on Twitter include commentary regarding the song battles that fans were voting on via that same website, during live broadcasts from their manager Fujieda on Galacaa. Kyo and Shinya were the only two members reacting to the songs that were pulled out of the box, Kyo sometimes replying to Shinya's own tweets wondering what he meant or outright questioning his preference.

Another interaction consisted in Kyo copying Shinya's tweets regarding the release of their Phalaris album and twisting Shinya's cute comments into hellish versions.

Situation #12

Probably a bunch of elusive comments throughout the years, but here's an example of something that Shinya said about Kyo in a magazine interview.

Situation #13

In Haiiro no Ginka vol. 100, the members were asked to send each other member five questions. Some chose to personalize them based on what they actually wanted to ask of the others, while a couple decided to send the same questions to all, but members were not told who the questions came from. Kyo picked up on that anonymous part of the game and when answering Shinya's set of questions, he ended each of his short answers with a second sentence that can either just be the Kansai dialect for: "Aren't you Shinya!", or in other dialects, translates more to: "Shinya, you bastard!" hahah. From what I saw, nobody else hinted at who they thought the questions came from in their answers. In reverse, Kyo took up two of his five alloted questions for Shinya with the simple statement: "You don't know you're dead yet!", a quote from Fist of the North Star which is highly intimidating as it hints that someone has defeated the character so easily and lightning-fast that they are a dead man standing, their body having trouble catching up with the reality that they were slaughtered. Shinya, in response to that repeated tease, stubbornly replies in his polite and formal Japanese that: "No, I'm not dead." Their Q&A with the other members were not nearly that quirky.

... Did I miss any? And there will undoubtedly be more to come!

Thank you very much to shinyaburashka for your help!

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blacktacmopsi · 1 month

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Keegan HeadCanons: NSFW Edition Vol. 2

As I said in volume 1, Keegan likes his porn. If you get really intimate with him and he feels comfortable with you, he might suggest you both watch something together. He'll definitely start jacking off next to you and would like you to give yourself some self love too. He'll ask if he can do it in front of you first though.

He's not big on toys. No fleshlights or any of that stuff. He's a man that does it the old fashioned way- with his bare hands. In his nightstand, he keeps a cum rag that he washes frequently.

But toys on you? He's cool with. He'll definitely lie beside you, fucking your sweet pussy with your favorite dildo while telling you some of the most dirtiest things you've ever heard. "Does that feel good, sweetheart?" "Are you liking how I make your pussy feel, darling?" "I need to get you stretched for when you take my own cock. It will feel way better than this."

Caress his pecs. He loves it.

Keegan has a great dick. He's not scary big (like how we all picture König...poor bby, btw) but he's got some thickness and length so think on the upper end of average. He's cut with a nice pale pink head. Dude has some nice and tight balls too. It doesn't take much to get him leaking precum... and boy does he leak! More of a grower than a shower.

Pubic hair! As mentioned in volume 1, he bounces between manscaping and rocking his natural state. He's never fully bare down there but if he's manscaping, he's trimming the bush back. Nonetheless, there will always be hair down there so get used to it.

Sometimes he doesn't last long in bed and this embarrasses him. This usually happens when he's been away on a long mission and touch starved. If he's getting it on the regular, his stamina is great. He does have a bit of a refractory period though but once it's over, he can go for a round two...or just sleep. It depends.

During that refractory period, expect him to want to just hold you close without saying anything. He just wants to live in the moment and enjoy the silence.

Sizable producer. Keegan's cum skews on the bitter side (because he's a coffee drinker) and is a milky white. But the texture! It will cling to your teeth, tongue, throat...you'll definitely need to wash it down and clear your throat a few times.

If you're having emotional sex with him (which he prefers) he'll bury his head either into the crook of your neck or between your breasts. As he does this, he'll mutter how much he loves you and how good you make him feel. "I want to give you every last drop of me. That's my love for you." He will also hug you while he penetrates you slowly. He'll rub you, taste you, and kiss you all with care.

If you're fucking, Keegan breaks out the dirty talk...and he's going to make sure you absolutely hear it. He doesn't shy away. "Look at you, takin' my whole cock, damn!" "Oh sweetheart, I've thought about taking this pussy of yours for a while now." "You'd look really pretty with my cum in you...and I might add more later."

Not necessarily vanilla but not kinky either. He doesn't really have any fetishes or kinks but will entertain it if you bring something to the bedroom. He just likes sex with the right person.

He does own some porn mags (what a classy guy lol). They're in a box under his bed. They're from his USMC days.

Absolutely doesn't mind kissing you after you swallow. He's not grossed out.

#call of duty #call of duty ghosts #cod keegan #cod ghosts #keegan p russ #keegan cod #keegan cod ghosts #keegan smut #BlackTacMopsi Writes Garbage #call of duty keegan #keegan russ #keegan russ smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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The Detour 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor

Summary: You find yourself stranded in a small village.

Part of the Backwoods AU

Note: So this is an idea I had for a while but I just know I wouldn't get to do it full length for chapters but I hope it's fun.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You watch the green landscape pass outside the window. The tow truck rattles, almost to a concerning degree, as it chuffs down the winding country road. The driver, a man who calls himself Vol, sings along loudly to the radio as you make yourself small in the passenger seat.

This isn’t how you saw your road trip going. You don’t understand why something always has to go wrong. Even with your utmost efforts, there’s always some hitch.

You go over it all in your head. An oil change, standard check-up, some adjustments. All that on a nearly new model and you still ended up stranded. A flat tire but you don’t have a spare. The man promises one back at his shop.

Whatever it costs, you don’t care. You’re annoyed at the time spent on this ridiculous mishap. It does seem to occur often that each time you attempt to do something for yourself, that there must be some disaster. It’s why you haven’t tried anything of the sort in years.

You look in the mirror and see the edge of your car strapped to the bed of the truck. You should’ve done the train. The view along the cross country rail is allegedly quite resplendent but you didn’t like the idea of having to abide by a schedule not your own. Once again, your stubbornness nips you in the rear.

The man slaps the steering wheel along to the beat of the music. You don’t mind the song, it’s considered a classic of the genre, but does it need to be so loud? You cross your arms and huff, the noise of your displeasure drowned out by the crackling speakers.

Country houses stand on hills and fields sprawl with freshly sowed fields. You try to imagine a life here, away from the bustling furor of the city. That thought makes your chest want to collapse. You couldn’t do it. You are urban to the core.

As you come to the heart of the village, the houses are placed closer but not clustered. Only along the sparse row of their ‘downtown’ do buildings dare to touch. It’s after five and the shops are all closed for the day.

“Garage is just behind Mary’s place,” the man turns down the radio, “we’ll get a better look at the damage.” He assures you, peeking at you in the rear view, “these old country roads aren’t meant for speeding.”

“I wasn’t…” you cut yourself off. You won’t argue. You just want a new tire, “right, thank you.”

He chuckles, nonplussed by your curtness. He steers around another long bend in the road. Why must everything be so tedious and slow? He shuttles up to a bright red structure that resembles a barn. Across the moniker, hand painted nonetheless, is the name Volstagg’s. He flips the stick to park and kills the engine.

“Here,” he proclaims, pausing as his eyes pinpoint through the windshield, “ah, of course.”

He clicks his seat belt and lets it repel. He swings open the door so violently it shakes the entire vehicle. You furrow your brow as he hops down and hollers. What on earth is he doing?

“...working. What d’you want?” Is all you catch through his chortling grit.

“Good to see you too, friend,” another voice counters, even deeper and smooth like silk. Great, another of the village folk.

You undo your seat belt and check your reflection in the side mirror. You open the door and plant your heel on the little metal step below the door. You let yourself down but stumble at the still jarring height of the truck cabin. You cling to the door as you gain your balance.

You shut it with a creak and a clang. Your soles mulch in the dusty gravel as you follow the voices. You clear your throat, facing the men chattering on the other side of the truck. You bring your hands to your hips in a show of your irritation.

“Hullo,” you sneer, “my tire, sir.”

The bearded redhead, Vol, and his companion, a blond even taller and blonder, look over at you with curious expressions. Their faces tint from surprised to amused. You want to roll your eyes. Your stature rarely affords you dignity.

“Yes, ma’am,” the redhead shows his large palm apologetically, “forgive me,” he faces the other man, “as you see, I have work to do.”

“So I see,” the other man drawls, his gaze stuck on you, “you are visiting Hammer Ford?”

You curl your lip, “never. Passing through,” you turn and stride away, towards the front of the building as Vol gets back in his truck.

The blond jogs in front of the high bumper, waving at the driver, as he crosses over to you. You keep your back to him as you strut up the edge of the dirt lot. You try to ignore him as you watch the mechanic angle around to bring your car along the front of the garage, steering the bed towards the doors.

“Passing through. On your way to…?”

“None of your concern,” you sniff, “I only need a new tire and I’ll be gone.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. This is a lovely village. Quaint. You might like it here,” he muses, “a woman like yourself, you might find it novel.”

“A woman like me?” You challenge, facing him at last, well, facing his torso. You look up, “how am I like, sir?”

“Well, from the city presumably,” he tosses back as if mocking your tone, “city folk tend to endear themselves to the quiet here.”

“Mmm,” you accept with a purse of your lips, “I’ll be off as soon as my tire is fixed. I have more important places to be.”

“Fair,” he shrugs, “you do seem rather… important.” He emphasizes the last word, echoing your own statement. You squint and turn away again. You’ll be gone soon enough.

“Vol,” he spins with a holler, bounding off to bother the other man as he works at placing the loading ramps against the truck bed, “before I go…”

His voice trails off as he claps the other man’s shoulder, his volume dropping notably. You slowly drag your heels towards them, receiving another glimpse from the blond’s sea blue eyes. He smirks before he releases his comrade from his bearlike grasp.

“Good day, lady,” he bows his head in exaggerated gallantry, “not to worry, Volstagg always takes special care of the pretty ones.”

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #au #backwoods au #series #drabble #the detour #mcu #marvel #avengers #volstagg

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notfreetoday · 7 months

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MPW Timeline

So, in the most recent behind the scenes video (vol. 11), Atsuki mentioned that Segasaki and Yoh's meeting takes place 5 years ago. I've been trying to figure out the timeline of everything and think I've got it (deductive reasoning under the cut)

We know from the show itself, the BTS and the manga artist:

5 years ago: First meeting

3 years ago: Proposal

Just over a year ago: Yoh pulled Man-san into the Segasaki Fandom

4 months ago: Started living together (around Mar/Apr)

We also know from the weather reports/contextual information that:

Proposal was on a day where "it was unusually hot for the season" - Either Spring or Autumn

Ep 1 ends/Ep 2 starts with the start of the rainy season - ~ May/June

Ep 3 - Rainy season is ending - ~End of July/Start of August

Ep 4 - 6 - Summer ~July/August

Ep 7 - Very hot weather, with a Typhoon - Summer Typhoon ~August

When was the Proposal?

To become a meteorologist in Japan, the usual route is to study related subjects at university (4 years), and then take the national licensing exam (which has a pass rate of about 4-5% btw). This exam can be taken whilst in university too.

We know that during Segasaki's proposal, he was pretty confident about getting a high pay, so it's likely he already had a job offer by then. The academic year in Japan starts in April, and the average Japanese university student will began preparing to enter the job search (yes this is An Annual Event, like the great migration 😅) around June of their 3rd year. After internship, interviews etc, job confirmations and contract signings will usually come around Sep/Oct of their 4th year. So, my guess is that Segasaki completed the licensing exam sometime before he started his job search, probably did pretty well during his internship and interviews, and so was pretty confident that he'd get signed even before he received any confirmation. This puts his proposal to around the end of his 3rd year to before Oct of his 4th year. Given that the day of the proposal was unusually hot, we're probably looking at Spring, aka Mar/April/May, which fits with the end of his 3rd year/early 4th year.

When did they first meet?

So, if they met 5 years from "now", then that would be 2 years before the proposal, putting Segasaki at the end of his 1st year/early 2nd year. Given that Segasaki is Yoh's senior in university, and the clothes they're wearing, I'm guessing this is sometime in April, ie the start of the new academic year. Thus, Segasaki has just started Year 2, and Yoh has just started Year 1.

When did they start living together?

Since they are 1 year apart in terms of school years, then it is likely that Yoh graduated 1 year after the proposal, which leaves us with an additional 1 year after his graduation where he was likely living alone/wherever he was during school, before he moved in with Segasaki. This was the time he introduced Man-san to Everyday Weather (the shot of him is so tight you can't really tell if he is in Segasaki's house or not, but if my math is math-ing right, then he probably isn't).

#my personal weatherman #体感予報 #taikan yohou #segasaki x yoh #this is my best guess #what happened during that 1 year after Yoh graduated!!#Let's have a S2 showing all of that!!#Did Yoh try to find a job and then decide to take Segasaki up on the offer?#or did Segasaki want to wait till he was a little more secured in his position?#I feel like both are plausible #but Yoh also said they didn't date before this so #what were they doing!

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the-lonelybarricade · 8 months

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Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans - Chapter 1

Summary: Fresh after her third, and final, breakup with Tamlin, Feyre decides a one night stand is exactly what she needs to get him out of her system. Except, her one night stand with a violet-eyed stranger ends up being far more than she bargained for.

Or; the one where Feysand gets knocked up from a one night stand. A contribution to @officialfeysandweek2023 Day 3: Family.

🌶️🌶️🌶️ ahead!

Read on AO3 ・Masterlist

Maybe, in hindsight, the third tequila shot had been a mistake.

The first one, though, had been strategic. Feyre had come to Rita’s that night with a purpose, and that purpose had rattled her to the bone. Her hands were shaking when she sat at the bar, and she frowned at her phone screen, watching the words as she struggled to keep her grip steady.

If she was going to do this, she needed a drink. An ounce of liquid courage that burned down her throat, bloomed in her chest and spread to her fingertips, loosening her body. It didn’t ease the tremble in her hands, but that had more to do with the small green text bubble that she’d been staring at since she got here.

Got stuck in traffic. I should be there in five x

Feyre set the phone on the bar so that she could run her palms over the black bodycon she’d squeezed herself into, hoping to erase the evidence of the sweat gathering in her palms. She was nervous. Of course she was nervous. She hadn’t done anything like this in… years.

It was Alis’s fault, really. Several nights ago, she’d discovered Feyre hunched over on the bathroom floor, sobbing into her hand as she sorted through nearly a thousand couples photos on her phone—again. It was the third time Feyre and Tamlin had broken up, which marked it the third time Feyre was erasing any evidence of him off her phone. The final time, she swore, well aware that the photos still sat in a hidden folder on her phone since she hadn’t summoned the courage to delete them permanently.

“Maybe you should go out,” Alis had suggested. “Meet someone new. Do something fun and impermanent.”

“Impermanent?” She’d blinked past her tears to force Alis’s frown into focus. “Do you mean like… a one night stand?”

Alis had shrugged. “I think it’d be good for you.”

Feyre had sat on that suggestion for a week, torturing herself with all of the usual post break-up rituals. Unfollowing him on instagram, archiving all the couples photos on her profile, stalking everyone in Tamin’s likes. And when Tamlin had posted a series of pictures of a barbeque from the weekend prior and Feyre had swiped to see her ex-boyfriend with his arm slung proudly around Amarantha’s waist—the girl he’d sworn she didn’t have to worry about—Feyre decided that maybe Alis was right. Maybe she did need to do something to help her move on from Tamlin permanently. She needed to find someone who could help her have fun, purge him out of her system for good.

In a surge of courage that Feyre now partially regretted, she had sent a text to her old college roommate.

I want to get drunk and slutty this weekend. You down?

Drunk and slutty? Feyre, did someone steal your phone? Kidding! You know ‘drunk and slutty’ is my legal name, of course I’m down! For real though, is everything okay?

Tamlin and I broke up.

Well, fuck him! Let’s go to Rita’s and have the drunkest, sluttiest time at his expense.

It had been years since Feyre had been to Rita’s. Mor and Feyre used to go to the nightclub semi-regularly when they had been living together in college, but Tamlin wasn’t very interested in nightlife and Feyre had stopped going shortly after they’d started dating. She’d stopped doing a lot of things, actually.

But she wouldn’t think about that now. She was here to forget Tamlin. She was here to get drunk and throw herself into the crowd of writhing bodies, losing herself in the music that he would have undoubtedly complained about.

She had forgotten how loud it was in Rita’s. Music thumped through the overhead speakers, set to such a high volume that Feyre could feel the bassline vibrating in her chest, elevating her already racing pulse.

“Feyre!”

A bright-eyed woman came racing up to Feyre, her long blonde hair swishing behind, falling just above the scoop of her backless red dress.

“It has been too long,” Mor declared, not waiting for Feyre to stand from the bar stool before she barrelled into her side. It helped that Mor was tall, especially in heels.

“It’s good to see you,” Feyre said—surprised by how much she meant it. “You look incredible, by the way.”

Mor’s red lips stretched into a smile as she ran her eyes over Feyre. She gave a low whistle. “Look who’s talking. You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to get drunk and slutty. What are we having?”

“Tequila,” Feyre answered, fingers pinched around her empty shot glass.

“Really?” Mor scanned the crowd, lips pursed. “I was thinking I’d like a brunette.” She turned back to Feyre with a roguish smile and winked. “Tequila will do for now, though.”

If they were going to be dancing, Feyre was definitely going to be needing another shot. Usually by the time they’d made it out to Rita’s in college, they had already spent the evening nursing their low-budget alcohol that had tasted more like motor oil than whatever label had been slapped over it. Dancing hadn’t been an issue then, but that was a time when Feyre had felt freer.

At least now, she could afford a drink at the bar.

Or two.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Mor said, leaning against the bar after ordering a round of shots from the bartender. “I invited my cousin to join us.”

Feyre had a vague memory of the stories Mor used to tell about her cousin—one of her closest and only family members. It was good that Mor had invited someone else. Feyre had every intention of going home with someone tonight, and it was a relief to think she wouldn’t be abandoning Mor in doing so.

“The more the merrier.”

Mor grinned. There was a mischievous glint in her eye as she accepted the shot glasses from the bartender and passed one to Feyre. “To slutty new beginnings,” she said, raising the shot glass in the air.

With a short laugh, Feyre clinked her small glass against Mor’s, and together they knocked back their heads to down the numbing liquid. It didn’t take long after the heat hit the back of Feyre’s throat for Mor to grab her by the wrist and drag them both into the center of the dance floor.

The transition was difficult for Feyre at first. Her body was too stiff and there were too many people. It was difficult to keep from brushing shoulders with the other dancers while she tried—and failed—to copy Mor’s graceful movements while also keeping time with the upbeat music. Eventually, Mor laughed and grabbed Feyre’s hand.

“You’re thinking too much!” she called over the loud ambiance. Raising Feyre’s hand over her head, Mor twirled her in place, then tugged Feyre’s back to the front of her body. Mor’s hands fell to Feyre’s hips, flush against Mor’s as they swayed back and forth.

“Don’t look at what I’m doing,” she whispered into Feyre’s ear. There was a sensual scrape to her voice that caused Feyre to suppress a shiver. “Close your eyes and listen to the music. Move your hips against mine—does that feel good?”

“Mor!” Feyre whispered with a sharp laugh. Heat was rising to her cheeks, but she obediently shut her eyes and focused on the music. “Are you trying to teach me how to dance, or seduce me?”

Mor hummed impishly. “Can I not do both? I thought we were embracing our sluttiness tonight.”

“I’m going to end up wanting to go home with you,” Feyre said, only half teasing. She leaned back into Mor and raised her hands into the air, allowing her friend to guide their rhythm. “Everyone else is going to pale in comparison.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Mor’s voice was pointed enough that Feyre’s eyes fluttered open. A pair of striking eyes met hers, shining violet against the red lighting of the dance floor.

“Oh my—”

“Good luck,” Mor purred into her ear, before giving Feyre a soft push towards the purple-eyed man cutting towards them.

His lips were twisted into a devious smile, one that was eerily reminiscent of the friend who was rapidly disappearing into the crowd, gone before Feyre could scramble after her. Dancing couples closed into the space she left, pushing Feyre closer to the dark haired stranger.

“Hi,” she whispered, hoping he would blame her breathlessness on the dancing. “I’m Feyre.”

“Hi Feyre,” he said, flashing her a cat-like grin. “Care to dance?”

Feyre hadn’t even realized she had stopped. “Of course,” she said, though the music had become a distant white noise.

Embrace your sluttiness, Feyre chided herself, thinking of the way she and Mor had just been grinding against each other. With a slow, steadying breath, Feyre stepped closer to him. He was so tall that she could just barely wind her arms around his neck, and she was suddenly grateful she’d opted to wear heels despite how her feet were already aching.

His hands fell to her hips, warm and broad and far too respectful, considering she’d just pressed the entire front of her body against his.

“What’s your name?” She tried to mimic the way Mor had spoken to her just a moment ago—low and husky, sensual like the fragrant smoke blowing over the hard-tiled floor.

“Rhysand,” he said. “But my friends call me Rhys.”

“Rhys,” Feyre echoed, letting her tongue linger on the word, the same way she wanted to let it linger over the brown, tattooed skin she saw peeking through his black collared shirt. Why did that name sound familiar? She dropped one hand to his elbow, pushing it forward so that his hand slid around the curve of her hip and landed firmly on her ass.

“And what do your lovers call you, Rhys?”

“That depends,” he murmured. Those decadent eyes darkened, dropping to her mouth. “What would you like to call me?”

Daddy? She thought, feeling her entire body heat at the suggestion. That was clearly the tequila talking. Ordinarily, she would never dream of saying something like that out loud and now the word hung dangerously on her tongue.

She nearly said it. But she wasn’t that drunk yet.

Instead, Feyre took a solid moment to compose herself. Rhysand was staring at her expectantly, hardly dancing despite how their hips were flush and his palm pressed into her ass. She liked that he was patient, waiting to follow her lead, taking only what he was being freely given. More green flags than she was expecting from a stranger she’d picked up at a club.

With a face and body like his, she thought surely he must possess some significant shortcoming. At the very least, she expected he had to be a massive prick. But that didn’t matter. Because she wasn’t looking to marry him, or even have a conversation with him. He could be a self-absorbed asshole for all she cared, because after tonight she was never going to see him again. Which meant she could be bolder, say whatever she whatever—be whoever she wanted.

Feyre leaned up, curling her finger around his biceps to steady herself so that she could press her lips to his ear. “Tonight, Rhysand, I want to call you mine.”

He had to shout over the music to be heard. “Yours?”

“Yes,” she crooned, starting to feel the alcohol loosen her body, urging her to be brave, to be reckless. “Tonight, you’re only allowed to dance with me.”

The scent of his cologne tangled in the air, dark and heady like a raging ocean storm. There was no greater freedom that Feyre could imagine than throwing her arms open to the embrace of whipping wind, feeling the sea-spray in her hair and letting the riptide carry her to the vast horizon. At least for tonight, she wanted to drown in him and emerge someone new. Someone carefree and wild who couldn’t remember Tamlin’s name or why her heart was fractured.

Tonight, Rhys was hers. And she was his.

“Are you the jealous type, Feyre?”

From the way he posed the question, Feyre had the sense he found that appealing.

“I don’t like seeing people touch my belongings,” she said, playing into her new role. A seductress—an entirely different woman from the dull, caged-in Feyre who had walked through the door under an hour ago. “Unless that doesn’t apply to you?”

“Oh, Feyre darling,” Rhysand pulled away so that she could see the full extent of his grin. “I was yours from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

They’d hardly stumbled through the front door when Feyre’s back hit the wall. Her dress was already hiked up her hips. The hem had first slipped up when she’d wrapped her legs around Rhysand’s waist as they were coming up the stairs, and the hand he’d edged along her inner thigh certainly hadn’t done anything to help.

The fabric had been ungodly short already. Or at least, that’s what Rhysand had complained to her throughout the last several hours she’d spent grinding her barely clothed ass against him.

He said it one more time for good measure, gasping it against her lips—”This dress is going to kill me.”

“Then take it off.”

“Believe me, I have every intention of seeing you undressed,” he said. His eyes dipped to the cleavage spilling out to tops of the v-shaped neckline. He groaned, ducking his head to leave a trail of nipping kisses along the edge of the seam. With his face practically buried in her chest, he growled, “But first, I’m going to fuck you with it on.”

��Rhys—”

“Right here,” he interrupted, rolling his hips forward for emphasis. “Against this wall.”

His erection was thick, pressing through his trousers so that she could feel its shape perfectly against the soaked lace of her underwear.

Her response was compulsive and utterly reluctant. “I have a roommate.”

His head snapped up, rising from her chest to search her face for a moment, before he flashed her a shameless smile. “Better hope you can keep quiet, then.”

Oh, holy forgotten gods. Feyre’s muscles clenched at the idea—of the ways that he could help her to ensure she stayed quiet, picturing those large hands wrapping over her mouth. Or better yet, her throat. But they were both drunk, and likely incapable of staying quiet, and she was going to say more to protest, but he cut her off by slipping a hand between her thighs.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, at the same time Feyre whimpered from the feeling of his thumb swiping against her clit. “Have you been this wet all night, Feyre?”

Yes. It was a show of extraordinary self control that she hadn’t asked Rhysand to take her in one of the alleyways behind Rita’s, like she’d contemplated doing several times when he’d been slowly grinding against her ass and whispering absolute filth into her ear.

Filth like describing what he was doing at this very moment, sliding her underwear down her legs.

He asked, almost casually, “Do you think you’ll need something to help you stay quiet?”

Surely he wasn’t suggesting…? Feyre bit her lip, feeling an anticipated thrill spike through her.

Trying her best to summon the seductress from Rita’s, she asked, “I think that depends on how confident you feel about your own… skill set.”

Rhysand clicked his tongue. “So bratty, Feyre.” He’d managed to slide her panties down her legs now, and she watched in disbelief as he balled them in his fist and raised the wet, crumbled fabric to her lips. “Open.”

She stared for a moment, unblinking, realizing that she’d never actually tasted herself before—except for the rare moments she’d been kissed after someone had gone down on her. It had never been unpleasant, but it had always been brief, accidental.

As if sensing her train of thought, or merely observing her hesitation, Rhysand licked her arousal off his fingers and smiled. “Don’t worry, darling. You taste exquisite.”

A bit dumbfounded, Feyre obediently parted her lips, allowing Rhysand to slip the balled up underwear into her mouth. The cotton stuck to her tongue, wet and tangy from her own arousal.

“Good girl, Feyre,” he said, stirring something dangerous and exhilarating inside of her. His thumb and forefinger squeezed against her cheeks, as if feeling the space the underwear took up in her mouth. “Do you taste how wet you are? So eager to be fucked.”

Her cheeks were heating up, embarrassed and aroused and trying to wade between those two conflicting feelings. No one had ever talked to her this way in the bedroom before. They weren’t even in the bedroom, and a strange part of her was getting off on the idea that Alis could walk out and find them like this, with her underwear in her mouth and a stranger praising her for being such an eager slut.

Rhysand’s fingers returned to her pussy, gliding through the wetness to tease at her entrance. She gasped, the sound smothered against her underwear, as he slowly slid a finger inside her, then another, sliding them both to the knuckle.

“Fuck,” he swore again. “I usually like to—I wanted to make you come first. On my fingers. But you’re so wet, Feyre. I think I could fuck you just like this. And I could put you on my tongue afterwards.”

Feyre’s head fell back against the wall. She bucked her hips forward, hoping her meaning was clear—just fuck me already, you asshole.

He laughed, hurriedly dropping a hand to his belt buckle to free himself from his trousers. She watched, saliva collecting in the recesses of her mouth as Rhys pushed his pants down just enough to free himself. He took his cock into his fist, pumping the thick length with two casual strokes before he adjusted himself at her entrance.

Feyre dug her fingers into his shoulder. She didn’t think any partner had ever been as big as he was, and it had been almost three months since she and Tamlin had last had sex.

“Is this what you want?” Rhys asked, pausing with his flushed head right against her cunt. She could feel it throbbing against her—or maybe that was her own ache building, so unbearable at times throughout the night that she’d barely resisted the urge to beg him to just bend her over one of the tables at Rita’s.

She thought of the last tequila shot they’d had before they left, how he’d poured the salt line against her throat, the way his tongue had scorched a path over her skin.

With a small, exasperated huff, Feyre ground against the head of his cock, trying to fuck herself on him if that’s what it would take.

That earned another cruel laugh. “I guess that answers my question,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers. “Pretty, needy thing.”

Then, with her head still spinning from his praise, Rhysand thrust his hips forward. Feyre’s hands turned to fists against his shirt.

“Oh, fuck,” Rhys choked out, all of his suave confidence suddenly forgotten.

Feyre was forgetting everything, too. Like how to breathe. There was no room for air in her body anymore. It was being squeezed out of her, escaping in a single, surprised gurgle as she became aware of every nerve, blazing white-hot while her body searched for a way to accommodate the space that Rhysand was demanding.

The wall at her back became a cool, solid extension of his body, caging her against him, leaving no space to squirm away as the head of his cock pushed into a group of nerves that had Feyre clenching around him, desperate to escape because otherwise she would scream and surely wake up Alis. Rhys felt it, because his eyes went wide, and a moment later one of his large hands was covering her mouth.

His eyes were dark, the color of the night sky when the moon was swallowed whole. “Right there?” he asked, stilling his hips, lingering against the spot that was causing splotches to dot her vision.

Feyre’s head lulled back, wondering if she found a version of euphoria that was so pure, it bordered on pain. She started babbling nonsense around the underwear, rendered into wet and smothered sounds against his hand while she began writhing desperately against him, grinding his dull head against that cluster of nerves over and over—until she was drunk on it, on him, on the way he swore softly beneath his breath and whispered, “That’s it Feyre. Use me. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

He allowed her a moment to chase her own pleasure, his full lips splitting open in awe, eyes half-lidded as he watched her grind her hips. Then, he started meeting her with slow, precise motions, keeping himself directly in that spot so that he was fucking her there, forcing her to come undone with every tortuous roll of his hips.

“Gods, Feyre,” he panted. “You should see yourself like this. You’re so beautiful. Letting me fuck you in your little dress. You’re so—” he halted, their hips flush together so that he could grind against that spot in one slow, deliberate movement that had Feyre heaving, spluttering against the underwear and his hand as she felt herself tighten around him. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

Her nails bit into his skin. She knew it must have hurt, but he only groaned, saying nothing in protest as she slid one hand into his hair and tugged. She wasn’t even certain what she was trying to tell him. Fuck me or harder or don’t stop. Or just please.

Please, please please.

It didn’t matter. Rhysand’s breathing was ragged, practically as undone as she was as his hips continued their onslaught. The momentum pushed her into the wall with every thrust, resulting in a dull thumping noise that nearly drowned out the sound of their slapping skin, or her gushing arousal, or the wanton moans he smothered with his palm.

His pace staggered a bit, and she thought he must have been close because he opted to drop his hand from her mouth in favor of rubbing her clit. She could feel her own drool against his fingers, wet as he circled them between her thighs. Some of it was still dribbling over her chin, but the mess that she’d become was the last thing on her mind while she bit down fiercely on her underwear in an effort not to scream.

Feyre didn’t know how to tell him that she was going to come. She tugged on his hair, a low whine building in her throat.

That must have been enough, because he whispered, “Oh, Feyre—baby, I know. Look at me, darling.” It was an effort, but she pulled her head upwards, meeting his burning violet eyes. “Such a good girl. You’re going to come for me, yeah?”

She nodded, knowing her eyes were as wide and wild as his own. Feyre didn’t know why, but in the midst of the surge of pleasure ratcheting up her spine, she felt suddenly tempted to reach up and brush aside some of the hair that was plastered to his forehead. She wanted to see his face, memorize the shape of his mouth as it slackened into an open ‘o’, moments before he leaned forward to kiss her—undeterred by the drool or the underwear or her desperate gasp for air as the mix of sensations threatened to drown her whole.

Rhysand groaned. The vibration lingered on her lips, then rippled, the final push to topple her over the edge. Feyre jerked her hips, uncertain if she was trying to escape or chase the ecstasy violently crashing over her body, causing every muscle to contract. Rhys kept her still, kept the rhythm of his fingers steady even as his own pace faltered. He gasped into her mouth, driving his cock deeper before his body stilled and she could feel the distant, pleasantly warm sensation of his release.

For a moment, the hallway went starkly quiet, disturbed only by their ragged breathing. Their chests rose and fell, brushing idly against each other like the sea over the shore. Eventually, Rhysand was the first to move—pulling his fingers from her clit so that he could push them into her mouth and pry the underwear free.

It made a horrifying squelching sound as the fabric hit the floor. Feyre met his eyes, mortified, but his lips were already stretching into a smile that immediately chased away her concern. He thought it was funny. That tugged a small smile to her lips too, and then they were laughing softly together as Rhysand errantly swiped his thumb over her chin, wiping away the excess saliva.

“Do you think we woke up your roommate?” he asked.

“If not, we can always try again. In my bedroom, this time.”

Rhys grinned. His hands slid down to support her weight so that he could pull them away from the wall. “Which door is yours?”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit—Shit!”

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door.

“Feyre?” Alis called. “Everything okay?”

“Just a minute,” Feyre called, in a voice which betrayed that everything was most definitely not okay.

She raised the small, digital stick closer to her face out of some misguided hope that the double lines were just a trick of the light. There was no way she was actually pregnant. She was on the pill, and she’d been taking the doses mostly on time.

Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic—

“Shit.”

#Take My Hand Wreck My Plans #Feysandweek2023 #feysand #feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction #feysand fic #Feyre x Rhys #Rhys x Feyre #Feyre x Rhysand #Rhysand x Feyre

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kudouusagi · 5 months

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Especially after the last chapter(15-2) people are confused why Souichi keeps saying they're not in a relationship. Let me tell you, it's not that he doesn't think that they are in a relationship, he just doesn't want other people to know that.

I know I've answered asks about when they started dating before but I don't think I've actually gone into detail about this so here we go again lol

They've been dating since the end of volume 8 and he is 100% aware of it. Souichi is just a lying liar who lies so he's not going to admit that to people unless it's absolutely necessary, but he knows it.

The #1 rule to remember when reading KSB: Souichi is a tsundere character.

Now let me quote from wikipedia about tsunderes:

"They usually play out as having an attitude toward the main character, either a male or a female, and often criticizing them in one way or another, until they eventually warm up to them or fall in love with them as the series progresses, though they usually find it very hard to admit it or outright deny it in some cases."

And if we look at the tv tropes page on tsundere, it even says people can be left scratching their heads if they're even together at all.

So denial is part of the formula for tsunderes and Souichi is a textbook tsundere. He's going to lie and deny it. That's just who he is.

When Takanaga was asked by fans after the series "ended" in Vol 8 if he was going to change in the continuation she said he wouldn't change that much because he is a tsundere character and he wouldn't be him if he changed that much.

In this chapter, Souichi made a big deal of saying that the rings were just friendship rings, but I think that's because he knows that if he allows Morinaga to call them something else, he'll slip and call them that around other people. He's probably right too. Morinaga has a track record.

If you want to see me go on a rant about how much they have progressed since then... keep reading.

They had the define the relationship talk in volume 8 and they have made progress in every single volume since then.

In volume 8 Souichi makes a big deal of asking him to stay by his side and saying that he's not running away anymore and they agreed that Morinaga would stay with him. (And I explained how those are ways to express love in Japanese over here in this post)

The "do whatever you want, idiot" is so tsundere it hurts lol

After this they even discussed about how the apartment was their home together.

In case you didn't know, this was the original place that Takanaga planned to stop at and so it was supposed to be clear they were together now. She had publicly announced that it was the end but then quickly realized that there was still more she wanted to write about them so Takanaga kept writing. The only reason she is still writing this story now is because she wants to.

Vol 9:

Here on the opening pages of Volume 9 we can see it saying "We thought their love story was over...?" and have a quote from Morinaga saying "You love me too, right, senpai?" (with the "love" left out but that's what it is).

Now, all Souichi does after this point is reassure Morinaga that they're together and he's not going anywhere. Yeah sure he denies it to other people, but he never does to Morinaga.

In this volume Morinaga feels insecure about leaving and wonders why Souichi likes his new helpers. Considering Morinaga had persistently bug Souichi for 2 years to even get him to remember he existed it's not a crazy thing to wonder about when it comes to Souichi.

They have a conversation about how Morinaga feels jealous and feels like the size of their feelings are different and Souichi doesn't deny that he has feelings and just tries to figure out why Morinaga feels that way. Souichi tells him not to doubt him because he came to the decision to stay with him and he's not going to change his mind that easily.

Vol 10: Souichi pushes Morinaga away in the bath and thinks he upset him so he thinks about it and tries to tell him he's not rejecting him he's just not used to all the touching. Souichi tries to make it clear that it's not Morinaga or his sexuality that he's rejecting. Because they had just been talking about Morinaga's parents rejecting him because of his sexuality. Morinaga says that even though Souichi was so homophobic before, he was never like his parents so there was no way he'd think that. (I also think the main reason Souichi even agreed to come along was because he assumed that Morinaga would want to try to visit his parents but I don't have firm proof of that besides him bringing them up)

Vol 11: Their whole problem in this volume is they're not communicating effectively. They go through the whole thing with Tadokoro only to find out that they're assuming things. Morinaga assumed Souichi would be like before and need an excuse to live with him if they didn't live together anymore and Souichi assumed they're together now so of course they'd move back in together when they could.

Of course once they decide that, Morinaga screwed it up for himself by reminding Souichi that his boundaries are different and he decides he still needs a separate room so he just stays in the apartment anyway. But they could have had that conversation without involving a third person and being messy so they're just terrible at communicating sometimes. Poor Tadokoro got caught up in their mess.

Vol 12: Morinaga finally moves out and starts his job. Souichi acts like he doesn't care and assumes that Morinaga will be back every weekend anyway so it won't be that different. Then Morinaga gets busy with training at work and doesn't come back for 2 months.

I want to point out that while Souichi throws his phone here he didn't actually write back to tell him no lol

So while they're living apart now, Souichi is trying to learn to communicate with him in ways that reassure him.

Then, Tadokoro is just trying to make conversation and brings up the house since he'd been involved in that mess and Souichi tries to deflect. Tadokoro tries to tell him he doesn't have to hide it because he knows and that just starts a whole new problem. Tadokoro doesn't know how big of a problem it is for Souichi to have other people know so that just blows up in his face. Souichi denies it only because he's embarrassed about it but not because it's not true.

Souichi doesn't tell Morinaga why he's so upset about it and stops communicating and so Morinaga thinks it's because something like what happened to him in high school has happened to Souichi because that would make him being angry about it make sense. Morinaga overthinks and gets sick and so Souichi ends up going to check on him. (I think it's really cute that Souichi has a spare key to Morinaga's place. They're husbands.)

Souichi realizes how much worrying about this affected Morinaga and then he doesn't care about Tadokoro knowing anymore. He doesn't try to correct him anymore, he just tells him not to talk about it. Tadokoro gives him an out telling him he just misunderstood but Souichi knows he knows because Morinaga told him he told him.

...Sorry, I also think there might be a missing in translation thing going on here because the word Morinaga uses to say he told him means something more like "I exposed our secret to him" but that's not the way someone would say that in English so.... yeah...

Vol 13: Souichi is getting softer and obviously misses Morinaga when Isogai visits. Isogai notices that he's lonely and offers to cook for him while Morinaga is out of town and he's there for work. Morinaga's pissed off about it but he's not actually worried about Isogai like he used to be in volumes 3 and 6 lol. Also while Souichi said he didn't care what happened when Isogai was on the phone with Morinaga he was obviously still listening because he came back and got pissed off when Isogai told Morinaga he was lonely but he didn't chime in any other time before that.

So, Isogai convinced Morinaga to call Souichi by his given name and changing how you call someone in Japanese is usually a pretty significant thing since it shows a change in the relationship. Morinaga has always called him "Senpai" which is a sign of respect because he is a younger student than him. Changing to his given name shows that their relationship is closer than that. Souichi doesn't think anything of it but then when hearing his name he found it embarrassing and it turned him on lol. But Souichi realizes that it would indicate to other people that something changed so he puts his foot down on doing it in front of other people.

Vol 14: After he finds out that Morinaga heard the girl, Souichi points out that he turned the girl down just to reassure Morinaga that he's not trying to get with anyone else. I think he was afraid it was going to a whole vol 9 scenario again but Morinaga has learned that he doesn't need to worry anymore so it wasn't a big deal. Then they have a whole conversation about how they're in a relationship but Souichi doesn't think it would affect anything if anyone found out. How you can look at this and think this man doesn't know he's in a gay relationship I don't know.

But he still doesn't want people to know who don't have to (because he thinks people knowing would mean they would know about what they do sexually because he really has no experience with relationships and the only person who knows is Isogai who saw him getting jacked off in the street lol.... you can't convince me this man has ever been in a relationship in his life before this).

When Morinaga tells him other people don't have to know anything else he's more open to it but still.... they have this whole conversation about being in a relationship and telling people. Souichi never denied it the whole time, he just didn't want to tell anyone.

And then the barrage of people come to hit on Souichi and he just wants to get rid of them. Morinaga convinces him to wear a ring to get rid of them. Souichi is socially dumb so he doesn't "get" rings but he knows it means he's in a relationship and he agreed to wear the matching rings.

Vol 15: Which brings us to now.

Now they've been together for 2 years since volume 8 and have been actively choosing to stay together because Morinaga graduated and lives in a completely different city. They're even wearing rings that definitely cost over $1000 each.

I checked and these are the rings that look closest the one ones they are wearing that I saw on the Cartier website.

So of course Souichi lied to his family. Souichi JUST said in vol 14 that his family were the last ones he'd want to tell about this and they almost found out already lol. But that's just because he doesn't want other people to know. (Souichi is lucky his family is so gullible). He's been fully committed to this relationship for 2 whole years now.

#koisuru boukun #I kept writing stuff and deleting it #I didn't know what I wanted to say with this post #They've been together since vol 8 people.#Everything after is just them building their relationship #I guess I'm posting this now lol

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outalongtheedges · 3 months

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Goose on Film pt2

Part 1 Masterlist

The big photo albums that Goose kept all of his pictures in, took up the majority of the bookcases in the Bradshaw's study, lining at least the two bottom rows. Goose on Film Volumes 1 - infinity for all Ice cared. He never really bothered to count them, cause whenever he had tried to, Goose had produced another one, adding it to the shelf after making a whole show out of it. Goose would get out the projector and made all of them sit in his living room while telling them a story about each and every one of the photos he's taken for this album.

Ice would be lying to himself and everyone he knew if he didn't admit that he at least enjoyed those evenings just a little bit. In fact he loved them, together with everyone he cares about, Mav by his side laughing and smiling.

Today was another evening like that, celebrating Goose on Film volume 30-something. Mav's last mission, him and Bradley smiling and laughing as they had made it out alive, BBQ at their place last summer and much more.

Ice stared at the cork board with a faint smile, looking at the things Goose and Carole had deemed as important enough to hang up on there. Two post-it notes, one with an airplane Goose had tried to draw that came out looking more like a fish, the two photos he had to steal back from Mav and Slider's wife, a negative to a picture of him and Mav from the 90s and of course their entire pride and joy, a picture little Brad Brad had drawn them. Not being able to draw planes seems to run in the family.

Ice smiled like he only did in private, looking at all the memories the Bradshaws had kept over the years, their entire house a testament to a life full of memories worthy of being stored out in the open.

Goose on Film Vol. 5, open on the floor, first page showing Mavericks sloppy all caps handwriting in a pen that had already seen its best days by the time Goose made his husband write the title with it. The photo to the negative that was on the cork board, gleamed at him in mint condition, like it had never been touched or seen the light of day. Maverick never seemed to look at the camera when he was so most of the photos they have together are of either him or Mav looking at anything other than the camera pointing at them. Nothings changed there.

Sometimes Ice doesn't know which exit ramp on which highway he took to end up here, but he won't question it.

"Ice come back! Carole's getting the ice cream!"

His smile grew, bidding the albums and the cork board a last goodbye. "Until next time", Ice whispered and turned back around to his family.

Listen I know I promised this thing to you guys at least a month ago, I apologize. My apprenticeship is beating my ass right now, time wise mostly. Thing is I've also been writing on an icemav ff. I'm not going to promise you ppl any time frames, cause I know it won't work out, but it'll come.

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vrisrezis · 11 months

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Just the progression of rocket and y/ns relationshio throughout the movies? Like their relationship in vol1, 2, infinity war, endgame, holiday special maybe? and then vol 3?

Vol 1 :

You and rocket aren’t the closest automatically, I imagine rocket being very sarcastic towards you as he normally is with everyone else. I imagine rocket would find you attractive right away though, and would not shy away from nicknames like doll. He’d do it in a teasing way though, to not make it the most noticeable that he’s perhaps interested in you. However if you are like him and happen to be animalistic, he is noticeably a little different in terms of his sarcasm and he’s more likely to grow a soft spot for you quickly. However, you form a close bond after you comfort him in his drunken state, when he calls himself a monster. You have no reason to be so kind to him, after everything he’s done since the two of you met, so it strikes a cord in him. From on that point he’s noticeably softer and he might even start to gain feelings that are a little deeper than just initial “oh they’re hot” his feelings only growing deeper when you comfort him when he thought he lost groot. Again, doing something out of kindness when you don’t have to.

Vol 2 :

The two of you are close friends at this point, you’ve helped him raise groot. All of them had, but you especially. Nowadays, you often talk to him while he’s tinkering with random things. You become mad at him for stealing batteries, which leads to you joining quill and the others on his dad journey. You two separate for the first time since knowing eachother, and rocket is left to self reflect on himself (thanks to yondu). He’s able to realize he’s been pushing people away or acting like he doesn’t care for them, he even does so with you. Yondu tells him, if he really loves you, he should show it. I imagine he stopped acting like he didn’t care for groot after watching him almost die, so I imagine that when he sees you again, after that point no longer pretends he doesn’t care for you. He ends up confessing he cares for you deeply, and while his confession is obviously romantic, you take it as platonic. He does this right before you try to save quill, and you’re still persistent even after his confession, so he’s forced to tase you. After that though, the two of you do finally make up and he properly apologizes to you.

I am groot:

The two of you have an unspoken relationship. You two are very much like parents to groot at this point, and groot makes this very aware to the both of you. You don’t think much of it, as it makes sense since you’ve helped rocket so much in taking care of groot. However there seems to be an unspoken tension that gets even stronger because of what he’s told you both, called you both. Rocket is not only more aware of his feelings, he’s more aware that groot knows. Rocket knows he should do something about his feelings, but he stays silent.

Infinity war:

While he is once again sad to see the two of you separate again, it’s for the fate of the universe. You decide to stay with the morons in order to keep them safe, and rocket understands. It’s in your nature to be selfless and that you’d want to keep your family safe. Also, the fact rocket and groot are gonna be with the god of thunder certainly helps you feel more secure in the fact he and groot will be fine. Rocket casually demands a hug goodbye from you, growing more comfortable at this point for his feelings towards you without saying anything outright. Your relationship always seemed very friendly, but this time it feels more intimate and romantic, despite the fact neither of you have made your feelings aware to one another.

Endgame:

The two of you find solace in one another after the loss of your family. You end up dating over the course of the 5 years you two spent on earth together. After all the grief and pain, it’s something rocket simply could not keep to himself anymore. Especially since, he truly wants you to know he loves and cares for you, deeply. He thought for a moment you were gone too, before you came to earth along with nebula and Tony. He has made the effort since then for you to realize how much he cares. The two of you seperate, you deciding to help Tony, Steve, and others go back in time. Rocket bids you farewell, giving you a nice hug and a kiss. You two reunite after all is said and done, happy to see one another in one piece, as well as your family.

Holiday special:

Your relationship is a newfound development by the other guardians at this point, but mantis still manages to find you two adorable whilst everyone else is kinda offput by it at the moment. Not in a bad way, it’s just kinda new to them. You spend a lot of your time together this day, and eventually helping mantis set up Christmas for Peter. You gave eachother special gifts to one another, you granted him a special weapon designed by the people of wakanda, a weapon that can turn into any weapon at will. And what he got you? A necklace you loved that he broke… forever ago. He’s very embarrassed about his gift in comparison to yours, but you were still happy with it. Oh, and Peter was in a funny mood that day, so he even set up a mistletoe for you two to kiss under.

Vol 3.

Since you spend most of it praying your beloved isn’t dead, you don’t exactly interact with him specifically … very much. You go through hell and back just to make sure he comes alive okay, and he does. You embrace eachother the second you see eachother again, a very different embrace than any other hug you two gave one another. A mutual agreement that you’re both glad rockets alive. You fight together (albeit you’re a little protective of him), and after everything’s said and done, rocket is the captain. You’re still by his side, but now you’re following orders. In the past you would’ve made fun of him for suggesting he was captain, but now, it just feels right.

#rocket the raccoon x reader #rocket raccoon x reader #rocket racoon x reader #rocket x reader #mcu x y/n #mcu x you #mcu x reader #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #marvel x reader

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hood-ex · 7 months

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You’re like the Dick Grayson encyclopedia of tumblr to me, so here is a question (no need to answer if you don’t want to lol). I’ve been thinking a lot of Dick’s many TBIs due to one of my classes… anyways, do you know when Dick’s significant TBI’s happened? Like what comics specifically? (Also, this is just for anyone, but you can answer if you’d like: does DC every say what part of Dick’s brain got injured during his TBIs?)

Idk one of my classes has talked a lot about specific brain functions and what could happen if certain areas are injured, and I obviously thought of my head trauma king. Got me thinking about the consequences Dick could have or should have faced with his TBIs 🤔

Dick's been clobbered in the head with a variety of things an ungodly amount of times. I even once made a post about different times Dick got clobbered in the head with like a baseball bat, golf club, etc. And then other people piled on more examples so lol yeah, I suppose some of those would be considered... less significant TBI's.

His most recent significant TBI did show which area of his brain got injured:

Nightwing (Vol. 4) #50

According to Dick, he lost bone, blood, brain tissue, and cerebrospinal fluid, and he also suffered from severe vascular swelling. He talked about how one of the effects of this was having a jump in consciousness. Like he wouldn’t understand how he ended up somewhere. - Nightwing (Vol. 4) #50

Right after the incident, he also couldn’t talk or feed himself (which isn't the case in Nightwing Annual #2 but whatever). - Nightwing (Vol. 4) #54

Dick's been shot in the head another time in Batman and Robin (Vol. 1) #15. Dr. Hurt fractured the back of Dick's skull to cause a hematoma. The intended effect was to have blood absorbed in the cerebrospinal fluid which would give Dick permanent neurological damage. So, basically, he wanted to turn Dick into a vegetable. Here's the placement of the bullet in case you were curious:

Batman and Robin (Vol. 1) #15

From here on out, it depends on what you'd classify as a major TBI. I mean, he once got clobbered on the top of his head with an extremely heavy looking mallet. He ended up blacking out from it for an extended period of time, so I'd personally count this as something on the more extreme side.

Nightwing (Vol. 3) #16

And speaking of blacking out, Dick blacked out four times in the current Nightwing run because he kept getting hit in the head (this takes place after Dick gets shot in the head by KGBeast—except the flashback one—sooo... his brain is probably feeling extra soupy now 😌):

Nightwing (Vol. 4) #92

Nightwing (Vol. 4) #81

Nightwing (Vol. 4) #101

In Robin: Year One #2-3, Dick had bandages around his head and might have taken a shot to the head from Two-Face's bat (though, luckily, Two-Face didn't get to deliver the final blow to Dick's head that would have killed him instantly). It seems like other internal injuries were more prominent as well as the fact that Dick's throat started to swell so badly that Alfred had to intubate him. Nevertheless, Dick nearly died from the severe beating, and the head injury might have increased his chance of dying.

Robin: Year One #3

In Superman/Batman #55, Bruce got Superman’s powers and he ended up losing control of himself. He broke Dick’s jaw, knocked some of his teeth out, and caused other fractures to Dick’s body (it doesn't specify where the fractures are but Dick's head possibly might be fractured considering the bandages). Bruce warned Dick that one more hit would kill him (very RYO-esque, no 😌?).

Superman/Batman #55

And, again, we could probably go on and on with him getting hit in the head and blacking out over this and that, so I'll end it here.

#woke up from a nap w a headache and these are all i can think of rn but if anyone else can think of a major tbi then go ahead and list it #Dick Grayson #TBI #head injuries #anon

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guardian-rocket · 11 months

Text

What GOTG Vol 3 reveals about MCU Rocket that we didn't already know

He is depressed and he knows he has 'emotionalistic issues' that prevents him from being able to help Star-Lord

Regardless he is worried about Peter.

After 7 years of friendship, Star-Lord keeps calling him a raccoon even though he knows Rocket hates it. (12 years total, -5 of the blip)

He did modifications for Nebula including creating her new versatile cybernetic prosthetic arm, and likely work on her facial implants

His wasn't built for anything other than to be learned from for science never being intended for any greater purpose

Rocket had a kill switch installed in him during his creation to protect his creators research

He can drink from a straw?

He eats grilled orloni meat

His first word was 'Hurts!' said while trembling

He was fed a false narrative he'd have a life worth his torture and obedience and that his docile nature was desirable and he was full of hope for it

He loved the other experiments he was caged with wholeheartedly and without a shred of callousness

He writes with his right hand (and in a language that goes right to left?)

He wanted to fly, this is something that is pure to him and him alone. The sky called him on a personal level.

He never intended to become violent. This happened after he got to his breaking point in losing his friend Lylla which immediate pushed him into his violent nature resulting in his first assaults and murders

Rocket's creation was physically painful and he was operated on while conscious and likely without anesthesia. Nebula says it was worse than what Thanos did to him and while we don't see the 'footage' it appears to be hard to watch from the characters who view it

Rocket's nature to steal was something he started doing out of impulse

Rocket is incredibly smart beyond what most people assumed, while some of his knowledge was rote memorization he also has a unique capability of inventiveness that was accidental, making him one of the most advanced intelligent characters in the MCU

Rocket use to not speak very well, he's add s's to the ends of words or just pair one or two words together 'What sounds?', 'We like it?'

Rocket escaped because if he didn't they were going to remove his brain (for science!)

The raccoons that Rocket was among came from North America, Earth which makes him Terran

Rocket wasn't introduced to music from Peter. He liked it since he was little (which was likely why he use to hum to himself whenever he worked at putting things together in vol 1 and listened to music while he worked in vol 2)

Rocket does sing and know words to songs (we saw a glimpse of it in the Southern Nights scene in vol 2 but we see more of it solidifying he does it often)

Rocket has his own apartment, he steals Peter's zune so frequently he even has his own dock for it (and also seems to take care of it when it's in his possession)

Rockets apartment is literally right next to Peter's

Rocket's bed is just a damaged door and a thin blanket, confirmed by Gunn that it is because sleeping on metal is what he was accustomed to

Rocket has a plant in his apartment; not important but he's a plant dad to more than just Groot

Rocket is a dancer (at least at the end of the movie)

He immediately appears to panic hearing the voice of his creator showing he has some ptsd from it (very valid)

He didn't deny being a Raccoon out of self denial or wanting to be seen for 'what' he is now, it was just a misunderstanding that he thought it was akin to a slur or something because of how he was introduced to the word (as an insult) and he embraces the name after realizing it for himself now no longer wondering if he's a rabbit or a Build-a-Bear.

Rocket was able to escape when he was basically, mentally a teenager

Rockets body was covered in braces while his body covered from the operations he underwent on his hands, legs and chest and didn't get clothes until after he escaped

Rocket has his subject number tattooed on his chest

Rocket is multi-lingual in at least English and whatever language the Star Children speak Orbose and this may likely not be just due to a translator implant like most cosmic marvel characters

Rocket has been carrying a physical reminder of his failure to his friends his entire life (the key to the cages of the lab he created from scraps he stole over his time there)

He never elaborates on his past to his friends about his origins. 'He won't talk about it'.

End of movie we see that Rocket likes discussing music (and confirms thinking Brittany Spears and Korn are good favorites)

#gotg3 #gotg3spoilers #gotg3 spoilers #gotg #rocketraccoon #rocket #long post #tw: spoilers #spoilers

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appocalipse · 2 years

Text

UNSPOKEN FEELINGS → steve harrington

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Words: 2,473

Warnings: none (?) spoilers for season 4 vol. 1, in case you haven’t watched it, i guess

Summary: The reader is Dustin’s older sister; she most likely wasn’t around for the events of season one and maybe even two, seeing as she used to live with her father out of town. But, once she moved back in and met Steve, they became friends and before she could notice it, she had grown much more complicated feelings for him. And after all the craziness they’ve been through with Vecna, maybe it’s time to find out if he feels the same....or if fate wanted Steve and Nancy together again.

A/N: this is set after the events of season 4; since vol. 2 hasn’t been released yet, let’s pretend all is well and no one died in it. also, i wrote this at 3 am, so please bear with me lol

if you’d like, listen to this while reading.

---------

Fate didn’t seem to like you very much.

There had been a thousand things happening at once; Vecna, the Upside Down, Joyce and her family moving out...and then there was your feelings towards Steve.

For a while, you thought it was stupid; your younger brother Dustin idolized the guy, and you ended up spending a great deal of time with him and Robin, so it was only natural to have a little crush on Steve Harrington. He was nice, good-looking, funny... But that innocent feeling grew. And grew. And then grew a little more.

And when he was dragged into the Watergate, you almost felt fisical pain thinking about living in a world without Steve.

There was only one word that could describe that feeling: love. And now it was too late to ignore it.

Now that you were all back at the real world, Hawkins was holding some sort of festival — you were not sure why, but it was a small town kinda thing — and you and your friends were trying to have a normal moment after all the chaos you had just been through. The silly excuse to dress up and go out to dance was greatly appreciated, thank you very much.

During the last fight, your arm ended up broken; reason why you were now wearing a cast, but it didn’t really bother you all that much. It was a small price to pay. Max almost died; your arm would heal.

But that night, when a smiling Steve asked you to dance, you suspected it was because he didn’t want you to feel left out because of your arm — it would obviously get in the way of a normal dancing stance. But Steve was sweet enough not to mind; he took your right hand in his (you ignored the butterflies in your stomach) and placed his other hand on your waist (ignoring, keep ignoring them,Y/N!), carefully avoiding to touch your left arm as you moved to the rhythm of whatever song was being played.

There was a nice, warm feeling building up inside of you....until he brought up Robin and Eddie's opinions on Nancy's actions. They were certain her feelings for Steve were coming back, judging by the way she wasted no second on risking her life for him, or staring at him whenever she thought no one was looking. Her relationship with Jonathan was also not in its best moment.

Maybe her feelings for Steve never really left. First love is a complicated thing.

“So...what do you think?” Steve asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but you caught a hint of tension in his voice. Of course he would ask for your advice; of course.

What the hell am I supposed to say?

Your brain doesn’t normally function half as well around Steve under normal circumstances, but now that you were literally in his arms...did he really expect some sort of plausible answer?

“I don’t know...I think-” you began, but just as the words left your mouth, your eyes instinctively fell down on Nancy’s bright smile across the room and you stopped mid-sentence; she was wearing a beautiful blue dress, her hair carefully done up, and while you observed her talking to her brother, Mike, you suddenly realized that you couldn't possibly see a reason why Steve would not love her still. You had only been around her for the last few days and she had already managed to make you like her, care about her... hell, you could consider her a friend after all you had been through together, with Vecna and all that. You had actually come to admire her, no matter how hard you tried to dislike her at first, thanks to your unspoken feelings for Steve.

And of course they were right. Robin and Eddie, they were right. Deep down, you knew that Steve loved her back as well. He always did; he just didn’t know that, or didn’t want to acknowledge the fact out loud. Why else would all those dates of his never work out? Why else would he get so eager to protect her at all times?

Realization hit you in a moment...well, more like a second. And you knew. You knew that no matter the extent of your feelings for Steve, no matter how Dustin claimed there was evidence he liked you back, no matter all the sleepless nights you spent thinking what could happen if you confessed to him...you knew that it wasn't your place to stand between Steve and Nancy.

"I think she really, really cares about you, and you should...." you paused, feeling tears threatening to form as your mouth seemed to fail at getting the words out. Luckily, the music and the voices were more than enough to mask any sign of sadness in your voice. Steve, fortunately, wasn't looking at your face at that point; he didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular.

You cleared your throat and forced the words out. "She is right over there and this is the perfect opportunity for you to ask her to dance, Steve."

Over Steve's shoulder, you spotted Dustin eyeing you both dancing with hopeful eyes, moving his upper body absentmindedly to the rhythm of the music from his seat, a big smile appearing on his face as he caught you looking back at him, if only for a moment. You slowly shook your head no; his smile was quickly replaced by a confused expression, and you forced a smile of your own in a pathetic attempt to calm him down.

Steve looked at you right this instant, his expression showing something you couldn't quite read — surprise? Shock?

"Go ahead, ask her," you encouraged, keeping the same fake smile on your face and hoping it was enough to reassure him, cause it was most likely the best you could come up with at the moment. "I'll go...to the bathroom."

"But I'm-"

At this point, you both had stopped moving, and you decided to step back. It could have been your imagination, but you got the feeling that his hand seemed hesitant to let yours go until the last moment, when you were out of his reach and turned away.

You walked fast, moving carefully around all the couples on the dance floor; but, contrary to what you told him, your feet didn't get you towards the bathroom. The bathroom would have people in it. Happy people. And you would eventually have to get out of there and risk seeing Steve and Nancy making up and God knows what else on your way out.

No. You walked towards the exit, the doors that led to the hallways and to the back doors of the school, where no one would be.

You sat on the ground, seeing as there was nowhere else to sit, listening to the heavy rain that muffled most sounds coming from inside the building, and tried not to think too much over what you had just done. One could almost forget that there was a party going on at all; the storm was picking up fast, and sometimes a lonely thunder would paint the sky a shade of light blue.

At least the scenery fitted well with your current situation.

When your face got wet though, the rain was not to blame. You were luckily sheltered from it in your little spot on the ground. But your heart? There was no way to shelter it from those feelings.

A lonely tear slid down your cheek; you looked up at the sky, absentmindedly, trying to justify to yourself why on God's green Earth you where crying over something like that.

You looked down at your own arm. It seemed stupid — petty, even — to be crying over something so little as an unrequited love after all the things you and your friends at Hawkins had been through...but you couldn't stop. And so you allowed yourself to cry, because...

Why should I not? After all I’ve been through, why can’t I have one normal emotion for a person my age, instead of fear, anger, or despair?

You would eventually get over it.

Steve loved Nancy. Big Deal. You never expected him to love you back. Not really. It was hurting right now because you thought maybe, just maybe, after everything that went on with Vecna and all the pain you all had to endure, you'd be given a period of happiness and peace to make up for all the tragedy — perhaps the universe itself would grant such a blessing. But so be it. Maybe you could go back to living with your father, away from Hawkins for a time...

And that's when the doors slammed open once again, startling you, and through them Steve Harrington stepped out, his gentle brown eyes instantly finding the mess you were at the moment, sitting on the floor.

Boy, did the universe hate you.

You hurriedly wiped away your tears, desperately trying to hide the fact that you've been crying. Somewhere in your mind you registered the shock on his face becoming worry, and you looked straight ahead, thinking of ways this could go better than you making a fool out of yourself in front of him of all people.

Steve didn't say anything at first — he looked out of place, not sure where to put his own hands or where exactly to look at. You pressed your eyes closed, letting your head rest against the cold wall behind you, kinda wishing he would just disappear — maybe he was just your mind playing tricks on you...

"What are you doing on the floor?"

Nope, you couldn’t be that lucky.

"Just go, please," normally, you would have a snarky comeback to his question, but right now you couldn't find it in yourself to answer in that way.

Steve took a deep, audible breath. You still didn't open your eyes.

But you felt it when he sat down next to you, careful not to bump into your broken arm, though it hardly hurt anymore.

"Steve, please."

"You were crying," it was not a question.

How cliche could you be? Although you'd never stopped to think about it, Steve was probably your best friend, you were in love with him, and now there was a hundred percent chance he had put two and two together and figured out why you were crying as well.

And even so, you blurted out the first lie your tired mind could muster, because that’s how you could keep yourself from panicking completely. "My arm hurts."

What, obviously, didn’t convince him.

"Liar."

"Can we just talk tomorrow?"

"You're really rude, you know that?"

You finally looked at him. His eyes were already on you, and you struggled to think clearly with how close you two where... but then you grasped a new feeling inside you: anger, and you held on to it.

"Excuse me?"

You could stand the thought of being rejected. Everybody was rejected at least once in their life, and you were no stranger to the feeling; you just didn't want anyone to witness the aftermath of it firsthand, let alone the person who rejected you, and yet here he were, making the task of putting your feelings for him behind you incredibly difficult.

"We were dancing and you just stormed off mid-song,” he said, matter-of-factly.

"I didn't storm off-" you felt exhasperation getting the better of you, messing up each and every thought you tried to put into words. "You asked me about....I told you to go and dance with her, so I got out of your-"

"I was dancing with you!", great, now the screaming contest was about to begin.

"Yes, but you wanted to be dancing with her!"

"OH, so now you know everything I want?"

"I know the obvious!"

He scoffed, but when he spoke again, his tone was so calm and his voice was so low that you couldn’t tell if Steve was certain he wanted to be heard. "Oh no, you absolutely don't."

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know, for someone really, really smart, sometimes you read it all wrong.”

A few seconds passed by without both of you saying anything; you looking at him, him looking down at the ground, mindlessly playing with a dry leaf he must have found nearby on the floor...and then it hit you. What he was implying. What he was trying to make you believe, that is. Was he really too kind to let someone down?

“Oh my God, no,” you let out a bitter chuckle, trying to get up, which proved to be more of an challenge with only one good arm available than you antecipated. “No, no, you're not doing this.”

Steve seemed to panic as he watched you moving to stand up, and he quickly grabbed your wrist — the one that wasn't on a cast. “Wait, where are you going?”

For a second, you looked down at where he was holding you in place, stunned, then back at his face, catching Steve looking back at you with some sort of conflict passing behind his brown eyes. “Let go.”

And then he too got up, still nowhere near inclined to let go of your arm.

“I can't.”

"What do you mean, you can't? Of course you can. Just let go of me and I’ll go home, and you can go back inside and we can pretend this never happened-", you tried to yank your wrist free, but Steve didn't let go; instead, he took a step closer...and suddenly you were close enough for a kiss, and all the butterflies came back, and there was this scene playing inside your head where one of you slowly leaned in and...

You stared down at your feet, feeling tears once again welling up in your eyes. "Please don't do this."

"Don't do what?" you weren't looking at his face, but he sounded genuinely confused, maybe even worried.

"Pretend you like me."

"I do like you."

"Not in that way," you took a step back, and this time around he let your arm go. The words began leaving your mouth even before your brain could register it. "Look, whatever it is that Dustin asked you to do, or whatever you feel you owe him, or me, you don't. It's not your fault I lo-"

You froze mid-sentence. And there it was, those words anyone smart dreaded to say to the wrong person, on the tip of your tongue...and the worst part was that you didn’t even knew you were about to say them until it was to late to act like it didnt happen.

Steve was giving you a stunned look, uncertain, and when he shifted closer, you moved a step back. "Y/N-"

“I’ll just go home.”

A/N: part 2 is now OUT! Read here. ♥

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things drabble #stranger things oneshot #xreader #oneshot #eddie munson #steve harrington oneshot #steve x reader #steve x nancy #nancy wheeler #st4 #dustin henderson #angst

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