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#platonic domestic bliss
citnamora · 1 year
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I love domestic situations that are entirely platonic. I love seeing people who enjoy each other's presence in their lives so much that they decide to come together under one roof. Maybe it was to fill the hole left by a previous partner, and the arrangement was such a beautiful addition to their relationship that they decided to keep it that way, not intending at first to stretch it out this long. Maybe it was a crisis scenario where they needed to be closer, one or both feeling less safe by themselves in their own place. Maybe it's two people who were never as close before moving in but who find something special in each other that tempts them further. Maybe they didn't like each other at first but learn to appreciate the dynamic they bring to each other's lives. There's just so much beauty in trusting someone enough to home with them, you know?
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findafight · 2 years
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Putting out into the universe Demi romantic Steve. He likes flirting and physical stuff but he also wants a Real Connection and for him it takes a seemingly too long time. He wants the Spark he talked about for more than just physical chemistry. That's why he's struggling with second dates. He WANTS to feel romantic attraction but doesn't realize that he's not operating on the same field as most others and doesn't want to date if he doesn't really know them.
With Nancy he was low-key going through the motions and legit wanted to like her and they got closer before they were "official" and he fell really hard because Nancy is Nancy. When he confessed to Robin and then immediately changed gears it was because those crush feelings were stemming from his big fat (like absolutely MASSIVE) squish on her because Robin is amazing, and so cool, and obviously he wants her to be in his life, so it wasn't hard for him to go into supportive bestie mode and not get romantic feelings.
Idk I want arospec Steve I think it fits him and his frustration in his journey and search for (romantic) love.
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casmick-consequences · 6 months
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anyway happy birthday cas hope you're up there enjoying the cake that your kid jack and your bestie kelly made for you 💕💕💕💕
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cunningmyers · 1 year
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corey and michael need to get away, and the midwest is slowly fading in the rear view mirror. corey thinks they're on their honeymoon; michael has never seen as much open space as he does on the open road. it's the journey that matters, because their road trip has no definite ending.
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NO TENDERNESS (2023)
[characters] starring:
corey -> obsessive and delusional, corey is living the american dream. his new life is on the run with his... with michael, staying in cheap motels and robbing liquor stores. but he's young and in love, so what else could he want?
michael -> after a lifetime behind bars, michael's finally free. with his boytoy in tow, he's leaving the midwest behind. he can't shake the impulses, but corey's boyish excitement is rubbing off on him in the form of fast food, roadside attractions and open roads.
[tag list] with:
aes: no tenderness -> bonnie and clyde have nothing on corey and michael, and their relationship is definitely x-rated.
aes: midwest in the rear view -> landscapes/scenic (there's a big wide world out there to see on the road).
aes: like a man starved -> food and restaurants, because they eat like shit.
aes: roads are winding -> roads and cars; an indefinite road trip means a hell of a lot of cars swapped and highways travelled.
aes: love to get lost in -> gas stations and convinience stores (god sends on the road).
aes: shade of the sheets -> motels, because sometimes all you need is a place to rest your weary head (a vibrating bed is just a bonus).
aes: dirty domestic bliss -> mementos of corey and michael's life together, it's not much but it's home.
aes: momma's boy -> corey is a momma's boy, and reminders of that are never too far away.
aes: daddy's boy -> corey's dad may of left him, but that doesn't stop corey seeing him in every man he meets.
aes: centrefold -> because corey is too handsome for his own good and this very much an x-rated romance.
aes: can't clean the blood -> blood, guts, gore. the bloodlust is never quite quelled.
aes: taken by the american dream -> malls, drive-ins, casinos and all things americana. this is the america corey was made for.
aes: trouble in paradise -> how long can the honeymoon phase last? sometimes reality hits.
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nvirskies · 2 months
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sand - c. la rue
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idea taken from one of @star-girl69 's asks about married clarisse and immediately went to think about how the vast majority of greek demigods didn't get to live past their 20's or even teen years... and the survivor's guilt that would come with being one of the few lucky enough to live longer.
warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, traumatic nightmare flashbacks, descriptions of violence, descriptions of blood + war, spoilers for TLO, set after both reader and clarisse leave CHB about 6-8 years into the future, google translated Greek term of endearment, crying, survivor's guilt, platonic RueGard, ooc Clarisse, she's matured more over time and more articulate with her feelings and words
summary: clarisse wakes up from a particularly bad nightmare in the middle of the night, reader comforts her through a breakdown
wife!fem!demigod!reader x wife!clarisse la rue
word count: 2.2k
καρδιά μου (kardiá mou) - my heart
Η καρδιά μου είναι η καρδιά σου (I kardiá mou eínai i kardiá sou) - my heart is your heart
"but you have more pieces of me than than desert has sand, and I have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand" sand, alchemical: vol. 1, dove cameron
taglist: @lvrue @star-girl69 @azrielsdiary @petitegavotte @b0ok-lover
men, nsfw, non-sapphic, 16-/19+ dni
Greek demigods fell in love hard and fast with an unmatched intensity. They normally didn’t live long enough to even envision themselves in their adult lives, and why would they? Every day was a struggle to stay alive with monsters coming in from all angles and quests most didn’t come back from.
And that was why, as soon as the two of you graduated high school, Clarisse got down on a knee and proposed with the knowledge that you were the one she would want to spend the rest of her life, however long or short, with.
When you two had graduated college, the next thing in the books was to make it official in the courthouse, and that was what you had done. No extravagant party or ceremony, just a quiet day in the courthouse and a night in to celebrate.
But no matter how far the two of you ran from Camp Half-Blood, the nightmares never went away, never got better. As the years passed, more of the people you had considered friends died. One after the other, falling like cursed dominos, helplessly standing by as they all tumbled down.
Soon, the nightmares became more about the people that were lost than the monsters themselves. Nightly plagues of searingly painful memories from watching the life drain from so many demigods’ eyes burned themselves in both of your psyches.
All you could do was hope Charon would be kind enough to ferry them across the Styx without his payment of a silver coin.
And tonight certainly hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary with the two of you and your limbs interlaced in a protective embrace while sleep claimed your minds, as if the both of you could protect each other from the monsters both in and outside.
Your head, nestled into her chest. Her deep, rhythmic breathing made your hair flutter ever so slightly as she exhaled. Her arms, wrapped loosely around your waist, hands not-so-sneakily under the baggy shirt of hers you had stolen to wear as pajamas for the night. It was all perfect. Too perfect.
You would be damned fools to think that peace would last for so long. Demigods didn’t get peace, they didn’t get tranquility, and they especially didn’t get uninterrupted domestic bliss.
Unbeknownst to you, Clarisse’s face contorted into one of distress. Her arms pulled you in closer subconsciously as the all too familiar face of Morpheus greeted her with a sly smirk on his face in her dreams.
In moments, she was transported back to the Battle of Manhattan.
She was seventeen again.
Blood was everywhere. Abandoned weapons lay on the floor, the hands that once gripped them tightly, now loose and limp. Shrill screams echoed throughout the air, all cut short by gut-wrenching sounds of fatal injury. Metal cut through flesh. Acid burnt through metal. Flames licked and greedily consumed anything and everything as fuel.
Her feet felt heavy, her hands numb. She could do nothing but stand and watch it all unfold before her own eyes, forced to relive the carnage and devastation that had ripped through Manhattan on that fateful day.
Morpheus’ voice whispered in her right ear, the sound of it sending an uneasy chill down her spine. “Daughter of Ares. A fitting dream, no? Your father must have been proud of you for the way you fought after… well, I’ll let you relive that, too.” Before she could blink, she was transported to the moment right after Silena had been sprayed by the Lydian Drakon.
Clarisse was too late. She had always been too late.
She was back on her knees, choking and weeping bitterly as Silena lay in her arms, watching as life slowly left her once-lively eyes.
What kind of a warrior even was she? So weak that she couldn’t even protect her friend? Too weak to protect the girl who had adorned her armor and led her siblings into battle?
Just as Clarisse reached out to touch Silena’s face to wipe away the one mark of smudged eyeliner that the Aphrodite girl normally would never have even allowed to happen in the past, she was jerked back to consciousness, eyes flying open and arms almost crushing your sleeping form momentarily as she came to.
No longer was she in Manhattan, instead sheltered in the familiarly adorned walls of your shared bedroom. Upon the walls hung framed pictures of joyous times past and her sword collection, among other things.
Familiar faces stared back at her, some faces that would never age again. Immortalized memories of times that would never happen again. Everyone was dead or scattered across the globe.
A particular picture caught Clarisse’s eye. It was a portrait of Silena that she had commissioned one of the Apollo kids to draw for the daughter of Aphrodite’s seventeenth birthday.
She never lived to see that day.
Her eyes locked with Silena’s in the drawing for a moment, and that moment was one too much as hot tears began to prick in the corners of her eyes.
She had inadvertently woken you up with the way her arms tightened around your waist in a near vice grip, slowly coming to your senses. No longer were her breaths slow and rhythmic, their steadfast pattern replaced by one that was erratic and shallow. The once-steady thumping cadence of her heart as it beat in her chest was now quickened, all of which you could hear with your head having been nestled into her chest.
Craning your head to look up at her, you were greeted with the sight of Clarisse desperately trying to silently blink back tears and control her own breathing.
Hurriedly, you pushed yourself up off her chest and tugged the blankets off the two of you before sitting down on her lap. You took note of the way her hands had never left your waist, holding onto you as if she were drowning and you were the last life ring thrown out.
It wasn’t anything you and Clarisse hadn’t dealt with before. The nightmares had been a part of your lives as far back as you could remember, it just came with the territory of being a demigod. But they never got any easier as time went on.
She watched silently with eyes brimming with unshed tears, pleading wordlessly with you to do something, anything to make it all go away.
“Let’s switch, yeah? You can lay on me and completely cover me if you want, love,” you offered up, a melancholy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Wordlessly, she nodded and you slipped off her lap, laying back where she had just been moments ago.
Gently patting your chest, you motioned for her to rest her head on it, knowing that the rest of her body would soon follow, completely engulfing your form with hers. After she had positioned herself, her arms snaked around your waist again as she simply held you for a few moments, her face pressed into your chest as tears slowly soaked into your shirt.
One hand reached out to gently run along the length of her back, the motion meant to soothe. A few beats passed in silence before you spoke in a hushed whisper, the bedroom devoid of sound beyond the two of you breathing in tandem with each other.
“You hear that, love? That’s my heart,” you murmured softly, craning your neck to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “It’s beating, beating for you. Η καρδιά μου είναι η καρδιά σου.”
She didn’t respond beyond releasing another shaky sob into your chest and tightening her grip around your body, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t need her to talk just yet.
“You’re also η καρδιά μου, you know that, right? My heart, my wife, my love, my everything. And I’m yours. Entirely yours, and I”m not going anywhere.” You craned your neck again to press another kiss against the crown of her head, hand never stopping its path of running gently along the length of her back.
“I would go down to the depths of Tartarus for you. I would challenge Hades himself to a fight if it meant I had even a glimmer of a chance in getting you back.”
Never once did you try to rush her into talking or shushing her tears. You knew her better than you knew yourself, and giving her time to let everything out was the best thing you could do for her at the moment.
You were her safe space, the one woman that she could let her walls down around. She wasn’t Ares’ star daughter in your arms, she was just Clarisse. No expectations dangling over her head, just open arms and understanding.
After another few quiet moments, she finally spoke up in between half-choked sobs, whispering so quietly that her voice was nearly inaudible, “Silena… Manhattan… should have been able to save her,” before letting her face fall back down onto your chest, releasing another pained cry.
“She’s gone- a-and everyone else too- why me?”
Her question left you speechless, mouth partly opened in an attempt to come up with a reassuring response, but nothing seemed to come to mind immediately. It was rare for this to happen, as you normally had just the right words at the top of your tongue, weaving them as Arachne once wove tapestries on her loom.
“They’re all gone and- and- ”
“Shh, love…” you cut her off, gently pulling her head up to look her in the eyes, your other hand leaving her back to wipe the tears that were still streaming down her cheeks with the pad of your thumb. “Please, don’t go back into that self-sacrificial spiral. Talk to me, tell me what the dream was about?”
She only shook her head in response, unwilling to divulge details of the memory that had shattered your night of otherwise perfect proportions.
Deflating back on top of you, she whispered, “They’re all gone, and we’re one of the only ones remaining. It was like every time another one of them died, that small part of myself that I gave to them died as well.”
Her arms that were wrapped around your waist tightened for a moment before going limp along with the rest of her body as she lay atop you, her head pressed against your chest.
“Love…” you began softly as one of your hands found its way to her head and carded gently through her curls. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened. None of it was your fault. We didn’t ask to be born, to be thrown into this mess of a world and tossed around like pawns in the gods’ game of chess with our lives.”
“We didn’t ask for this life, and we were so young at the time. For fuck’s sake, we were only seventeen- we hadn’t even made out yet. We hadn’t graduated high school yet, there were so many things we couldn’t control.
“None of it was your fault, I promise you. You were so brave, and you did everything you could.” She stayed silent as you spoke, the only sounds coming from her were the soft, shaky breaths as she sniffled and burrowed her face further into your shirt.
“I can’t explain to you why so many things had to happen, that’s up to the Fates. I can’t give you the pieces of yourself back that you lost when we kept losing everyone,” you murmured whilst your hands kept on with their idle motions.
It shattered your heart to give her such an incomplete answer when you knew it was tearing her apart inside to live with it all, but there was nothing you could do beyond offer solace and comfort. “And for that, I am so, so sorry. But the one thing I can do is keep the piece you’ve granted me to keep, safe and sound.”
She only nodded in response, not trusting herself to speak in fear of her own vulnerability. Her tears soaked into your shirt, but you didn’t care. All that was important was that Clarisse was here, in your arms, and slowly calming down.
Clarisse knew just as well as you did that everyone had done the best they could with the circumstances given, and that the loss affected you just as deeply. But she didn’t dig into that, it would be a can of worms to open for another time, another sleepless night where your own troubles caught up with you after running from them for so long.
And so, the rest of the night stretched on into early morning, the two of you half-awake, seeking silent solace in each other until sunlight crept into the bedroom through the cracks of the curtains the next day.
The two of you might have been running from your trauma like runners to a marathon, but at least you were running hand-in-hand with matching strides.
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swiftispunk · 11 months
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come back, be here | joel miller x f!reader
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an in my hometown story | series music inspo
pairing: neighbour!dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!actor(ish)!reader (+ platonic!tommy and platonic!sarah)
summary: pre-outbreak/tlou. joel reckons with life in austin after you return to LA. very much set in 2002 bc it’s fun. mostly joel POV.
slight canon divergence (sarah’s mom is vaguely in the picture)
word count: 4k
rating: 18+ (minors dni)
warnings etc: smut, imo there is fluff here, angst, 10 year age gap, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation (m+f), alcohol use, mentions of food, gratuitous time hops, payphones. NO USE OF Y/N.
A/N: you guys: write domestic bliss! give them a happy ending! romantic reunion! me: *steve rogers voice* no i don't think i will long distance relationships are hard ya'll, especially undefined ones (sorry) this is a part of the IMH universe but if you wanted some depressing phone sex with pre-outbreak!joel, you could absolutely enjoy this as a standalone.
playlist standouts for this chapter are come back, be here - taylor swift and hey jane - spiritualized
Stumbled through the long goodbye One last kiss, then catch your flight Right when I was just about to fall I told myself, don't get attached But in my mind, I play it back Spinning faster than the plane that took you...
Joel tries not to call every day.
He knows you need your space, your time to thrive and work and live the life you chose, so far from home. 
Well, his home, not yours. Not anymore.
It’s usually every other day, more than that if you call with news. Not that there’s much of that; the play you'd been "starring in" had closed to the tune of some less-than-stellar reviews, you’d landed a couple regional commercials, and finally found yourself an agent that at least seemed to have your best interests at heart.
You'd called Joel to share every one of those moments with him. He’s the first person you call any time there’s something in your life worth sharing, it’s just that those instances are exceptionally rare, to say the least.
So Joel calls you mostly. In the evenings, if he’s not working late, midday if he has an hour for lunch. Once, after midnight when he’d awoken from a particularly vivid dream - one involving you in the dress you’d worn at your going-away party - he’d called you, and you’d whispered sweet nothings into the phone while Joel’d stroked himself desperately under the sheets in the desolate confines of his bedroom walls, the two of you getting off together in hushed whispers, miles apart. 
That was four months ago - and it had only happened the one time - but Joel clings to the memory like moss on a damp wall.
“Are you touchin’ yourself too?” he breathed into the phone held firmly against his ear, his fingers already wrapped around his cock, hard and leaking over his knuckles, leftover from the oh-my-god-why?-I’m-thirty-fucking-five-years-old wet dream he’d been shaken awake by.
“Yes,” you whispered back, velvet soft, sending Joel's imagination running wild at what you might have looked like, hand between your thighs, the phone tucked inside the delicate crook of your neck and pressed hotly to your ear.
“Good girl,” he hummed and he listened as you fought to contain a moan, probably fearful of one your roommates overhearing.
“Are you…are you hard for me, Joel?”
You sounded so unsure to Joel's ears, which was fair. You hadn't exactly established what the two of you were or would be after that crucial Christmas visit. So a salacious phone call in the middle of the night to tell you how he was "dreamin' about that pretty mouth of yours" probably (rightfully) caught you off guard.
Still, just the sound of your voice, playing along so willingly, had Joel groaning softly, the gravelly noise a hollow thing through the speaker of the shitty cell phone you'd been coerced into buying ("everyone here just has one, I guess").
“So fuckin’ hard for you, sweetheart. Wish you were here to feel it.”
“W-what would you do if I was?”
Fuck.
Joel picked up the pace of his strokes as he considered that, his voice growing ragged as he worked to answer your question. 
“Wanna get my hands on that pussy, baby. You all wet for me?”
You whimpered breathlessly and hummed a quiet, “Mhmm."
“How many fingers you got inside you?” he asked, focusing his grip towards the base of his cock, pausing his strokes and trying in vain perhaps to draw things out a bit, at least until he could hear your hushed response. He needed to know, needed to picture you playing with yourself on other end of the line, something that could help him feel like you were here with him, for real.
“J-just one.”
Joel threw his head back, squeezing his cock tighter and resuming his steady strokes at the image of you with a finger in your cunt, biting his lip hard when he thought of the way it would coat with your juices, how much he'd love to suck the sweet slick clean off your soaked digit.
You made him feel so fucking filthy. You made him feel like a man. He needed you here, damnit.
“Put another one.”
He wasn't sure at first if you obeyed, but then you both moaned quietly in unison, Joel pulling at his cock as you presumably added another finger. Joel could hear your breath catching in your throat, a delicious sound that made him wonder if you were curling your fingers inside yourself, like he'd have done if he were there.
"How's that feel?" he asked, voice strained.
"Mmmm, s'good, Joel," you sighed. The sound of you uttering his name in that contented, breathy hue had Joel losing his rhythm a bit - his motions now a fevered, frantic thing, too rushed. "Wish it was you, though."
You had no idea how much he wished the same thing.
"Me too, baby, me too, wanna get my mouth on you so bad." Breathless, crazed-sounding, he meant it. "Wanna taste you again."
A soft whine from you cut through the wire, making Joel's dick twitch in his palm, as he continued to pump himself with that same determined vigour.
"Remember the first time I sucked your dick?" you asked then and Joel's mouth fell open involuntarily, his hand once again freezing on his cock because he would have fucking come right then and there just at the thought of it.
It's exactly what he'd been dreaming about before he'd called you. You on your knees with your pretty dress under you, his forearms braced on the dresser he'd helped build, the way you'd looked so needy for it, like he'd been giving you the sweetest gift in the world. The way you'd looked up from under your lashes when you'd swirled your tongue around the tip.
"Think about it all the time, sweetheart," he managed to grunt softly. Truthfully.
He could never forget it.
Not that it could ever compare, but on the phone with you that night, conjuring up the memory, he flicked his thumb over the tip of his leaking cock, as though he could ever recreate the feeling of your tongue on him.
"Me too."
Joel's hips bucked up into his hand at that, another phantom memory playing at the edges of his mind - the one of you bouncing on his cock last Christmas, your shuddering form coming around him, his big hands on your back as he'd held you flush against him when you did, so he could properly feel all of it. All of you.
"You gettin' close, darlin'? Playin' with your clit?" Joel breathed into the phone, feeling his own release creeping up on him again as the reverie flashed behind his eyelids, clenched tightly shut with concentration. Trying to make sure you got there first.
"Fuck - yes," you hissed and your choked little gasps made the muscles in his guts tighten, right on the edge as the movements of his hand grew sloppier still.
But it wasn't enough. You were being so quiet.
"Let me hear you come, baby, just a little," he begged, voice wrecked, cock rigid and angry in his fist. “Let me hear those pretty sounds you make.”
It's what he missed the most, the desperate whines that had fallen from your lips when he'd had his mouth on you the last time; the prettiest, sexiest noises he'd ever heard.
Roommates be damned, if Joel was begging you for something, you were never going to deny him.
He listened as your breathing stuttered, picturing your fingers rubbing furious circles over your clit, until you let a high-pitched moan slip from you as you came.
That was all Joel needed to coax out his own climax, hot seed spilling over his knuckles - his last thought of you, bent over before him on a twin bed, that very first time.
That's his favourite call - or at least, it's the one that makes him the least miserable.
Of course, there'd also been the call that had come on New Year's Eve; he likes that one too. You'd made a point to call two hours early - your time, just to catch him right at midnight - his time.
"Happy New Year, Joel!" you'd screamed into the receiver, his face splitting into a genuine smile as he'd held the phone away from his face at the piercing sound of your voice hitting his ear drum.
"Happy New Year, sweetheart," he'd replied, heart bursting at the warmth in your tone, how thoughtful you'd been to consider the time difference. How you'd remembered him. "Bit early for you though, innit?"
"You better not be kissing anyone," you'd slurred, ignoring his question, already drunk - out somewhere, from what Joel could surmise.
"Not a chance," he'd assured you. He'd glanced over at Sarah, making sure she was still passed out on the couch beside him before going on,
"I'd kiss you if you were here, though."
He'd said it softly, so as not to wake her. Meanwhile, Dick Clark had quietly shined on the TV, casting blue and white light across Joel's dark living room as the big ball had touched down in Times Square.
"Me too," you'd said, and Joel could hear the truth in your voice. His chest had throbbed in time with the distant boom of fireworks outside his window, each one like a bomb going off in his gut. If you were home you'd hear them too, but through the phone, there's just Joel.
"Here's to a good year," Joel'd said, not an ounce of hope in the declaration, toasting to no one with the beer in his hand.
You'd just sighed, long and anguished.
'Cause in the beginning, in the days following that Christmas visit, there had been lots of days you'd called with tears in your voice, sobbing into the phone about long working hours, or some new rift with your roommates or - the calls he'd selfishly longed for - how much you missed him.
"I'm trying so hard, Joel," you'd cry, while he'd fight to stay composed, just listening patiently and offering comfort where he could.
"I know, baby, I know."
"Maybe I should just give up."
Yeah, you should. Come home. Be here.
"No, you can't, sweetheart," he'd say instead. "You just gotta keep goin'."
"I miss you so much," you'd sigh in that bleak, cracked, longing way, shattering Joel's heart into jagged shards every damn time.
"I miss you too, baby." Please come back. It's not too late.
Those calls don't come so much anymore, as you'd thrown yourself into your work, and time had pulled you further and further from the memory of your last visit to Austin.
Time.
Joel feels frozen in it, while it just keeps moving ahead for you.
The days he doesn’t call are boring and long, repetitive and lonely save for the time he gets with Sarah. He works the same jobs, eats the same food, drinks the same coffee. Feels the same anxious pang when you don’t call first and it has to be him, again. 
Sometimes he’ll go by your dad’s, but that’s less often now, ever since he and Tommy had finished up the renovations in the attic.
God, the attic job. That had proven to be an exceptionally awkward thing, considering it had come hot on the heels of the Inevitable Talk with your father. A talk that Joel had been expecting, but which had still turned out to be painfully uncomfortable nonetheless.
Although not necessarily what he’d imagined.
Your dad had shown up at his side door after dropping you at the airport. He hadn’t seemed angry, so Joel had led him in the door and offered him a beer, which your dad had accepted with a reverent, “Yeah.”
Yeah, Joel too.
Joel’d stared at the wood on the kitchen table, and like he couldn’t help himself, broke the silence before your dad could.
“How’d, uh - how’d she seem?”
Your dad’d sighed, taking a long sip of beer.
“Sad,” he’d said.
“Look - ”
But Joel’d been cut off by Sarah coming in the front door then, home right on time from soccer practice. Her eyes had widened as she’d assessed the scene, who Joel had been sitting across from.
“I’m…just gonna be in my room,” she’d muttered awkwardly.
“There’s mac and cheese on the stove," Joel'd told her.
Wasting no time, she'd snatched the entire pot off the hob and slinked quickly out of the room, shooting Joel this knowing glance on the way that seemed to say, good luck - sorry. And also - we'll talk later.
Your dad’s eyes had followed her out of the kitchen as she’d went.
“She’s a good kid,” he’d said.
“Yeah, she is."
"S'funny a thing, havin' kids..." your dad'd started.
Christ, here it comes.
"You wanna protect 'em," he'd continued, tone level but still managing to fill Joel with a healthy sense of dread. "But you also gotta trust 'em. And respect 'em enough to respect their decisions."
A beat.
"Even the wrong ones."
Joel'd cleared his throat, shifting in his seat uneasily.
"That what I am?" he'd asked. "The wrong decision?"
Your dad had shook his head.
"I wasn't talkin' about you."
That had Joel finally looking up from the table to stare at the man in confusion. What had he been suggesting then?
"She shouldn't be out there in California," your dad'd said with another shake of his head and a sip of his beer.
That had taken Joel aback momentarily.
"You don't think she can do it?" Joel'd asked, brows furrowing.
"No, she probably could. If she actually wanted to."
Joel'd just stared back at him, that same dumbfounded look on his face.
"She's determined," your dad had grumbled. "Too proud. She decided she wanted to go out there and do this and now she thinks she can't back out. I'm not sayin' she's not good. I'm just sayin' I don't think it's where her heart's at."
"So where's it at then?" Joel'd asked.
Your dad had just given Joel this knowing look.
You know where it is, dumbass.
"Right," Joel'd replied, around another mouthful of beer. Then, for the first time since he'd met your dad, Joel'd turned on his very best let-me-date-your-daughter Texan manners.
"Listen, sir, I wasn't tryna complicate anything here," he'd said. "The whole thing just - it got away from me."
That was something of an understatement.
"She said you tried to be responsible. What's'at mean?"
Joel'd taken another sip of beer, smiling in spite of himself at the thought of you trying to protect him.
"Guess it means I always knew where this was gonna go," Joel'd postulated. "She didn't wanna overthink things."
Joel'd bristled at the memory - "We don't have to overthink any of this, Joel" - so many months ago now, your arms wrapped around him from behind, face pressed into his back. Course, by then it had already been too late, Joel having already envisioned a whole new life for you after that first kiss on the deck - one where you never left, one where you stayed here with him, slotting into his life with ease. A cursed vision, one he'd known would never be.
How could he not have overthought things? Joel, unlike you, lived in the real world.
"That was your first mistake, buddy," your dad'd said with a shake of his head.
Didn't Joel know it. He'd nodded his agreement.
"You know somethin', Joel? I actually think you'd be real good for her. You're a good man - stable. And you got a lotta love for your kid."
Joel had waited for the inevitable "but" and your dad hadn't disappointed -
"But you gotta give her space now. If she wants to come back, she will. You understand?"
Yeah, he gets it.
Doesn't mean he's gonna listen.
So he doesn’t cross the street much these days.
He would lie and say he’s just been too busy with Sarah or Tommy or work but you’d know the truth if he ever bothered to tell you. 
He doesn’t go because it hurts. He doesn’t go because the driveway’s where he kissed you and your bedroom’s where his initials are carved into the dresser and the back deck’s where the whole damned ordeal began. 
The more time passes, the less he wants to think about any of it.
-
But then there's the call that comes today.
The droning of the buzz saw drowns out the sound of the phone ringing. It also drowns out Tommy's booming voice, calling Joel's name over and over.
"Joel!" he yells again, this time with a firm hand on Joel's shoulder where he works over the plywood, which finally gets the older Miller's attention.
"What?" Joel shouts back, glancing cautiously over his shoulder, voice rising over the metallic hum of the saw. But Tommy is giving him the signal to shut the thing off, phone in hand - which is what ultimately ends up holding Joel's attention.
He clicks off the saw, removing his protective goggles and repeating himself, quieter now - "What?"
"Phone's for you," Tommy says with a lop-sided grin. Easy enough to guess who's calling then.
"She called the damn work site?" Joel asks, surprised you'd managed to track them down. They're working a job up in Georgetown, some wealthy suburbanite paying big money for easy work.
Tommy just shrugs.
Joel snatches the phone from his brother and holds it up to his ear, with a gruff, "Hello?" before tuning into the crackling sound of music playing and glass clattering and voices chattering and you, loudly talking into the other end -
"Joel!" you say - almost shout. "Are you there, can you hear me? I'm at a payphone, the stupid cell phone died!"
He steps away from the work site, trying - on his end at least - to quiet some of the background noise.
"Yeah, yeah I can hear ya fine, are you okay?"
The midday calls are rare and your voice sounds so frantic - he can't help it; worry's the first place his mind goes.
"I got a job, Joel! I got an arc!" you say excitedly then, voice just barely rising over the clamorous bedlam behind you.
"You got a what, now?" Joel asks, sticking a finger in his one ear to hear you better.
"A three-episode arc on a TV show! Oh - shit - one sec - "
Some rustling on the other end as you disappear momentarily, and then a murmured, "Thanks" that sounds like you but far away, and then you're back with a, "You still there?"
Joel furrows his brows, trying to make sense of it all.
"Where're ya at right now?"
"I'm out celebrating!" you shriek. "Didn't you hear what I said?"
Not really, but -
"I - yeah I heard, three episodes, that's - that's amazing, sweetheart."
Then there's another voice cutting through the wire - male, drunk.
"Eyyyyy! Let me buy you a drink, baby girl! This is HUGE!"
Joel hears your responding giggle, along with the sound of fabric brushing against fabric (an embrace) and glass tapping glass (cheers).
"I'll be right there!" you tell the faceless voice.
"Whoz'at?" Joel grumbles, his grip on the phone tightening as he bites back the stupid, hot, festering jealousy suddenly brewing in his belly.
"Nobody - well, Adam - he works with my agent, they're throwing this like, brunch party thing for me."
Weird, because you've never mentioned him to Joel before.
She's not yours, idiot, he tells himself.
"Nice," is the best response he can come up with.
"Well, anyway, I just wanted you to be the first to know," you say then - your voice oozing devotion - but not enough to quell the twisted knife of envy digging bitterly in Joel's core.
"Seems like Adam already knew."
God-fucking-damnit.
Why'd he say that? Does he seriously think he's entitled to every morsel of information in your life? Over some kid you work with and that he doesn't even fucking know?
Apparently, yeah.
You're quiet for a moment and Joel would've wondered if the payphone had run out of minutes if not for the noisy bar din still echoing through the receiver.
"I meant the first person back home," you amend, and Joel kicks himself when he hears the tinge of hurt in your tone.
Joel clears his throat, instantly ashamed of the senseless reaction.
"Well, I - I'm glad you did, sweetheart," he says, trying his damndest to soften the edge in his voice.
"Okay - um, shit - it's asking me for more quarters, I'm all out. Can I call you tomorrow?"
"You can call me any time you want, darlin'."
"Bye, Joel."
"Bye - "
He's cut off as the line disconnects, out of time.
-
Sleep evades Joel that night.
Three episodes on a TV show. What would that mean? How long would that steal you from him? How many more months till you came home again?
He morosely ponders the thought with his head in his hands, hunched over where he sits on the edge of his bed, fingers dragging over the skin of his face as though he could scrape away the memory of the phone call like a pesky scab.
"Dad?"
Sarah's voices comes softly through his bedroom door, shaking him hastily out of his dreary reverie.
"You still up?" she asks, letting herself in the open door.
Joel shakes his head disapprovingly, offering her a soft smile.
"I should be askin' you that."
Should being the operative word. He should be attending to his daughter, not moping uselessly after you.
Instead, as ever, it's Sarah who's looking out for him, joining him on the edge of the bed and leaning into his side.
"You okay?" she asks, head on Joel's shoulder.
"Yeah," Joel mumbles, voice thick.
Keep it together, he tells himself. Sarah doesn't need to see you cry.
"Yeah, m'alright," he says, sounding anything but.
"Wow, well, I'm convinced," Sarah quips, wrapping her little arms around his waist and Joel can hear her rolling her eyes. "I know you talked to her today, she called here first; I told her where you guys were."
He should've known it was her who'd put you in touch with him. And man, the kid's too insightful for her own good. He's not sure where she gets that from, 'cause he doesn't think it's from him.
"I know it's sucky right now," she continues soothingly. "But it's gonna get better."
Joel clears his throat at the simple sentiment, trying to believe it.
"You think so?" he says, emotion coating his tone as he squeezes her in a little tighter against him.
"Yeah, I do," she responds, sitting up and away from him then. "Or, just a thought...you could be all romantic and actually go see her."
Joel's shaking his head before she can finish speaking - as if he hadn't already considered that dozens of times.
"And leave you here all alone? Come on."
They share a smirk but then Sarah shrugs.
"Just sayin'. I think you should do it."
His smile shifts to something more placating, willing her to understand how much more complicated things were than that.
"It's late, you should go to bed."
"Okay, but only if you do too."
"Deal."
-
He's dreaming again.
Of you, of course.
But it's not like the other times; you're not on your knees in front of him or sitting on his cock or bent over the twin bed under a canopy of glow-in-the-dark stars.
No, this time, you're locked in a tight embrace on the side of the interstate, as though you'd met him halfway somewhere at a lonely truck stop, hands interlocked behind his neck, while his grip your waist tightly. He's breathing in your scent, committing it to memory because he knows he'll have to leave again soon - always losing you, always saying goodbye.
Except...no. This time, there's something new. Dread is replaced by a sense of permanence as the truck stop melts away and there you both are again, safe in your driveway, bodies still entwined but never breaking. No incessant honking forcing you apart, no one-way flight waiting to take you away.
It doesn't have to end.
He jolts awake, the stand-up fan beside his bed cooling his clammy skin and making him shiver involuntarily.
Fuck it, he decides then.
He grabs the phone off the nightstand and makes a call.
Please be awake, please be awake, please be awake -
"'Lo?" Tommy's voice comes through the other end, gooey with sleep and laced with mild concern. Joel checks the time on his alarm clock - 2 a.m.
"Tommy, do I ask you for anything, ever?"
"Uh...no?"
Stupid, stupid, stupid, this is the stupidest thing you've ever fucking done -
"Can you watch Sarah for a few days?"
"Uh...why?"
"I'm goin' to California."
-
You took a call then you ran all day That clock goin' 110 I never said I'd get you back again Said "I ain't got time to make no mistakes" "Ain't got time to waste my brakes"
END.
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sunsents · 11 months
Text
neteyam sully - drunken confessions
I saw a fic where yn gets drunk and confesses to Neteyam, but I truly have no idea whose it was nor was I able to find it. For that, I apologize. If you're that author, or if anyone knows who that is author is please tag them in the comments so that I can give the right credits.
➵ summary: Fed up with your platonic feelings towards Neteyam Sully, you decide to let loose during a festival. Never would you have guessed your drunken state would decide to take matters into her own hands and deal with your feelings personally.
➵ pairing: (aged!up)neteyam x fem!reader(no use of y/n)
➵ word count: 3.8k
➵ warnings: alcohol consumption, one kiss, fluff
DON’T REPOST MY WORK
"Who wants another kiss!"
Yelling to no one in particular, you slur your words together as your drink sloshes in the wooden cup - darn whoever let you have it in the first place. When you bring the bowl to your lips, you frown. "Who..." You blink, though it’s obscenely uncoordinated. "Who drank my drink?"
Neteyam doesn't know what's worse; the fact that you think someone would dare to drink out of your cup, or that you have no idea it was you who sabotaged the evening by spilling the contents of your drink.
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"Bro, you have got to try this!"
Lo'ak holds two bowls filled with something - the fumes hit your nose and your face pinches in disgust. It's pungent and positively putrid—no sane Na’vi would look at the liquid and immediately think ‘I’m going to put this in my mouth.’ 
You survey the boy with questioning eyes, then scan the clearing. 
Tsireya was finally of age and appointed as Tsahik, which prompted a lively celebration filled generously with roaring music, food, and alcohol. Ronal, the previous clan tsahik, had decided to leave her place for the younger woman to spend her days enjoying the fruits of domestic bliss with her elder husband, Tonowari. 
You're delighted, of course. As is anyone in the clan. Tsireya had been your closest friend since birth when she pulled on your kuru and you pulled on hers - grabby hands aching to get ahold of anything and possibly everything as a youngling.
Lo'ak is beaming as he looks at you, it's almost blinding. "Eh, why not." you relent, taking the bowl from his hand.
The boisterous atmosphere is accompanied by a majestic fire that lights up the eclipse sky. People are dancing and having fun in the golden glow of it all - everything is so warm that you're feeling heaps more open-minded than at any other time. 
Lo'ak smirks at you before downing his drink in one gulp. Impressed, you follow suit. The liquid burns your throat and you can't help but cough, had you bitten off more than you could chew?
You were of age, no one would be there to chastise you, a grown woman, for drinking. The only worry that plagued your mind was embarassing yourself.
Whether you liked it or not, Neteyam Sully would always be there to catch you in your most embarassing moments to poke fun. This time around would surely be nothing different. 
You huff, not allowing him to consume your thoughts. No, you were going to enjoy yourself tonight and celebrate your best friend's success.
Determined, you march up to the large table where drinks are being presented. "Lo'ak," you call out, firm. "I bet I can outdrink your scrawny ass."
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You did outdrink Lo'ak. Then Tikanu, and Rotxo. Perhaps Aonung was also involved at some point, and then some.
You can’t think straight when you're drunk off of your teal-blue ass and swaying gently to the music. It's consuming and frankly, you don't have the decorum to care about the quality of your moves. It's a sway of hips, a clash of limbs - the closing of your eyes and the humming of your throat. Other people are no better, you're sure. Lo'ak passed out hours ago, then got found by a very angry Tsireya. The man was pure pleas and apologies, even mushier when drunk.
"____?"
The deep treble of his voice replaces the music you feel deep in your bones. "Neteyam!"
You giggle obscenely and fuck, sober you is going to be so embarrassed tomorrow. But drunk you is a piece of shit - a force of Eywa that cannot be reckoned with. With your hands in the air, you lunge into Neteyam's arms. He catches you with an oomph. 
"What-" he clears his throat. "Are you drunk?" 
You frown as you clumsily part from him. "No, I'm ____. “
As he waits for your next drunken action, you manage to think of a joke rather than say it. It’s funny enough to make you laugh loudly, but not so much that you verbally announce it to the man before you. 
Neteyam merely looks at you with amusement.
"Sorry, Made a joke..." you mumble with a giggle. "T'was funny."
He waits expectantly.
You blink at him. "Pretty..."
He chuckles lowly and crosses his arms on his chest. “I think we should get you home, hm?”
In your hazed mind, Neteyam has a halo around him. With feathers in his hair, fresh tattoos on his smooth skin, and a strong frame covered in accessories, he's glowing like the morning sun. You shout excitedly, feeling all too happy for him. "I'm gonna kiss you, I think."
At least you had the decency to warn the poor man before you grab his cheeks with wide palms and smash your lips onto his. It's vulgar and wet, you feel him freeze in your hold. You swear you hear him groan, melting forward before he quickly snaps back.
"Oh-kay, you're definitely drunk. Come one, up up, we're taking you home." He’s about to lift you with an arm behind your knees and the small of your back before you push his chest. 
"No!" You whine, then turn around all too suddenly. Your vision scrambles to catch up with the sudden change. "Who wants another kiss!"
When a huddle of men perk up in interest - all drunk and ravenous, Neteyam lets out a growl that surprises himself. He takes a deep breath, counts to ten, then breathes out.
Ketu'ney, a clan warrior known for his rich plays in hunting parties steps forward. "I would," he smirks, all too proud.
"Oh! Me too, me too!" Kiri, drunk and bouncing on the soles of her feet, comes forward. 
"Everyone gets a kiss!" You declare happily.
"Oh no you don't."
Neteyam grabs you by the hips and slings you over his shoulder like a sack. "We're going to your kelku, and you're putting your ass to bed."
If you were any less drunk, you would be embarrassed by the position he has you in. But you're not, dramatically waving to your friend as a parting gesture. They wave back just as enthusiastically, a little confused but spirited nonetheless.
You feel the buzz of Neteyam's chuckle on your thighs; he's got them pressed to his chest so you don't slide down. Slung over his shoulder, you decide to enjoy the view of his back rather than complain. "Nice," you smirk, peering down further.
"Are you looking at my ass, ____?" Neteyam asks, entirely amused.
"No, it's looking at me."
Neteyam barks out a laugh - it bubbles from his chest and rasps out of his throat. Your heart flutters just a little, he had such an attractive laugh. His face was entirely his mother, and so was his determination, strong mind, and free spirit. Yet he also had the stubbornness and the laugh of his father. You knew it would be a combination that would cause your downfall.
You are falling, you realize. Neteyam has deposited you on your nest like some weight he needs to take care of. You groggily look around and realize you're in your kelku. 
Inhaling deeply, you let out a huff of air with lidded eyes. "Can I go to sleep now, please and thank you,"
Neteyam sits down next to you with a soft hand on your shoulder. Through your hazed view, you realize he's smiling. "Alright sweet girl, let's sleep this off."
You nod, looking around for no particular reason. The kelku feels all the more warm and homely with Neteyam in it, or perhaps the alcohol in your system pushes you to entertain a false domestic fantasy with the only man you've ever pined after.
He smooths down your hair gently, "If you feel like puking, just tap my shoulder." He gets up and grabs an old wooden bin, then sets it beside the nest. "Water..." he mutters to himself.
You lazily watch as he moves around the room in search of something. With narrowed eyes, he comes back with a bowl of water. 
You reach out, (way too off in your aim, Neteyam has to guide your hand) and slowly gulp the liquid down before collapsing. "Feel so bad...ugh," you drawl off, smacking your lips as sleep dances around your lips. "I wanna go swim, I think."
You feel him settle beside you in the nest. His arm reaches back and pulls you into his warmth. As he traces a plethora of shapes on your skin, the urge to close your eyes becomes undeniable. "Just go to sleep ___, you'll feel better in the morning."
"No," you whine, fighting for consciousness, "Wanna...fine."
Promptly closing your eyes, you turn the other way and huff into the silence.
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When sunlight invades through the flap of your kelku, you have the audacity to mumble a 'fuck off'. 
Sharp pain shoots through your spine and lingers in your head. The intensity of it throbs your scalp and muffles your ears. Groaning, you try to get a grasp of why the fuck you feel like dying.
Lo'ak, alcohol, Neteyam. 
Slowly but surely, the events come back and you regret welcoming them into your consciousness. You frantically look around, eyes landing on Neteyam across the marui, dicing fruit and mincing some kind of herb. His ears flicker, golden eyes darting to your face. "Good morning to you too," he smiles, sitting comfortably on the back of his heels, his strong thighs supporting his weight and looking entirely like his father.
You're hot - the realization sinks your heart until it hits rock bottom. Embarrassment floods through you like a tidal wave and oh Eywa - you want nothing more than to curve into yourself until you become a small pebble and get lost in the ocean. 
You had thrown yourself at him like some desperate fool, which forced him to take responsibility for your stupid, drunk self—Eywa knows what embarassing secrets you told him. You remember the major events - being offered drinks, challenging unlucky bystanders, dancing, and trying to kiss anything and anyone. The rest and the in-betweens are mind-boggling blurs because your headache won't let you think.
"Morning," you croak, then reach for the bowl of water on the side of your nest. The cold liquid tastes like gold running down your throat - when had water ever tasted this good? You moan involuntarily, gulping it down like a quenched woman left in the dune for days. The liquid dribbles down your chin and you're far too thirsty to care. 
When you put the bowl down, you're even more embarrassed than before by the look Neteyam gives you. He grins, "How are you feeling, more water?"
You're a little shy now, smiling and looking away. "No, thank you," you murmur, folding your hands on your lap primly. The properness of the action almost makes you laugh—it was only yesterday you were going around kissing people, throwing yourself onto Neteyam, and wreaking havoc across the village. It's almost humbling; you have no idea how to bounce back from the hole you've buried yourself in. Neteyam is Toruk Makto's son, and lest the sky people hadn’t disturbed the peace, he would be Olo'Eyktan of Omaticaya. His status is humbling enough that you fight the urge to bow your head down and apologize for the inconvenience. 
But you don't. Not when you've known him for seven years (more of admired him from a distance, with the occasional small talk because of obligation - on his part, you were friends with half his family, after all) and saw each other enough to be called acquaintances. Though, you would always be Lo'ak's friend who encourages dumb decisions, Tsireya's other close friend besides Rotxo and Pewli, or Kiri's weaving partner. Nothing more, nothing less. 
"Ma ___?" he addresses, and it takes too much of you to control your flushed state. 
"Oh," you make a surprised noise, "Sorry, my head hurts."
He gathers his trinkets and squats next to your nest, "Here."
"What is it?" you tilt your head, nostrils flaring. "Smells weird."
"It's medicine for your hangover," he quips, getting impatient.
You scrunch your face in disgust, "No way I'm drinking that, it smells like Ilu waste."
"Will you just drink it," he sighs, shoving the cup to your face.
You're quick to turn away, mussed morning hair flying with your movement. "No,"
"Stop being so stubborn," - you turn your head to the other side when he makes an effort to follow your lips with the cup. "You're worse than Tuk," he grumbles, fighting for your submission. With a final huff, he grabs your face, smushes your cheeks together, and drains the liquid down the opening your puffed lips prompted. It seems practiced, this action; you can only guess how persistently Tuk fights against medicine she doesn't particularly enjoy. You choke, having no choice but to swallow the horrible abomination. 
"You're like a baby," he grunts, "that wasn't so bad, now was it?"
"It was," you croak. "Blech,"
Neteyam chuckles all the same, then stands up to wash the used cups and bowls. Guilt squeezes your chest, not only because he was washing your dishes and taking care of you, but because you were enjoying it. You were having a glimpse of what life could be with Neteyam - waking up to him making you breakfast, taking care of you when you make idiotic decisions, watching him carry out household tasks like it's the most natural thing. 
"Neteyam," you call out. "Please, you don't have to do that.". 
He makes no indication of stopping his tidying anytime soon - tidying your kelku, like he also lived here and had to have it uncluttered. You slowly get up, conscious of your headache that seems to be dulling away, then slowly patter your way to him. Ear tips catching fire, you put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Please."
He stops his cleaning and crosses his arms. "This place is a mess, ____. "
"I wasn't expecting guests," you grumble, putting away the utensils in their appointed baskets. "Look, I want to apologize for yesterday."
"It's- it's fine. Really," he shakes his head.
"No, it isn't fine. I made a huge fool of myself - Eywa, I'm so embarrassed." you groan. "You even took care of me which is just so nice. You really didn't have to,"
He smirks, "I couldn't let you roam around drunk, kissing everyone on sight."
With a painful groan, you hide your face between your palms. It seems Neteyam was determined to rub salt in your wound.
"You're fine, ____. " he drawls only a little to emphasize that you really were fine, because he made sure you were, crossing his arms and facing you fully. "Everyone else was just as drunk, Kiri could barely hold her head up."
You nod, guilt still lingering behind your shoulder, and peering at Neteyam. In your checklist of 'things to apologize for', the next line was going to be a dreadful experience - located right next to apologize to anyone else you possibly might have kissed. Taking a deep breath, the words. "I'm sorry I kissed you," is blurted in one breath. 
You watch Neteyam's ear twitch, and his eyes widen. With a soft chuckle, he takes his sweet time coming up with a response. Your heart pounds in your chest and you hope he can't hear it as well - which was doubtful since it was beating for him. His laugh sinks the soles of your feet down into the marui floor, readying to plummet you down when he eventually rejects you and tells you it was like kissing his baby sister's weird friend. Because while you had your fair share of friends, Neteyam always caught you at your worst. 
You have to shake your head for the images to stop playing; when you were talking to Kiri, who was blocked out of view by a huge palm tree and thus, made you appear as though you were having casual conversation with yourself - Neteyam and Lo'ak were passing by, and were kind enough to ignore you out of pity, (Lo'ak laughed about it for days until his mother had to intervene). Or when horrid-smelling seaweed got stuck to your Iknimaya outfit during the ceremony, which caused the stench to stick to your skin during the festival. When Neteyam approached you to celebrate your adulthood, he was holding his nose with watery eyes. 
Worst of all, whenever he was around, you became this clumsy, uncoordinated mess. You were either breaking something, tripping on something, or saying something you shouldn't be saying. 
Thankfully, Neteyam's voice seems to stop the images. "You do not have to apologize for that," he winces, narrowing his eyes while averting his gaze.
You gulp, "Oh, okay." your voice sounds unlike your own. "Why?"
"You were drunk and unconscious of your actions," he says firmly.
"But I overstepped my boundaries," you continue, fighting your case.
Neteyam gives you a look that you can't decipher, and it eats away at your insides. He's been giving you these looks for years now, settling into your soul and engraving it so whenever you close your eyes, you could see his expression.
"You, kissing me, is a boundary I'm willing to overstep. Why can't you realize that?"
You gawk at him. His words don't settle in for another five seconds, but when the implications start rushing in, your heart squeezes with the most welcomed pain. "W-what?"
Netetam huffs a frustrated breath, then pinches the bridge of his nose. With squeezed eyes, he sits on his hunches. He says your full name, and you have no choice but to kneel down and sit in front of him as well. 
"I have been trying to court you for 3 years now but you're one difficult woman to impress." 
You would argue that the sound you let out is inhumane. You choke on your breath. "Excuse me?" you try to process his words. "What- I had no idea!"
"No idea? ____, why the hell would I look after your drunk ass if I wasn't the slightest bit interested. I slept here, I made you breakfast, and I'm tidying your home! All to prove that I can provide for you." Neteyam sighs, and you lower your ears at the unfamiliar ‘hell’ word. He seems frustrated and you can only hope it isn't at you. 
He notices your demeanor and softens, gently grabbing your hand. "My love, I weaved you gifts, I always offered you the biggest plays I caught, I invited you to eat with my family several times, and I even got Tonowari's approval!"
While what Neteyam says is inherently true, it holds some falsehood - and this frustrates you. He can't put the blame on you entirely, and you realize that his warrior ego is far too big for him to admit his attempts were simply not enough. 
"No," you say lowly. "The gifts you weaved me always had colors of cordiality on them. You offered my entire family food. And you didn't invite me to eat with your family, Lo'ak, Kiri and Tuk did." You count as you list them on your finger.
Neteyam flushes a deep color that compliments his cheeks beautifully, and for a moment you forget the entirety of the conversation. "I asked my siblings to invite you since you were closer to them - I was scared you would refuse if I asked. And whatever do you mean, cordial colors?"
"You know, the colors that indicate a platonic friendship."
He gawks at you. "I don't know of this!"
"Neteyam, you've been in our clan for years, surely, you've heard it somewhere."
"No!" he gets a little panicked. "I just thought you liked those colors, you always wear them."
"Because these were given to me by my friends!" you touch your jewelry for added effect.
Neteyam falls back from his position clumsily, holding his forehead. The view makes you soften entirely - you never thought you'd see Neteyam, always so calm, calculated, and graceful, panicking and awkward like this. He seems like he isn't in control of his actions and feelings which is evidently making him frustrated even more.
You crawl towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder soothingly. He flinches slightly at the touch, and you can see his nape starting to flush a deep color. His body is hot beneath your fingertips, and you can almost feel it thrumming. "Eywa, I'm such a failure. I asked everyone how to court you properly and they gave me these...answers. And I did all of them. All of them-  you didn't even blink in my direction - you,"
He looks at you, eyes blown wide. "You turn me into this clumsy, awkward fool. I hate not being in control," 
“Aww,” you coo, heart soaring. Taking a deep breath, you try to calm down to provide him some sort of comfort. "Neteyam, I like you too. I've liked you ever since you and your family came seeking uturu."
He gasps, "That long? Why didn't you ever-"
"For the same reasons you haven't." you sigh. "I'm always making a fool of myself whenever you're around. Take last night for example,"
Neteyam smiles fondly. "I thought you were adorable, clinging onto me, checking my ass out."
You groan, hitting his arm softly. "I thought you liked me. You don't tease the one you like,"
Neteyam grabs your hand before you can retract it. He pulls you forward until you're almost kissing him. Almost. "Oh, but I think you do," he smirks. 
Face hot, tail twitching, you suck in a breath. 
"So, you like me, and I know I love you,"
You gasp, not breaking eye contact. 
"We wasted all those years for nothing." he huffs, "I could have had you much sooner than this and saved us all the trouble. I shouldn't have asked my dad and Lo'ak for courting advice, they're helpless."
You giggle, putting a hand on his chest. The joy you're feeling is inexplicable, you feel it lingering down to your feet and floating you. His hand covers yours, squeezing it softly. "Yeah, you probably shouldn't have."
"Aren't you demanding," he grins, gaze fluttering down to your lips. "I will court you the right way from now on,"
"You should ask Rotxo," 
He furrows his forehead, "Rotxo? You're joking!"
You swat at his arm with your free hand. "No, I'm not. Rotxo is more romantic than all of you combined. Don't you see how flustered Kiri gets whenever he's around? The man knows what he's doing."
"Are you purposefully trying to make me jealous right now?" Neteyam grumbles, catching your free hand. He presses it to his heart, and you hope this will become a practiced gesture as well. "Don't talk about other men this close to my lips, yawne."
You roll your eyes, though your blush is undeniable. "Jealous already?"
"Always," Neteyam whispers, pressing your palm on his heart. The breath he lets out hits your lips.
"Neteyam, kiss me before I lose my mind."
And he does, softly until it's no longer the lingering touch of his plush lips but the two of you, grinning from ear to ear, unable to kiss due to your uncontrollable smiles. 
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kryptonitejelly · 2 years
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Flyboy (Epilogue) | Jake Seresin x Reader  Top Gun: Maverick - Jake Seresin x Reader  Genre: romance; fluff; angst; best friends to lovers Warnings: general hangman being hangman; sexual tension; general cursing; will contain mentions of a break up / previous relationship; general use of pet names; fem!reader; pining; general naval / flying inaccuracies; geographical inaccuracies. Length: Mini-series, chaptered - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Epilogue
Summary: Jake gets called back to TOPGUN the same time you’ve been granted a sabbatical from work. He invites you, his purely platonic best friend of years, to live with him for 6 months and you accept. Just two best friends kicking it back for 6 months in San Diego, Fightertown USA, right?
A/N: Thank you everyone for your continued love and support towards Flyboy. This was my first foray into a mini-series, and I have absolutely loved it. I have been so heartened by the feedback. Thank you all for your comments and reblogs / tags, I have absolutely loved reading them (especially those of you who quote - take my heart will you?)
As I’ve said before, I’m not done with the Flyboy Universe, because I love it too much to let it go (yet), so check out the Flyboy Masterlist for more one-shots and blurbs - both already there, and coming soon <3 (people who have sent in Flyboy requests - yes, they are received and will be worked on!) From the bottom of my heart, I love you all sm!
Flyboy | Mini-Series Masterlist
Flyboy - Epilogue
<< PART 6
Approximately 3.5k words
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It takes your phone ringing for a good three seconds before you jolt awake, hands flapping around your mattress in the dark, finally to connect with it’s smooth metal casing. You squint blearily at the device flashing with a picture of Jake staring back at you, finger immediately wiping across the bottom of the screen to answer.
“Hey,” Jake’s voice fills the quiet of your room, as his face, in real time, flickers onto the screen. You fall back onto your pillow, hand reaching out simultaneously to flick on the lamp by your bed.
A gentle, warm light floods the room, and your face, now illuminated by light fills the small dark square on the bottom of the screen.
“Hi,” you mumble, while bringing a hand up to rub the sleep from your eyes, “what time is it there?” You blink a couple of times, letting your mind grind to a wake as you notice the presence of natural sunlight illuminating the wall behind him. Jake is in his flight suit, the green unzipped mid way down his chest to reveal a black shirt beneath.
“You know I can’t tell you that,” Jake grins, and you roll your eyes lightly to the sky with a huff.
“Well you’re not anywhere on this side of the ocean that’s for sure,” you grumble, and Jake laughs. You take him in, his eyes crinkling with amusement and it brings a smile to your own face.
You had both left San Diego six weeks ago after a tearful goodbye (more on your part than on the rest who had long gotten used to coming, going and having to say goodbye), with promises to reunite with the group during Christmas and Fanboy promptly setting up a group chat, that had proved to be way more active than any other you had, with all of you in it.
Jake had wrangled a week off, in between flying out from San Diego and back to his squadron and had followed you back to New York for the week. You weren’t due back at work for another two, so the week with Jake, both of you completely free, had been spent comfortably in a cloud of domestic bliss. Lazy mornings, runs in the park, coffee, museums, sex over every inch of your apartment, shopping, long boozy lunches, drinks after dinner, and evening stroll - it has been the perfect week.
It was during the last week at TOPGUN, that Jake had been informed that in a week upon return, he was scheduled to embark on a mission with his squadron. He had assured you that this one would be short, five to seven weeks tops, but as per usual practice with all his missions - something you were used to by now after all the years he had spent with the Navy - Jake couldn’t tell you more, which included the exact date of his return, and the where he was headed.
It had caused you to sigh out loud in an exaggerated fashion, telling him, in what admittedly was an extremely dramatic manner, that it was just astounding how you were going to be his wife, but couldn’t know his whereabouts. It had been the first time you had referred to yourself using the term “wife”, and it had made Jake’s eyes flash with a glint you had never seen before, only for him to hoist you up onto the island in your kitchen, taking you then and there, quick, dirty, desperate and with a guttural growl.
“I take it you miss me?” Jake teases, as he watches you in the screen of his phone, lying back, hair fanning out against your pillow, features soft with sleepiness. Your shift slightly, and he catches sight his tshirt on you, covering your body.
“Not in the slightest Seresin” you retort, scrunching your nose. You did miss him, it had been six weeks since he had left New York. You had kissed him on the sidewalk below your apartment, before putting him into a cab headed for the airport. It had never been easy, each time Jake left you, but this time, after a full 6 months of being by his side, and newly engaged, it had been harder. You hadn’t shed any tears, but the feeling of your heart sinking in your chest, of a piece of you being taken away, was something you felt more acutely than any time before.
“So,” he pauses for effect before continuing, “why are you wearing my shirt?” He asks, and you shimmy your body downwards so that the covers are up to your neck, attempting to hide the article of clothing from view of the camera.
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” You say, biting back a smile, your eyes now slightly wider, brain more awake than it was a few seconds ago.
“I can still see the top of the shirt you know,” Jake muses, as he eyes the shoulders of the tshirt which are still peeking out from beneath the covers. The picture of your face cuts away, and Jake is met with a view of the ceiling, as you drop the phone onto the bed. He hears shifting, rustling of sheets, before the video fumbles back to you. Jake notices this time that your shoulders are bare, covers pulled up to under your arms. He takes in the coy, but smug smile on your lips, notes the necklace he had given you a few months ago glint in the faint light illuminating your room, and he groans loudly, hanging his head for a moment, offering you a view of the crown of blonde hair.
“Like I said,” you begin, as Jake brings his head up to look at you again through the screen, “not wearing your shirt.”
“You’ll be the fucking death of me,” he growls, leaning back against the wall and you laugh, bringing your palm up to blow a kiss at the camera. It only makes him sigh loudly, before saying “you’re giving me blue fucking balls baby.”
You hear a groan in the background, and the shout of “really, again Seresin?” from one of his squadron, and it makes you giggle. You identify the voice as Ryan “Blaze” Miller; a voice you had gotten used to hearing over the years of video calls with Jake. You see Jake’s gaze dart from the screen to behind his phone as he shouts back to Blaze, smug grin on his face.
“Can’t blame me when my girl is this gorgeous.”
You hear Blaze swear loudly in the background and you shout out a greeting. You get a shout of response back from Blaze, with a tone kinder than he had used on Jake, a second later.
“They approved my request yesterday,” you change the subject, “well unofficially anyway, they still have to send over official documentation.”
“Yeah?” He hums, slightly distracted, Jake’s eyes flickering occasionally from the front camera of his phone to your bare shoulders. He wasn’t joking about the blue balls - it had been six weeks, six not being able to touch you, six missing you, six away from you, but more importantly, six wishing he was back by your side.
You flip onto your side, cheek now against the pillow, propping up the phone against the empty pillow on what had become Jake’s side of the bed, covers still securely wrapped around your body.
“Three weeks of remote working a month, with a week back in New York, or more if need be.”
“I think that’s the best we are going to get,” Jake says, his gaze refocusing on your face. You had both decided that you would submit your ask, to be based remotely, and mainly out of California for as much time as you could, because of Jake’s current posting with the Navy, but shuttling back and forth when necessary. It was going to be tiring, shuttling back and forth, but it was, as you had decided collectively, the best solution for now; to be re-assessed and tweaked as necessary going forward. As much as he hated the week in New York that you would have to spend in each month, he knew that it would not get any better than this - you being allowed to work remotely for three weeks in a month. Besides, a week each month was, as Jake was well aware, a small ask from him, when he was the one at risk of being deployed at the drop of a hat, for weeks or even months each time.
“Think so,” you nod your head, the movement making the sheets rustle, “besides,” you say lightly, “it’ll give me the option to head back to New York when you’re away, gives me less reason to miss you.”
Jake draws an affronted look onto his face, and he flies a hand to his chest, in pretend shock. Pretend, because he understood where you were coming from, being engaged to, much less be married to a Naval Aviator was always hard, you keeping busy, would occupy your time that would have otherwise be spent alone.
“That’s twice in a day now darlin,” he refers to you saying that you hadn’t missed him, although both Jake and you know better.
“Best to keep you on your toes,” you wink at him, and raise a hand to push strands of hair back and away from your face. Jake sees a flash of the engagement ring that never left your finger, and he feels his heart swell, a mixture of bliss, content, pride and possessiveness.
“I’ve always missed you when I’m away,” he admits, the words coming out of the blue, his voice just slightly quieter - not for fear of being overheard, but from sincerity and emotion - and the words “I’ve always” makes your heart thump a little faster in your chest.
“I’ve always missed you too.” You return, and are rewarded with the most jubilant smile that breaks across his features.
-
“You’re leaving me,” the voice is accusatory, and you look up from the tablet in your hand at Annie, who is seated comfortably in your office chair, swivelling gently from side to side in a gentle motion.
The official approval for your request had come in an hour ago, three days after you had informed Jake of it, and you had called Annie to let her know. Her reaction had been strangely calm, but the door to your office had been thrown open forty minutes later to reveal Annie wailing at you loudly from the threshold before she stalked her way over, chasing you out of your office chair, only to promptly throw herself down.
“I’m not leaving you,” you turn your attention back to the tablet, flipping through the document on screen with a swipe of your finger, “I’ll just be working less from here.” You gesture blindly around the office.
“Who would I ever have my afternoon coffees with?” She asks you as she shuffles your chair forward, leaning her elbows on the surface of your desk. “Who would I ever grab an after work drink with?”
“We can do all those on the weeks I’m here,” you say with an amused scoff, as you slide the tablet onto the table, leaning back in the chair you are seated on.
“It’s not the same,” she sighs, loudly as she props her chin up on the back of her hand, before deciding to lean forward a few inches, mischief on her features, “besides, wouldn’t you say I make better company that your fiancé?”
“You wish,” your retort is immediate. You might have teased Jake continually, but one thing you had always been, and would always be, would be quick to defend him and uphold his virtues in front of persons who were not him, or family.
“It bodes well for our marriage that you think I’m good company,” the voice and deep chuckle hits your ears, and you twist around immediately, head snapping back towards the door where you find Jake leaning casually against the frame of the door, a large black duffle by his feet, which Annie had left open, Jane your assistant, standing behind him, her face visible just over his shoulder, a wide grin on her face.
“You baited me,” your head snaps back to Annie for a brief moment, before you crane your neck to focus on Jane who merely raises her hand at you in a thumbs up; it was clear from the shit eating grins both women had on their face, that they were both in on it.
“Aren’t you glad we did?” Annie’s words swirl around your brain as you let yourself take Jake in, arms crossed loosely over his chest, cutting an effortless figure in an ensemble of a white, fitted long sleeve polo and dark jeans. His hair is slightly longer than when he had left, and his jaw, unlike on the video call the other night, now slightly scruffy. You find yourself thinking that you could get used to surprises like this as your heartbeat quickens, and excitement courses through your veins.
“She is,” Jake answers for you, as he notices your gaze float from his face, to his arms, and then legs, before going back up to meet his gaze. He takes the opportunity to push himself off from his perch, crossing the distance to you in a few easy steps. He stops in front of you, one of his hands sliding onto the back of the chair you are sitting on, and his other hand on the chair beside you. Jake’s eyes twinkle as you look up.
“Hi,” he says, body crouching down, his lips connecting yours in an eager kiss hello, which you meet. Jake kisses you for a moment longer than appropriate, but you let him, because god, seeing him in the flesh made you realise just how much you had missed him.
“You guys make me sick,” is what Annie says, affectionately, as Jake pulls away to rest his forehead against yours for a second. His eyes lock with yours, and you see emotion - lust, longing and contentment and joy, swirling in his greens before he pulls away to grin at Annie.
“We aim to please,” he says, voice deadpan, as he slides his hand onto your shoulder. You reach up with your opposite hand to grip his fingers in yours.
“I would ask if you would both like to join me and Charles for dinner,” she says, her eyes darting towards your hand, and your head which is now resting back against Jake’s abdomen, “but something tells me you would both like to be left alone tonight.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Jake says with a wink to Annie.
“Tomorrow night?” You ask Annie who nods, before you tilt your head backwards and up to look at Jake, the top of your head shifting against his midsection, silently asking if he would still be here tomorrow night.
“Works for me,” he looks down at you, “I’ll be here four days.” Jake answers your question without you needing to ask.
-
“Bye Jane, see you tomorrow,” you call out as you exit, waving goodbye to your assistant, Jake’s fingers laced with yours.
“Bye Jane,” Jake winks at your assistant, turning on the charm and shooting her the widest smile, and you swear you hear her squeal.
“Don’t give her a heart attack,” you tug on his hand, muttering under your breath much to Jake’s amusement, “I like her.”
The lift arrives with a ding and the door opens to reveal Lexi and Dan, a pair you hadn’t expected to see, standing towards a side of the lift car. You expect Jake to tense, but he doesn’t, merely squeezing your fingers in his as you both step in. The Jake of a few months ago might have tensed, but the Jake of today - the Jake that knew you were squarely and firmly his didn’t have to.
“Hi!” Lexi’s voice, shrill and loud, rings out, as her gaze darts from your connected hands to your faces. You see her roam her gaze across Jake’s body appreciatively. You offer her a tight lipped smile, and her gaze darts back down to your other hand, which is clutching your bag, her gaze focusing on the ring featuring prominently on your finger.
“You’re engaged?” She gasps, and it makes Dan’s gaze snap down to your finger before going back up to your face.
“I am,” you turn to look at Jake, and he meets your gaze with a smile, his expression telltale of the laughter he is controlling.
“But-” she starts, her mind doing a quick calculation of the time between your break up with Dan till now.
“When you’ve known something your whole life,” Jake starts, cutting her off, as he recalls his grandmother’s words to him, “why wait?”
Jake’s eyes are sparkling, and you find yourself leaning up, to kiss him, the smile on his lips matching yours. You both miss the looks from the pair across from you, both shocked, and one with a tinge of envy.
-
One year later
You wake up to arms tight around you, each exhale from Jake fanning gently across the the top of your head. The rhythm of his breathing, calm, slow, even, tells you that he is still fast asleep - something uncharacteristic, because he was the early riser, always up before you. But as Jake had told you multiple times before, he slept better with you.
His hold on you is like a vice, and it takes you a good amount of effort to struggle, before managing to turn in his arms so that you are facing him. You manage to catch the tiny furrow that crosses his brow as his arms adjust to the shift.
Jake’s skin is warm, and you let your lips ghost along his adam’s apple, planting kisses along his neck, the hollow of his throat, before ducking your head to trail your lips along his bare shoulder.
“I like when you wake up before me,” his voice is a deep, thick drawl in the mornings, and it makes you smile against his skin. Jake hugs you even tighter, closer, to him.
“You were so soundly asleep,” you say, but without a hint of remorse in your voice as you kiss your way from his shoulder, back up to his neck.
“You make me lazy,” Jake lets you continue kissing your way up along his neck, enjoying the feeling of your lips against his skin. You reach his jaw, feeling stubble when he flips you over in a deft movement so that you are on your back, his body over yours.
Jake’s arms are at the side of each of your head, and you reach up, fingers pushing his fringe away from his forehead, running themselves through the sides of his hair. You feel his knee, which is between your legs, slide an inch up along the mattress.
“Jake,” you warn as you loop your hands around his neck.
“What?”
“They are expecting us down for breakfast,” you turn your head to a side, scanning the time on the clock beside the bed. You feel his knee shift slightly higher as he dips his face. His action makes you bring your hand up, your open palm connecting with his lips, blocking his face from yours. “They’ll come up if we don’t go down.”
“Let them,” he mutters, voice muffled against the palm of your hand, his lips soft, in contrast to the stubble scratching against your skin.
“That is hardly the best way to start the first morning of married life,” you scoff, and Jake’s chuckle is something you can feel against your hand as he relents, flipping himself back onto the mattress beside you.
“Whatever you say Mrs. Seresin.”
You make to shift yourself off the bed, but Jake’s hand shoots out, fingers encircling your wrist to tug you back down. His arms steady you as you crash into his chest, your palms flat against his bare skin.
“I think I like being married to you,” he hums, the sunlight filtering in through the cream coloured, linen curtains, makes his eyes seem lighter than their usual green.
“Ask me again in three months and I’ll let you know if I feel the same way,” you say in jest, and Jake’s fingers squeeze your waist, a bark of laughter making his body shake under yours, before he presses a kiss to the side of your jaw.
“Baby, I’ll make you wish you married me sooner.”
-
You catch sight of the group sitting around the long table on Grandma Doris’ sprawling outdoor patio through the glass windows which line the side wall of the house.
You see your brothers and their families, interspersed with the Jake’s sisters and their respective broods; your father engaged in conversation with Coyote and Payback; Rooster with Layla nestled comfortable in his lap, staring at the fruits Phoenix is offering to her, attempting to make her choice; Bob and Fanboy entertaining a smiling Grandma Doris; your mother and Grace deep in conversation with Penny, Amelia and Maverick. You can hear the soft hum of conversation which floats through the open door that leads out to the patio, which accompanies the smell of bacon and waffles.
“Ready?” Jake, who is two steps behind you falls in beside you, offering you an upturned palm. The sun coming in from the windows makes the plain gold band, nestled on his fourth finger since yesterday, glint.
“Always,” you respond, sliding your palm into his, the matching gold band you have on, stacked below your engagement ring.
“Good,” Jake brings your hands up to his mouth, lips brushing across your knuckles before he tugs you out into the first morning of the rest of your lives.
END.
>> Flyboy | Mini-series | Masterlist One-shots and blurbs set out therein; more planned one-shots and blurbs coming soon.
>> Jake Seresin Masterlist For more Jake Seresin content.
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adorethedistance · 1 year
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Sweet Creature - Jamie Drysdale x Reader (platonic!Trevor x reader)
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Hockey Masterlist
Warnings: Swearing, mild roasts
Words: 1529
Summary: Domestic bliss featuring everyone’s favorite baby ducks.
A/n: I’m gonna be straight up. I fucking hate this piece. I hate it with a burning fiery passion but if I don’t post it I feel like I’ve just wasted the last few weeks that I’ve spent drafting it so here ya go
“You haven’t seen it?” I nearly screech out of pure astonishment, sitting up from my relaxed position on the couch. Jamie smiles skeptically and shrugs his shoulders with his arms outstretched lazily.
“No clue what you’re talking about.”
“Dvcree did not put their whole Pedrussy into making these Pedro Pascal edits for you to have no idea who I’m talking about.”
“Who?!”
“Ugh, that could’ve been so funny if you were just a little bit more meme-cultured. TREVOR!” I yell from the livingroom which leads the energetic boy to poke his head out of his bedroom door.
“What’s up?”
“Have you seen the Pedro Pascal edit?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you!” I make a face and Jamie to emphasize my point. He slowly shakes his head as he laughs and absentmindedly lifts the knot of his grey hoodie’s drawstring, tucking the woven cotton between his teeth. As the moment of my disbelief passes, I move over to lay down, pressing my left cheek against Jamie’s toned chest.
We’ve been laying on the couch and watching the Last of Us for the better half of an hour, with Trevor occasionally coming by to refill his water bottle and comment on the display of affection between me and Jamie. Our lazy days are nothing short of blissful and I couldn’t be more content with life at the moment.
“It’s ‘cause I’m not on TikTok!” Jamie argues while shifting to accomodate me, wrapping me in his arms, and resting the injured one on the surface of my back. What little of his skin that’s exposed is slightly cool to the touch, and I remember Jamie runs cold more often than not. I’ve been unintnentionally leeching off of his body heat since the outfit I wore today was better suited for the Irvine sun, and not his air-conditioned apartment.
“Well, you should get it. I’m tired of texting you links when I could be sending you DMs.”
“Ugh. I just can’t be bothered.”
“Whatever. Old man.” I momentarily lift my head from Jamie’s chest and pout my lips. He playfully squints at me for a second, then pecks my lips before pressing play on the last few minutes of the episode. The rhythm of his breathing is relaxing for me, and despite the episode only having five minutes left, I feel my eyelids become heavier and heavier. The warmth of our body heat between us soothes my soul, and my muscles release after a long day of productivity. If I went back in time to tell myself that a random apartment unit in Orange County would one day be the most comfortable place in the universe, I might’ve laughed in my own face.
Jamie feels like heaven.
Better than heaven.
He feels like home.
Small breaths escape my parted lips as I sink deeper and deeper into the feeling of his body against mine. And I can’t help smiling gently as I feel his heart momentarily keeping time with a song in the show. The soft fabric of Jamie’s hoodie smells like his favorite cologne over the sweet, comforting smell of his natural scent. His chest vibrates when he hums a small laugh at a joke one of the characters cracked. I’m not sure if he’s noticed my slow descent into unconsciousness, but it’s only a matter of time.
“Good episode,” he says decidedly, waiting a moment. “Y/n?” He whispers softly, unsure of my lack of response. I could say something back if I really wanted to, but with how comfortable the entire situation is, I’d rather just let the exhaustion consume me.
Jamie then grabs his phone from the armrest of the couch behind his head, opens it, and types something before his arms come to rest. In a moment, Trevor comes out of his room and asks,
“What do you need?”
“Shhhh!” Jamie hushes Trevor as he walks in loudly. “Is she asleep?” He asks quietly. Trevor shuffles around the back of the couch to stand in front of the tv, looking at my face most likely.
“Yes.”
“That was fast.”
“No kidding. She’s a cute sleeper.”
“Unlike you.”
“Hey!”
“Shhh.”
“What’s your guys’ dinner plan?”
“I think she wanted to cook something for all three of us but now that she’s out I guess I gotta do some decision-making.”
“Just order something on door dash,” Trevor says plainly as he shuffles back around the couch and into the kitchen area of the apartment.
“I got something earlier this week, my mom’s gonna ask questions.”
“I forget you’re still on her account. Loser.”
“Shut up.” The hushed tone of their chatter is comfortable and I quickly fall asleep in the safety of my boyfriend’s care.
____________________________
When I come back to, the first thing I notice is that Jamie is no longer underneath me. My eyes flutter open. I’m laying on my stomach, sprawled out on the couch under a grey blanket that I recognize to be the one-off of Jamie’s bed.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” I turn to face away from the seatback of the couch and find Trevor and Jamie seated on the floor, an assortment of takeout on the coffee table in front of them. Trevor nods a greeting as Jamie takes a bite of food.
“Were you just watching me sleep?” I ask, slightly freaked out.
“Yes.” Jamie almost chokes on the bite of food, shoving Trevor’s shoulder which makes them both laugh.
“No,” he starts to clarify, “We were just sitting against the couch and when we heard you stirring, we thought it’d be funny to stare at you.”
“How long was I asleep?”
“Like, half an hour?”
“You want some pad thai?” Trevor holds out the box of food he’s eating from and I nod shyly. Jamie passes me an unwrapped pair of chopsticks and I thank him quietly, tucking into the half-eaten box. We sit quietly for all but thirty seconds before Trevor is talking about how we need background music. He puts 1989 on shuffle on the tv and Jamie and I roll our eyes perfectly in sync.
“How dare you! Both of you!”
“Honestly, Z, you’re too predictable. Only one person here out of the three of us had Taylor in our Spotify wrapped and I’ll give you a hint, it wasn’t me.” I shrug from behind my box of food. Trevor scoffs before eating an entire dumping whole.
“She was in mine but she was not number one,” Jamie adds insult to injury.
“Okay then, fine. What about this?” Trevor asks, turning on a song by Luke Combs that I’ve never heard. Jamie’s expression is slightly annoyed but delighted all the same. He responds decisively,
“Much better.”
“What?! Am I missing something?” I ask.
“The whole team’s calling him Luke Combs since Jamie’s guitar learning adventure began, but he can only play two chords of one country song.” I look at Jamie for confirmation and he simply nods, biting the inside of his cheek absentmindedly.
“Really, Jame? Two chords?”
“I’m working on it!”
“Yeah, he’s working on it!” Trevor jokingly jumps in to Jamie’s defense, “Like you could do better!”
“Bitch, I can play guitar!” My argument silences both of them immediately. The two boys share a look and then Trevor is off, racing to grab the instrument from Jamie’s bedroom.
“You’re lying, there’s no way.”
“While some of you were busy dedicating a gazillion hours a week to hockey practice, the rest of us expanded our skill sets.” I take the guitar as Trevor hands it to me and situate myself before strumming a quick brush through and immediately cringing. “Your A string is flat.” Jamie looks at me confused, and I extend my hand to take the instrument from him. He yields and passes it over, allowing me to remedy the issue. After tuning the string, I smile and move to hand Jamie the guitar back but he doesn’t move. Instead he nods, urging me to play and I take a deep breath.
“It’s been a while…”
“Oh, don’t back out now!” Trevor teases and I playfully stick my tongue out at him. I adjust my grip, racking my brain for a song, any song. My mind settles on Sweet Creature by Harry Styles and I decide to just go for it. I’m a tad rusty but other than that I have the melody under control. The song is pretty enough on it’s own and I trail off after the first chorus, overcome with a newfound shyness at the looks Jamie and Trevor are giving me. Jamie’s lips are parted in awe and Trevor bursts out laughing.
“You might as well give up now, Jimmy.”
“Lucky for him, I’m an excellent teacher.” I say with a smile, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. Jamie snaps back into reality and begins blushing like crazy.
“I don’t think I’ll ever sound like that.”
“You just need practice. I have a few more years on you so of course I’m gonna sound better than someone who’s just starting. You’ve got this and worse case scenario I can help.”
Jamie smiles sweetly, and my heart skips a beat.
“Will you play it again?”
580 notes · View notes
narumi-gens · 9 months
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Meet the Miyas Masterlist
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Miya Osamu x f!Reader
summary: Marrying one Miya means that you're basically marrying two.
warnings: fluff, domestic bliss, real slice of life shit here, husband!osamu, dilf!osamu, regular relationship ups and downs, no major drama (unless it’s of atsumu’s making), best friend and perpetual pain in the neck!atsumu, you and osamu and baby!miya are the titular miyas, atsumu is just a tagalong
notes: just couldn’t help myself. I just can’t leave platonic!osamu and reader alone. (don’t hold me to an update schedule or frequency. that would be too reliable of me.)
minors, ageless, and blank blogs do not interact
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Platonic: Osamu knows that there’s nothing going on between you and his brother. And yet, he still can’t help but be jealous.
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Cupid's Arrow: There’s no such thing as Cupid’s arrow. But fortunately for you and Osamu, you both have Atsumu. (OR: your relationship with Osamu as seen through Atsumu’s eyes.)
The Set Up
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The L Word: Love makes people stupid. Osamu knows it firsthand.
180 notes · View notes
lovelytsunoda · 2 years
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lovelytsunoda
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🌹   = personal favourite 🎄= christmas collection
🍑   = spicy / smutty 🍂 = cozy collection
 🌩  = emotional / angsty 💍 = wedding saga
🐥 = domestic bliss
formula one drivers
series
the one direction series
( lance, lando, yuki, alex, mick, pierre and daniel )
the katy perry throwback series
( charles, carlos, george, esteban, zhou, oscar and logan )
family are the friends that you meet along the way ( platonic! mercedes x reader ) 🌩🌹
tina! the series
charles leclerc
radiator springs ( series )
summary: following a career-defining three-way tie in france, charles leclerc finds himself drunk on tequila as he aimlessly drives around. after crashing in radiator springs, a nowhere town in the french riviera, he finds himself behind bars and on the hook for a few thousand dollars in damage he caused on his drunken bender. a former hot-shot city lawyer convinces the mayor to make charles stay until he fixes the town square, and charles ruminates on lessons about, fame, life and love while he slowly falls for the lawyer that caused it all in the first place. yes this is the plot of cars, no i do not take criticism.
pinup (headcanons) 🌩 🌹
summary: charles has a great idea to help his girlfriend feel more confident in her body
haunted house ( the cozy collection 2022 ) 🍂
summary: charles and y/n go to a haunted house at the local fall fair. but the biggest scaredy cat of all may surprise you…
santa baby (the christmas collection 2022) 🎄🍑🐥🌹
summary: it's christmas morning, his mother has the kids, and it's been too long since he and his wife got to enjoy a little bit of quality time, if you get what he's saying
cake is definitely a form of self care (headcanons)
summary: the last month has been rough for both of them, so now that they're both home, together, with no obligations, charles has a really great (but also really dumb) idea a.k.a, baking with charles
I’m with you (drabble)(cozy collection 2023) 🍂
cozy fall things with charles
she sells sanctuary (kinktober 2023) 🍑
she wasn’t expecting him to be home so soon. and now that he is, she can’t stand seeing him so exhausted. a warm shower should fix that, right?
yuki tsunoda ( a.k.a the cutest human to ever grace planet earth )
enchanting ( headcanon ) 🍑
summary: italian winters are cold, and with y/n beside him, yuki thinks up a great way to warm up for the morning
paperback lover ( headcanon ) 🌹
summary: yuki’s girlfriend loves to read, and he loves to observe
this is halloween ( the cozy collection 2022 ) 🍂🌹
summary: for their first halloween together, y/n shows yuki all of the things that she loves about spooky season.
breakfast in bed (headcanons) 🍑🌹
summary: it's his girlfriend's birthday, and yuki has the best surprise planned: breakfast in bed, with a little something *extra* on the side
super bass (headcanons) (miami gp 2023 special!) 🍑🌹
summary: its media day in miami, and y/n's boyfriend can hardly say he's wearing a shirt . . . unfortunately, there's no time to slip away, so she's biding her time until they get back to the hotel and her lover can take his time with her.
flower power 🌹
summary: he has so much love in his heart, and finally there’s someone he can share it with. or, all the times yuki almost asked y/n to marry him, and the one time she said yes.
pour some sugar on me (kinktober 2023) 🍑🌹
a little bit of lavender candle oil and a hot masseur can make a long, gruelling day at work (and some serious back strain) have a very happy ending
god knows i've tried (the christmas collection 2023) 🎄🌩️🌹
stranded at her publishers office after the battery in her car dies, there's only one person she wants to call for a jumpstart
by my side
pasta always tastes sweeter when made together after a long week at work. all she wants is to bask in his sunshine. and hes all too glad to share his light with her
lance stroll
baby steps ( headcanon ) 🌹 🐥
summary: lance and y/n bring their daughter to a race for the first time. can be read as follow up to night changes
mr. brightside ( headcanon ) 🍑
summary: they’re supposed to be meeting sebastian for dinner, but once lance sees y/n in her dress, he gets other ideas
wait on me ( headcanons ) 🍑💍🌹
summary: the minute he met her, he knew she was his forever. now, when all the vows are said and done, he gets to make her his all over again. or, wedding night sex with husband!lance
apple cider and the tap tapping of little paws ( the cozy collection 2022 ) 🍂🌩🌹
summary: it’s their first fall living together, and lance thinks it’s time for the next step: adopting a puppy
tipsy (headcanons)
summary: eggnog, holiday spirit and christmas music. lucky for y/n, lance is a romantic drunk.
yule shoot your eye out (the christmas collection 2022) 🎄🍑🌹
summary: it was supposed to be a relaxing getaway. instead, a snowstorm traps y/n ocon and lance stroll inside the mount tremblant cabin they had rented. so until the snow melts, she's trapped with her brother's best friend, and forced to reckon with her feelings.
there's a honey(mini fic) 🍑🌹
lance thinks that the image of y/n reading her scandalously smutty romance book is the image of sensuality. or, private library sex with lance <3
i've been meaning to tell you (headcanons) (unofficial sequel to 'baby steps') 🐥
summary: y/n has something to share with her husband post bahrain 2023 that might make the whole weekend just a little bit sweeter
november rain 🌹💍🍑
summary: after four long years and one pandemic cancellation, it's finally time for y/n and lance to return home to mount tremblant and tie the knot.
slumber party (headcanons) 🐥🌹
lance gets left in charge of his daughters slumber party after his wife falls ill.
mr. ghostface (the cozy collection 2023) 🍂🌹🍑
a trip to spirit halloween with her husband plants an idea in lance's head that he can't quite shake. knowing how stressed his beloved has been lately, he just wants them to have a little bit of spooky and festive fun.
sleigh ride (the christmas collection 2023) 🎄🌹💍
christmas has never been his holiday. but she adores it, and he wants to make this christmas one that she won't forget.
don't go breaking my heart 🌹💍
weddings are joyous and festive, but can be stressful for introverts like lance and his wife. so when they were able to steal some moments with each other in the peace of his aston martin between the ceremony and the venue, they know these are the moments they will treasure the most from that day.
pierre gasly
bamboozled ( headcanon ) 🌹
summary: pierre told y/n they weren't getting a dog together. well, they got a dog and now pierre has a new best friend
tell me more ( headcanon ) 🌹
summary: pierre always knew y/n’s music taste was a little different, but when she takes him to a concert, he has no idea what he’s getting himself into..
if you like pina coladas ( the cozy collection 2022 )🍂🐥
summary: after a brilliant weekend away, pierre and his girlfriend get caught in a storm and debate the best way to run from the porsche to the front door. (mini fic)
mr. winter (the christmas collection 2022) 🎄
summary: bad weather is keeping her flight grounded for the foreseeable future. as her holidays fall apart, she meets a handsome stranger in the terminal next to hers.
she keeps me up (headcanons) 🍑
summary: driving in the storm was a bad idea. when she gets stranded at a rest stop, what's the harm in having a little bit of casual fun with the hot stranger that's also stuck there?
twelve fractures  🌩🍑🌹
summary: the four times that y/n leclerc almost called pierre gasly, and the one time that he gave in and called her.
lando norris
bath & body works ( headcanon )
summary: y/n can’t find her perfume. a quick face time to lando explains why
would it be a sin? ( cozy collection 2022 ) 🍂🍑🌹
summary: lando tries (and fails in the sweetest funniest of ways) to make his and y/n’s first night in their new house together a memorable experience
good girls go bad (headcanons) 🌹
summary: inspired by good girls go bad by cobra starship, y/n fancies the suave british dj that she meets in ibiza. dj!lando x female reader au
ribbons, scotch tape and holly (headcanons)
summary: a relaxing afternoon of wrapping christmas presents with her lover. at least, it was supposed to be. aka, lando is shit at wrapping presents
shut up and drive (street racing au!) (headcanons) 🌹
summary: headcanons i wrote after watching the fast and the furious movies . . . enough said. lando is infatuated with the woman in the pink mustang who kicks his ass in a bristol street race.
I want candy (mini fic) 🍑🌹
two p2s in a row for her lover boy deserves a reward.
kill of the night (the cozy collection 2023) 🍂🌹
she hates parties. especially quadrant parties hosted in large creepy mansions. at least the hot pirate hosting the party is into her, or she would have left ages ago.
give me a kiss (or three) 🍑
matching clothes shouldn't turn lando on this much. but here we are.
alex albon
hungry eyes ( headcanons ) 🍑 🌹
summary: rainy days for alex and y/n means movies, slow dancing, scented candles and soft sex in front of the fireplace
better weather ( mini fic ) 🌩
summary: holiday break is coming to an end, and his girlfriends anxiety is starting to kick in ( *cough* holiday burnout *cough* )
bump in the night ( the cozy collection 2022 ) 🍂🍑 (just a small smutty scene)
summary: y/n hates being scared, so when alex freaks her out on movie night, he takes advantage of that. or, where alex pranks y/n until he really can’t explain why the lights suddenly went out
the sexy alphabet 🍑
an nsfw alphabet.
under the mistletoe (the christmas collection 2022) 🎄🌹
summary: alex has the perfect answer to his girlfriend's seasonal sadness: keeping things festive and decorating the entire house, with a little bit of help from the cats, of course!
featherweight (headcanons) 🍑
summary: nsfw thoughts about alexander albon and feathers. as well as me rambling about how soft and romantic that i think he is because you should know by now that i am a hopeless romantic.
a sweet, sweet, fantasy baby 🍑🌹
summary: she thought that settling down with the love of her life was just a fever dream, that being loved just wasn't in the cards for her. but alex made her dreams come true with a small silver ring. or, engagement night sex with alex.
i saw mommy kissing santa claus (the christmas collection) 🎄🐥
alex has to keep up the illusion that santa claus is real, and every year gets more extreme than the last. he's got footprints to put on the living room floor and cookies to eat and stocking to fill . . . and at this rate, he's going to wake up the whole house.
daniel ricciardo
maybe, baby ( headcanons ) 🍑🌹🐥
summary: daniel and his fiancee decide it's time for a baby, at a time when his future looks more and more uncertain
the songs that remind us of the good times (headcanons)
summary: singapore brings the best result of daniel's season. let the celebrations and declarations ensue
jack and sally ( the cozy collection 2022 ) 🍂💍🌹
summary: scotty and chloe are throwing a halloween party, and danny and y/n think they've got the best couples costume in the entire party.
cuts like a knife ( headcanons ) 🌹🐥
summary: he's a local legend in perth, and she's just the girl that works at the dive bar. ( for all intents and purposes, every song that he sings is by bryan adams. )
baby, it's cold outside (the christmas collection 2022) 🎄🌹🐥
summary: daniel and his wife celebrate his first christmas without f1 with their daughter while they reminisce on how they got there.
the right temperature to be keeping you warm (kinktober 2023) 🍑
she’s not used to october being as warm as it is when she joins daniel in perth for thanksgiving. the heat is unbearable, and daniel has a fun way to cool her down.
vermont (the christmas collection 2023) 🎄
the ski trip sounded all well and good in theory. except for the fact that she would rather be in the chalet than on the slopes. so when she gets stuck on a ski lift and starts to hyperventilate, danny is the one to calm her down.
zhou guanyu
exile 🌩🌹
summary:  after her boyfriend crashes at the british grand prix, nobody will tell y/n anything. ( she’s seen this film before, and she didn’t like the ending )
new year's eve (the christmas collection 2022) 🎄🌹🍑
summary: a sponsor event in the big apple, white wine on linen, a chinese stain removal method and a red silk qipao bring zhou and y/n together for a new year's adventure that teaches them important lessons about self-love, intimacy and the joy of living.
life in plastic, it’s fantastic (headcanons) 🐥
summary: zhou and y/n build their daughter a dollhouse, inspired by a very familiar garage.
this call is coming from inside the house (the cozy collection 2023)🍂🌹
the corn maze is her favourite fall tradition, and she's so excited to share it with her boyfriend for the first time. it's a shame that his wandering hands got them lost.
george russell
illicit affairs ( headcanons ) 🍑
summary: his girlfriend has had a long day, and george just wants her to relax for half an hour (bathtub sex with george)
ironic ( cozy collection 2022 ) 🍂💍🌹
summary: everything on their wedding day goes wrong, in all the right ways. inspired by verses from ‘ironic’ by alanis morrisette
christmas on the road (the christmas collection 2022) 🎄🌹🐥
summary: all george wants for christmas is to get home to his wife and his son. unbeknownst to him, his wife has a little surprise in the form of two pink lines that's about to make his christmas that much sweeter.
audiobooks (headcanons) 🌹
george records an audio version of his fiancée's favourite book so that she doesn't feel alone when he's out on a double header
the great christmas light fight (the christmas collection 2023) 🎄🍑
their newlywed christmas might not be all they hoped it would be when a new couple moves in across the street and threatens to steal george's title as 'king of christmas'
esteban ocon
jetlag (headcanons)
estie bestie and y/n miss each other like hell. he’s just come back from a race weekend, and she’s gone to a hen week in another time zone
oscar piastri
insatiable (drabble) 🍑🌹
oscar is a tits man.
glad I crashed the wedding (cozy collection 2023) 🍂🍑🌹
summary: she needed a wedding date. he wanted a reason to spend time with her. but of course, the inn only has one bed, and oscar makes her feel alive in a way she's never felt before.
naughty list (the christmas collection 2023) 🎄🍑
oscar's bored, horny and hopelessly smitten with his lover. but if he keep this up, he's going to land them both on santa's naughty list this year.
nation of two
a camping trip in perth, and a set of missing sleeping bags brings together a pair of childhood friends in a way neither of them had quite anticipated
logan sargeant
954 🍑🌩
florida man fucks shy college girl.
former drivers
formula two masterlist
indycar masterlist
misc masterlist
1K notes · View notes
snax-writes · 6 months
Text
snax writes suits.
[masterlist]
harvey specter.
yankees game [suggestive, fluff, flirty]: after a long day at the firm, you and Harvey finally go home. [s1 e7 – au]
hard days [fluff, domestic, hurt/comfort]: after a long day at the firm, harvey gets home.
his princess [fluff, pregnancy, dad!harvey]: harvey picks you up to go to your sonogram appointment together.
a goddess's body [body worship, semi-public, potential TW eating disorder]: the first thing harvey does, after coming home from a trial in chicago, is making sure you feel like the goddess you are.
family friend [platonic, fluff, praise]: when harvey congratulates you on a won case, you get suspicious.
sunny [slight possessiveness, nickname, fluff]: harvey has a nickname for you that for some reason no one else is allowed to use.
early morning antics [morning bliss, suggestive, pancakes]: it’s early in the morning and regrettably you and Harvey have to go to work.
unsolicited [fighting, protectiveness, colleagues to lovers]: when Harvey asks Mike to assist you on your case, without you asking for it, you can’t help but take it as an offense.
polite and respectful [secret relationship, banter, husband&dad!harvey]: everyone always thought you and Harvey hate each other.
105 notes · View notes
findafight · 1 year
Text
I want a "Steve thinks he's out but everyone missed the memo" fic where Robin and Steve are disasters together fully believing they've come out successfully to a welcoming and supportive Party making queer little jokes together about their eventual shared home and ugly rescue cat ("Sassafras and Moonshine don't deserve your scorn, Buckley" "hey!! We agreed the first cat would be Lord Fuzzy Butt, Gargle, or whatever fucked up name the shelter gave them and would be the most grouchy and ugly bastard they had. Sassafras and Moonshine are our sweet babies and come later" "ah shit, you're right. How could I forget about Lord Fuzzy Butt.")
Except. Because everyone is still under the assumption the two are Straight none of these conversations do anything to dissuade the group from thinking they're dating, many actually encouraging that thought process to only lead to more confusion when Robin and Steve get really annoyed when asked if they're SURE they're not dating? Like yes??? Obviously this is platonic life partner planning!!
Idk how it would be Revealed but I want Eddie slowly dying because he's getting the most mixed signals of Steve maybe flirting with him and then actively planning domestic bliss with Robin who also seems to be really close with that Vickie friend of hers who sometimes joins in on the domestic bliss planning... And Steve is like idk Robin do you think Eddie actually likes me back sometimes he seems really into flirting with me and others he just gives me a look like I said I ate ants as dessert?
2K notes · View notes
anglingforlevels · 7 months
Text
Yours (Reader x Platonic Yandere!Imposter)
I can't walk on my knee, and apparently, knee-pain is the best motivator to write because I sat down and wrote this. Not sure if it makes sense, but alas.
CW: Yandere, monsterfuckery, reader has a brother, mental anguish, straight up no one has a good time in this story, not proofread, dead dove
Minors DNI
Today was an important day.
You hadn’t slept very well, still exhausted to the bone. Nonetheless, you had dressed up nicely for the occasion. A certain anxiety flittering and forcing you to fiddle around with trinkets and empty frames. You really should find a picture for that frame, then again, pictures was always more your brother’s thing.
The unrest culminated in said empty frame receiving a crash course in gravity, repaying the favor by glass shattering across the floor.
Damnit.
“Breaking the apartment?”
You were immediately faced with that question when you sheepishly emerged from your room to search for a broom. Asked by none other than your brother, James, who was lounging comfortably on the sofa, flipping through a magazine, he made a hand motion urging you to come sit too.
“Not yet. I dropped something, alas, my hands must be as smooth as marble, it just rolled right out of them.” You sighed and shrugged, awaiting the usual punchline expectantly. James made the grand sacrifice of looking away from the pages of his magazine to direct a raised eyebrow at you.
“Smooth as what now?” He asked, and your arms dropped, for a moment your expression did too, caught off guard. You collected yourself quickly though.
“Marble. It’s either this lame joke or self-deprecation.” At this, you dramatically sighed and lifted your hand to your forehead, “Oh, it seems even picture frames flees from my touch.”
James wrinkled his nose at this. “Ugh, no, I’d rather have Mx. Marble Hands back then.”
“I’m afraid they’ve perished. Marbled to death. Investigations still ongoing, my money’s on the picture frame.”
“Well, then they kinda had it coming, don’t you think?”
You gasped at this. “Vengeance is never the answer, haven’t you watched any children’s cartoons?”
“Not a child, so no.” He answered dryly. He had been a child at some point, so you weren’t sure what to make of the answer, feeling a bit at a loss, but you powered through.
“Mx. Marble hands deserved better than this. I’d hate to be them right now.”
“I’d hate to be them anytime. Now, please shut up about it and come sit down.”
“Despite how politely you asked, I can’t. Believe it or not – some of us actually have plans.” You said with a joking “hmpf”.
“Whaat, plans? No way.”
“Wha- what’s with the immediate disbelief? Today is an important day. Today’s… It’s…” You furrowed your brow as you faltered, not noticing the way James’ attention sharply focused on you. “…Today is important, isn’t it?”
But why? What was happening today?
“Oh, probably some kind of fight day or independence day? You were always sappy for those.” James laughed, and your expression relaxed as you rolled your eyes at him.
“It’s important to celebrate that kind of stuff.” You laughed, even though it still felt wrong. Feeling restless once more but without knowing what your plans were, you settled on the sofa next to James who abandoned his magazine in an attempt to convince you to play Street Fighter together, though at your continued rejection, he dejectedly played solo, shifting, and settling up against you as he played quietly.
Relishing the comfortable familiarity and domestic bliss, you closed your eyes with a sigh, enjoying the ache of your tired limbs coming to a rest, and most of all, enjoying the quiet. You liked it much better when he didn’t speak. And then, you felt startled at the thought, how mean it felt. You didn’t like the fact you had thought it at all, so you focused on something else.
You glanced at the sole item on the empty wall: The calendar. It was tacky and ugly, but you had some fondness for it, it was the first item you bought when you moved out to live on your own.
No, you didn’t live alone, you lived with James. Right, the first item for when you and James moved out.
You kept glancing though the date felt significant, it didn’t invoke memories of why, and you felt an odd sense of distanced anxiety at this, worried if you were possibly late for whatever your plans was, yet not feeling anywhere enough panic either, settled into lukewarm worry instead.
“You trying to make time fly faster or something?” James asked, not looking away from the video game he was playing (and losing). You looked away from the calendar at that.
“Maybe it’s just that painful to see you repeatedly lose Street Fighter. You know, you can crouch and kick on repeat, right?”
“I have something called integrity and honor.”
You glanced one last time at the calendar, the date keeping captive the corners of your mind, the ones that felt fuzzy and blurry – just out of reach from what you could comprehend. As you finally gave up on the calendar, you noticed the wall.
Had it always been this empty?
Somehow, the sight made you feel uneasy. “Hey James, why don’t we take some pictures?”
“…I really don’t like that kinda stuff. I’ve never understood the craze about phones and cameras.”
“Oh, I get why you’re bad at games now. You’re actually an old man.”
“Aw, shut up.”
You didn’t take notice of the way James looked at you, your own gaze fixed on nothing at all, an ambiguous expression on your face, as if unable to settle on an emotion among your conflicted, confused state. It was a buzzing, prickling sensation, like when regaining feeling in a numb limb, and it felt like you could unearth what these emotions were, if you just, held on a moment longer, if you let the numbness subsize just a little m-
“How about playing a song on the piano?”
“Oh? Uh, I don’t play the piano.” You said, disorientated, the numbness spreading again. James’ face dropped briefly.
“Then why don’t we watch a movie?”
“Yeah. Of course, sure. Can it be Beauty Squad” You answered almost reflexively. Happy for a distraction, you clung onto the suggestion, as if drowning your own senses in familiarity. James’ resigned compliance to your usual movie-choice felt like a warm blanket, a blissful cover.
The fatigue sitting in your bones made you give in to its warm embrace, how long had you been awake? It was hard to tell when being conscious and unconscious all felt the same.
Familiar tones played out, familiar lines, familiar antics. You thought James wouldn’t like you to rest your head in his lap, but he hadn’t said a thing in protest, silently letting you. Only the sounds of the movie filled the room as James absent-mindedly played with strands of your hair.
If this moment could last forever, then maybe everything would be okay. You could close your eyes to this moment and…
The music became chaotic and fast as the main character crashed down into their own graduation ceremony, saying a corny punchline before the cartoonish chase resumed.
“Pfft,” Your laugh caught James’ attention, and of course, he demanded to know what you were laughing at. “Ah, nothing, nothing. It’s just, this scene is just like when you accidentally interrupted your own graduation ceremony to take pictures.”
“…” James didn’t respond for a moment. And you looked at him… Right, he was in high school right now, wasn’t he?
“It’s… It’s nothing.”
You tried not to look at the empty wall.
You stood up. “Hey, the movie’s still going, sit back down.”
It took you a moment to respond, your mouth felt so dry, and a wave of dizziness hit. “I… I just wanted a snack. I’ll be back in a moment.” James looked blankly at you for a moment, and for a moment it felt as if he was examining you, like standing before a judge, and then he nodded.
You walked, part of you protesting needing permission from him to leave, but your mind wasn’t made up either, stuck in the desire to stay but feeling drowned, as if being swallowed by a vastness. You had to leave. To move. Something. Anything.
Drowning in the dark thoughts of your mind, it felt as if it would burst. Part of you wanted it to, tempted to hit your hands against your temple, as if to make everything spill, splash across the floor and far away from you.
Instead, you walked to the kitchen. One step, then the next. You wondered, in these moments, if he knew how it felt to die while breathing, to drown while on land. One step, then the next. It was all you could do.
In the kitchen, you opened the fridge only to be greeted by empty rows. No one had gone grocery-shopping it seemed. Right, that was your job, wasn’t it? Who else could it be? James was… he was a teen, right. Yeah, that’s right, you were alone.
No. Not alone. James was here, just, you were the only adult here. That’s right.
Grocery shopping, right. How long had it been since you went grocery shopping? When had you last gone outside? You looked down at yourself. You were dressed nicely. Right. Today was an important day, wasn’t it?
You felt lost and dizzy, seeking something to support yourself, your hand landed on the wall. The empty wall. Why was this wall also so empty? All of them was empty.
You mistook desperation for determination as you began to look through drawers to find an instant camera. You knew James had one lying around here. Your James had so many cameras.
“But James doesn’t like cameras.” You repeated joylessly. Nonetheless, in your hands, an instant camera. On clumsy feet you began to sneak toward the living room. James, unaware of your presence, sat on the sofa, waiting.
Click.
Looking down at the picture. It hadn’t developed yet. You’d find tacks or something so you could hang it. The sofa creaked as James stood up. He had heard the click probably, and noticed you standing awkwardly in the doorway, clutching something to your chest, of course.
You think, in the back of your mind, that James said something, but you head felt light, as you looked at empty walls. Temporarily empty walls. It would be better now, if you could just fill them out, your life could return to normalcy, and you’d return to the ground.
You looked down at the photo in your hand. Shapes were slowly starting to form, making way for imagery. It was only a flash, barked, hollowed skin, wrongly bent joints, and a yellowly glow, then something grabbed tightly onto your wrist, the photo snatched from your hand before it finished developing.
It was James grasping your wrist tightly, pupils dilated and a tight expression on his face. Then he sighed. “Playing spy, are we?” He smiled but the smile felt sharp and tight, and his laugh felt forced and bitter.
“I… I think I need to lie down.”
“Alright.” He nodded, leading you toward the sofa, but you weakly pulled against his grip, shaking your head.
“In my bed.” You needed to get away, his presence felt cloying, and the empty walls felt as if they closed in on you. You needed a moment. He didn’t stop tugging you toward the sofa, your limbs felt too weak to put up any real resistance.
“Don’t be silly. I can watch over you better from the sofa.”
You pulled harshly at his grip. “No!” He stopped and looked at you for a moment. And you felt little under his glance, unable to explain yourself properly. He was trying to help, but it was wrong, something was wrong. The walls was empty, the fridge was empty, the apartment was… “I… Just a moment, I’ll be out in a moment.”
After a moment, he released your wrist. “Okay.”
You stumbled a bit, having unconsciously relied on the support of his grip. It was the same old sensation of falling, yet your feet never left the ground, was it a dive into nothingness, or a flight into something worse? You never learned because each time, like an anchor, you’d be pulled to the harshness of the ground by a hand on your shoulder and another distracting line, it pulled you back but never caught you in your fall.
You wondered where’d you land without an anchor.
You hurried to your room and was greeted with shattered glass. Right. From earlier, you had needed a broom, and you had to hurry because today was an important day. Your foot touched the broken frame.
The empty walls were left behind, but the room felt even smaller, and you felt tired. Too tired to push against the pressure building, letting it swallow and choke you. There had to be… a picture. Something to put in the frame. Why else would you have it?
Looking through bottom drawers and beneath your bed, it was hard to tell if you had dived onto your knee or if they had simply buckled beneath the weight of your own desperation, glass shards dug into skin as you looked through cloudy eyes.
And, in the corner under your bed, hidden away by pieces of cloth and scattered objects, was a little box. You pulled it out, your hands shook as you opened the little lock with practiced ease, as if you knew the box already.
In the box was carefully placed pictures, all wrinkled as if having been held often. On the roof of the box was a date scribbled, today’s date. You were in many of the pictures, sticking your tongue out at whoever was taking it. And some of them, there was another person, usually laughing together with you.
For a moment, you almost wanted to ask; Who’s that?
Something within you felt like it was going to burst. “James?”
This guy whose smile was entirely different, whose eyes were different, whose build was different – who was different. This was James, and for a moment, you had forgotten. Someone you loved and held so dear; you had forgotten until reminded.
Each time you looked away, it grew hazy once more, and it took just a second longer to recognize the picture again. It felt as if you’d break beneath it all.
“Oh, you want me to pause the movie?” James’ voice called out from the other room. No. Not James. Whoever that stranger was, it wasn’t James, they didn’t even bear a semblance. You wanted to scream and cry and ask, no, demand answers from this imposter.
“Hello, you hear me?” His head peeked through the door-opening, and every word died on your tongue as familiarity enveloped you. It wasn’t… It was not James. Your grip tightened on the picture, as if to remind yourself.
 “Hey,” he said, a concerned look. “Are you okay?”
You didn’t respond, didn’t know how to. But perhaps you didn’t need to as he saw the scattered photos among bloody glass shards. “Come out, I’ll bandage your wounds.” Was all he said.
“You’re not him. You’re not my brother.” It felt like pushing a boulder just to say that. The words felt foreign in your mouth, but you held onto the truth the best you could.
“What’s different about me?” he asked. You hadn’t been prepared for that question. Retaliation, denial, anything but that question.
“It’s… Different. You…”
He laughed. “You really do need to lie down; you must be half-asleep or something.”
No. For the first time today, you felt awake. “No. I know I’m right. You’re not…” You all-but flung the picture of your brother at him. The picture now in view, the person in front of you grew unfamiliar again.
“Does it really matter? If you need a picture to notice we’re different?” Before you had a chance to even respond, he leaned closer, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look away from the scattered photos. “Try it. Describe him.”
…You couldn’t.
“But when you look at me, you remember. Who cares if the memories are right?”
There was a temptation of giving into the sweetness that clung onto his words, the sweet lie feeling more welcome than a truth you feared facing. But you could still feel the photos beneath your fingers, feel the sting of the shards in your skin.
“I care!” Your voice raised and cracked, sharp and jagged like the shards.
Frustration slipped into his sigh. “For now. But as always, you’ll forget again. There’s no point in this tantrum. You don’t want to remember anyway, you’re too fragile for loss, so just-“
His words were interrupted as you nicked his cheek with one of the glass shards. At this he stepped back, releasing your chin. His expression’s thinly veiled exhaustion and annoyance gave way for clear resentment and frustration.
When he spoke, his voice was bitter and low, an almost malicious edge to it.
“Do you even comprehend how much I hold back not to kill you? Every moment, it’s as if your very being beckons me to consume it, that’s why I showed up to begin with. To feed. But I decided to stay, unlike everyone else, I’m staying, I’m here!
Anything you lack, anything you miss – I’ll be that. Your brother, your friends, your old stuffed animals, your childhood, yours. I’m yours. Why don’t you und-“He stopped his increasingly fast rant, sighing in tired frustration. “It doesn’t matter. In the end, it’ll be the same as always. You stay. You always stay with me, just like I always stay with you.”
Your breath was caught in your throat. But… Even though you didn’t remember, you remembered the feeling of flying so high and swimming so far, now you were stuck at the bottom of the ocean, unable to lift from the ground as you drowned, and you longed to remember the feeling of not hurting, in the face of that, fear meant nothing.
“You can’t become my brother; you can’t become anything.”
“I can. I do.” He insisted. He kneeled next to you, reaching out to you as if to comfort you, as you flinched, he let his hand fall again, and part of you wished he hadn’t, longing for the warmth. “Hidden wounds don’t need to heal. And someday, I’ll replace even the blood gushing from those very wounds.”
Nothing about his words was a comfort, somehow it felt as if he was comforting himself with them. You wanted to explode in anger, continue an assault, use glass shards or words, but anger was flames and passion and action and – and you were just too tired.
“Do you hate me this much, to torture me like this?”
“Not hate.” At this, he breached the invisible barrier, letting his hand cup your cheek. “Every time you remember a little less, question a little less, and I hide a little less. Bit by bit. One day you’ll look at my true body, hear my true voice, and think nothing of it. All you’ll see is your brother. And you’ll be right, your brother, me, not him. Not some wasted grief. I’ll make you happy.”
“This doesn’t feel like happy.” All you could manage was a broken whisper. “Why?”
He was silent for a moment before speaking,
“I’ve fed on countless people. I exist only in the scope of broken dreams and wasted chances. Regrets is the proof of life, and so I remove those regrets, and with that, their very lives, and humanity slowly corrodes. And I – I cannot even have that. That one, painful semblance of life, and yet I continue to live.”
His voice was an odd mix of gleeful and resentful. You thought, somewhere in the back of your mind, that maybe he was happy to just bare himself at all, another part of you wished he didn’t, as he grew more distant from what you knew with each word, but you didn’t believe this speech really was for you, it was for himself.
“Reasons, what reasons did I have for living or dying. I was devoid of it all yet forced to play part of it all the same, in make-believe fantasies. And even so, it was never for me to comfort or be comforted, never for me to share a meal, never for me to hold a hand, never for me to hear the sound of someone playing the piano for me, never for me to fight and make up with someone, never for me.
In this world I lacked even ones to hate. And yet, all I could do was hate. Stuck in the dirt, all I could do was look up into heaven, cursing every leaf picked by the wind, every bird that could fly, everything that could move where I could not. Love where I could not. I was in hell but forced to act out heaven.
Every time it’d be a new face, a new regret, a new deception. Never me. Always something there isn’t there. But you… You saw, you knew – for a moment, you knew. And yet, you stayed. You didn’t fight, didn’t run. You closed your eyes to it, and clung to my delusions, clung to me.”
“And yet, here you are, pretending to be my brother.” At this, the corners of his lips quirked down, his figure looming as it seemed to grow, crooked and spiny. You thought maybe this was just a little closer to his true form.
“One day, you’ll forget why you clung to me. And then you’ll cling to me all over again. I know it, you are my one thing, my one person, the one thing for me. You infuriate me, you bring me joy, regrets, hopes, all of it – I can obtain it with you, through you, if I just hold on long enough.
Even if my body decays under the weight of hunger, I’ll stay for you without fail.”
”But I want you to leave.” The words sounded fake and hollow, even in your ears.
At this, he laughed. “Leave? And then what, you’ll be left in this empty apartment? Staring at pictures, rewatching old home movies? You don’t really want that.”
“Shut up, you don’t know what I want. You don’t-“ your words were like sand in your throat, forcing it to close until nothing could come out but broken sobs. He took the silence as cue to move closer, wrapping his arms around you – you hated the comfort of this stranger but felt unable to push away its familiarity, clinging desperately unto it.
“I can leave. Simply say the words and you’ll be rid of me.” He said with such ease because he knew you couldn’t do it. In the end, the only thing crueler than this torture was its absence.
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hawkinsbnbg · 6 months
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Steve always acted aloof because he knew firsthand how painful it was to care too much and feel too deep.
He didn't want to be hurt anymore so he stopped caring and just stood by watching life go on around him.
Ironically, his standoffish attitude attracted people, giving off the mysterious vibe that teenage girls always dug.
Yet, somehow, he wasn't satisfied with their affections because they were always a bit too fake, a bit too superficial for him to stay ignorant.
It wasn't until Nancy Wheeler that he started feeling something outside ennui. She fascinated him with her brilliance and he found his life less dull around her.
So he learned to care again and again and again. But despite his efforts, his heart still ended up in dumpsters.
However, this time around, Steve didn't have a chance to go back to detaching himself from the world anymore.
Because he had met Dustin, Lucas, Max, Will, El, and even Mike who always gave him shit still managed to take a special place in his heart.
Then, he met Robin, his platonic soulmate and he just knew he couldn't return to his old self, couldn't put on his old armor anymore.
Sometimes, the thought kept Steve up at night, making him terrified that he'd be hurt far worse without his armor protecting him.
And yet, Steve was willing to risk it all because not only Robin and the kids, but also Joyce, Hopper, Nancy, and Jonathan were worth it.
Nevertheless, he started struggling with romantic relationships.
Robin said he should pay more attention if he wanted something real, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
Why would he when he would end up heartbroken anyway?
But then, Eddie Munson entered his life.
He made Steve yearn, made Steve care, and made Steve feel something other than love. It was joy, it was happiness, and it was everything Steve never thought he would want until Eddie gave them to him.
He knew Eddie was it for him. And he was scared that he would fuck this up again just like how he did with Nancy.
Except, Steve's fear was unfounded when everything just came easily and naturally between them.
It was too different from Steve's past experiences that he had kind of lost himself to the domestic bliss he shared with Eddie before he could figure what was going on.
Until one day, when Steve was helping Eddie paint some figurines for his next campaign, he realized that their lives had woven together so seamlessly that he could hardly pick them apart anymore.
"What do you think, Stevie?" Eddie held up a barb figurine for him to see.
Steve looked at the man he loved and huffed out a fond chuckle.
"Wanna share with the class what's on your mind, big boy?" Eddie arched a brow at him, eyes twinkling with mirth and joy.
Steve set down his brush on the tea table and tilted his head slightly, gazing at Eddie who mirrored his actions with a hint of anxiety.
"It's just..." Steve smiled and met those big chocolate eyes, feeling his melt a little more at the way Eddie gazed at him. "I think I love you, Ed."
Eddie didn't look surprised, he just leaned over to nuzzle their noses together, "I think so too, sweetheart."
"Yeah?" Steve wound his arms around Eddie's shoulders and fell back on the couch until the other man laid on top of him.
"Yeah," Eddie propped up to gaze down at him softly. "I also think we should kiss right now."
"Sounds like a good idea," Steve smiled in amusement.
"The best," Eddie murmured before his lips found their way to Steve's.
Just like how he had been able to find his way to Steve's heart many years ago.
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absolutebl · 9 months
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This Week in BL
June 2023 Wk 3 
Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. Organized by which ones (in each category) I’m enjoying most.
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Ongoing Series - Thai
Step By Step (Tues WeTV & Gaga) ep 9 of 12 - There sure is a lot of drinking in this show (who am I to talk?). Omg so awkward: The not-break-up not-confession. I have heartburn. Also I could not watch Jeng break down. Just nope. Then time jump? If that was our DOOM episode the timing is off. Or next week is the final? Or we get 3 eps of domestic bliss and sexitimes? I’m confused. 
La Pluie (Sat iQIYI) ep 9 of 10 - I like how trope-subversive this show is - first soulmates, then love triangle, now the faen fatal. NO SINGING. Oh good. They didn’t! Yay! So yeah I still love it. But I am also still a touch scared of where it might go. This one can’t be trusted. 
Be My Favorite (Fri YouTube) ep 5 of 12 - not a bad ep this week or was I too drunk to register nuance and damage? You decide. Trash watch here.
Luminous Solution (Sat Gaga) ep 5 of 6 - I always have to psyche myself up to watch this show, because I want to fast forward through most of it, but it’s on Gaga so that’s damn near impossible. At least this is the penultimate episode. I think after 3 BLs I can safely say Gun is just not a good actor. Speaking of... crying clothed in the shower? I haven’t seen that trope in years. But I LOVE the high school boys and their story so much. Love Sick level of earnest floppy goodness, I’m such a sucker for this kind of romance. I want them to be in a completely different BL. I’m so conflicted. I NEED this show to end so I can decide how I feel about it.
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Ongoing Series - Not Thai
Love Tractor (Korea Weds iQIYI) eps 5-6 of 8 - So much is happening, evil x-boyfriend shows up. We got flashbacks to coming-out drama + nasty dad (super unusual for a KBL). But baby’s first taste of desire is hilarious. This one is full of lovely contrasts, and contrasting life experiences. It’s all about support and neglect. 
Tokyo in April AKA Shigatsu no Tokyo wa (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 2 of 8 - Very much full of hero worship and giving me My Beautiful Man vibes (only softer and office set). “Dazzling” = always an interesting word when it comes up in JBL subs. It’s clearly a Japanese word/concept like kawaii  that is more complex than the English word being used. Meanwhile, this being Japan we get lots of hints as to separation and dark past events. 
Tie The Knot (prev Under the Same Sky) (Pinoy YouTube) eps 1-2 of 8 - From OXIN Films (Rainbow Prince), based on a true story (?!), Briggs's family runs a bridal business but he has never fallen in love until he meets a groom to be in an arranged marriage. EXACTLY the same premise at Mame’s forthcoming Wedding Planner. There are so many characters and prospective couples (including a v bi girl with a female fuck buddy, not seen that in a BL before) that it is a little hard to keep straight (heh). I’m sure it will shake out. It’s intriguing so far, if a touch silly. I actually like the arranged marriage premise because the two rich kids involved in it are so weirdly kind & platonically sweet to each other, even if they’re both on the same page about it only being for show. 
Vian the series (Vietnam YouTube ) ep 7 & 8 of 12 - Apparently there is very little difference between a cat and a demanding princess of a boyfriend. That clocks. Basically this was the dating times. 
Naked Dinner AKA Zenra Meshi (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 11 of 12 - There is a lot more meat to this silly little BL then I thought there would be given the premise, but it’s Japan so that’s as it should be. But, as it’s Japan there’s also a little too much cringe for me. I do enjoy how generous Japan is with late bloomers and I would def like to host a kimchi party  but otherwise... meh. 
Stupid Genius (Vietnam Fri YouTube) ep 3 of 6 - Bi erasure still alive and well I see. This one remains fine for VBL but no more than that.
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It’s airing but ...
House of Stars (Thai Mon iQIYI) 12 eps - I bounced at ep 3. Will binge if told it is worth it at end.
Stay (Pinoy YouTube) 7 eps - It’s mostly in English and set in LA so I’m not bothering but the first one did drop.
Ever After (Pinoy YouTube) - I investigated but as spies reported it's a real mess (not a hot one). Don’t bother. 
About Us but Not About Us (Pinoy Prime?) - from 2022 supposed to be finally getting inter distribution, didn’t show in my territory. A professor grieving the loss of his partner meets an ambitious literature student. I’m not fussed. 
Stay With Me ... NO! 
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In case you missed it
What Did You Eat Yesterday movie, BL Express posted a review. I’ve yet to get hold of it but if you enjoy Our Dining Table this is it’s grown up parent series & movie. 
Café in Love - I finally got around to watching this. And frankly it hits all the tropes but is so damn bad. The setting is cute, the central brotherly relationship is sweet, the side cast is v queer (baby gay has all these auntie queens catting about) and some complex bisexual awakenings but… but… everything else is a chemistry void. Some fun language wordplay and exploration of cultural tropes like cheek kissing does not save it from an unnecessary amount of punching  and a but ton of sexual harassment and statutory rape. No thank you. I had to rewatch Destiny Seeker to get over this. 3/10 
I gave up 
Takumi-kun Series 6: Nagai Nagai Monogatari no Hajimari no Asa (Japan Sun ????) 10 eps - NO ONE ASKED FOR THIS and no, I have no idea where to get it, why would I? Apparently it finished. I still can’t find it but it’ll be off this list next week.
Why You (Khmer ????) - Billed as a horror romance, not sure if this is a movie or a series where it aired... nothing except that it exists.
Next Week Looks Like This:
3 BLs are finishing but nothing is starting up. We running lean these days. 
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Just started today (Sunday): Dinosaur Love (Thai iQIYI) Trailer 10 eps - from Ultimate Troop about a uni student, Rak, whose partner cheats on him with Rak's best friend. This gives bad boy hazer Dino an opportunity to hit on Rak at last. From The Yearbook people so I shouldn’t watch this as it airs. After Remember Me? I swore never again with them. But there’s so little on right now, I might fall on the pulp sword. 
I’ll include it in next week’s summation. 
I’ll have the July 2023 upcoming for you next week too. 
2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED)
THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS
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I love him, Your Honor. (Be My Favorite... HIM, he’s my favorite.) 
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I love them, Your Honor. (Luminous Solution) 
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Watch a tiny GL ship set sail across the seas of overly optimistic tumblrs... (La Pluie)
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MY PRECIOUS! OMG I LOVE HER SO MUCH. (Tie the Knot) 
Incidentally, I would like a future as a dictatorial elder queer running a slightly shady business fleecing the straights via their dumb marriage traditions surrounded by nubile half-naked hotties.
And ya know what? I think this is achievable life goal for me. 
Gotta go, I have a future to plan. 
(Last week.)
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