#Hope it's okay when the setting is starting like that

[kisssukuna33]

Sukuna is the type of husband who NEEDS to hold you when he sleeps.

Before he started being in a relationship with you Sukuna had trouble finding sleep in most nights, probably due to his bad working routine and messy habits that got fixed after you came into his life. And now he can't sleep unless his wife is safely wrapped in his arms.

You could be watching TV after a day at work and Sukuna will come home next probably tired as hell and in need of a nap. He is quick to wrap his arms around your hips and gently take you into his arms as he carries you to the shared bedroom, Despite your endless protests asking him to take a shower first,

"Kuna you stink, go take a shower first"

"Calling your husband stinky? You wound me darling"

"Sukuna please.."

"Fine then, but we shower together"

"But I just showered-

"Too bad brat"

When it's time for sleep, he patiently waits till you're done with your skincare routine. And if you take way too much time for some reason, like your friend calling you at the last minute to spill the hot gossips of the day Sukuna is there to remind you he's ready and set for his bedtime by scoffing loudly enough for you to hear. Petty man.

Taking a pee at night? Grabbing a late night snack because you're hungry? Those are impossible to do without waking Sukuna up. The moment you sit up in the bed, he's already awake, grumbling in his sleep and asking what the hell are you doing before pulling you back to his arms.

That one time you managed to sneak out of the bed without waking Sukuna up. You mentally praised yourself for the victory as you snuck in to the kitchen to eat the last piece of the chocolate cake. Before you can even take 3 bites you hear footstep behind and when you turned to look, it's half awake and half asleep Sukuna with the blanket hanging by his hips like a toddler who ran out of their bedroom searching for their mom. He's scrutinizing his eyes at you, trying to figure out what the hell are you doing. Then he sees the chocolate cake and the icing around your lips and his face instantly takes a betrayed expression.

"Kuna-"

"So you left your husband, all alone, in this fucking cold weather just for chocolate cake?"

"We have a heater-"

"That's not the point, the point is how a chocolate cake worth more than your husband"

"okay now you're being dramatic"

"This is straight up gluttony"

"Sukuna!!"

It's gotten bad to the point where you can't even sleep one night away without feeling guilty because you know this man is wide awake and restless without you in the bed. Yet you wouldn't change a single thing. The way Sukuna's strong arms wrap around you, keeping you warm and safe while soft hum of his snores disappearing into the crook of your neck, it's everything you will ever need.

And you hope it never changes.

[murdrdocs]

it's faye and uh you mentioned something abt joaquín taking virginities? yeah 😌 i'm gonna need u to expand on that

well yes ofc

joaquín is genuinely shocked. he's sitting beside you, elbows pressed into his knees, his head cocked to the side as he looks at you. "seriously?"

you nod once. "yeah. seriously."

he leans back into the couch, spreading his legs and crossing his arms over his chest. staring off into the distance, blinking blankly, he lets out the tiniest wow and continues to exist in this stupor that he doesn't break out of until you giggle.

"why're you so—" you gesture vaguely with your hand, "about that?"

"no, i'm not trying to be rude or anything about it. i'm just shocked."

and things don't change immediately. briefly, you were worried that he would be oddly fragile with you after finding out, hold you at arms distance, overly ask for your permission to do things that you never had any trouble with doing before. but joaquín was still joaquín. things were still the same between you both, until you were standing in the center of your bedroom, chests pressed together, tension finally having come to a breaking point between both of you.

his hands aimlessly roam, fingers touching every single part of you even with your clothes on. and with your clothes off, it's ten times more glorious. laying back on your bed, completely at joaquín's mercy, you're letting him in on so many levels—letting him do what he thinks is best for your body, providing your input here and there. letting him alter the aura of your bedroom, letting him make a memory that you're sure you'll never forget.

obviously, he checks up on you throughout. either verbally through curt sentences that are easy to digest and even easier to answer ("this okay?" "like that?" "'m gonna go here, is that okay?"), or through little glances. he communicates so much through his eyes, you aren't even sure if he's aware. with his eyes lifted to look at you and his eyebrows raised as his fingertips glide through your folds, he's gauging your reaction but there's a sense of pride within there as well. when your breath hitches and you sit up on your elbows when he scissors your entrance open, he squints for barely a second as if a smile was going to start from his eyes.

then his dick comes out and you can see the cockiness descend onto him. pride in his eyes, a sly grin on his lips that tugs one side up higher than the other. he licks his lips and sits back on his haunches in front of you, the warmth from his hand resting on your knee slowly heating you up. you've seen his dick before, the two of you have done some things in the weeks between you telling him about your virginity and this, but seeing joaquín bare in this capacity is something new entirely. you're cold and nervous, goosebumps prominent on your skin.

"you wanna help me out here?" he's already hard. his cock is keeled over from its own weight, resting over a thick and corded thigh that you have got to sit on one day. but you still nod and scoot closer, spitting in your hand throughout the journey so by the time you're right in front of him you can just wrap your hand around the tip and glide your hand down his length.

joaquín sighs immediately upon contact, his head lolling to the side. the hand on your knee slides up to your thigh and then your back, his other hand resting on your jaw. he pulls your face closer to his, kissing you once and letting it linger before he speaks. "you ready?"

you nod, and after letting yourself indulge in the feeling of stroking him a couple more times, you lay back while he puts the condom on.

and you know what to expect. you've heard stories, good and bad. your expectations have been set at a comfortable spot, not too high or too low, but your experience with joaquín is still better than you could've hoped.

not just because of the way he physically fucks you, which is something you can quickly see yourself getting addicted to, but because of his demeanor throughout the entire thing. when he's using his hips to glide his cock in and out of you in a steady rhythm, reaching deeper and deeper each time, he has this manner about him that makes it obvious that he's enjoying himself even despite your inexperience and reliance on him. actually, you think he's enjoying himself so much because you’re relying on him.

joaquín is nothing if not a pleaser. he quite literally lives to making sure other people are safe and happy, it's his job and his self-proclaimed purpose in life. so this, fucking you for the very first time, and making sure your experience is as good as it could possibly be, is everything to him.

he's so obviously grateful that you're willing to share this with him. his forehead rests against yours at one point, your noses nudging, and you both just breathe together. it's so intimate, more intimate than you could've imagined.

there was a moment there, though, one where you can see the beginnings of joaquín losing himself. when you've loosened up completely, having gotten used to being opened up for him, and you were steadily being guided towards the edge, you asked him for more. no, you begged. and joaquín gave you just what you wanted.

his hips snapped with each drive, his movements sharper than they'd been throughout the entire ordeal. messily, he swiped across your clit with his thumb, pushing you closer and closer towards his goal and not straying far behind you. it was rougher, but not careless at all. you wanted more of that for another time, you wanted him to completely lose it with you. but for now, you completely reveled in the way joaquín gave you an orgasm, one that only began to fade when he stuffed his cock completely in you with one final shove, his pelvis notched against yours and his balls resting against your ass.

by the time you came down and everything was cleaned up, distantly, you were ready to do it again.

[pinkslipxox]

In Your Arms:

Summary: Billie comes home the studio frustrated

Warnings: fluff 🙈🥰

——————————————————————————

The living room is draped in a soft glow, the sun setting just outside the window, casting a golden hue over the stark white walls. You hum to yourself as you wipe off the remaining dust from the coffee table, your heart fluttering in anticipation for Billie’s impending return from the studio, the most eagerly awaited and cherished moment of your day. A warmth blooms within your chest at the thought of her arms wrapped around you, the sound of her melodic voice, her comforting scent— you couldn’t think of anything better to look forward to.

Just then, the front door bursts open, and in strides Billie, your sweet and loving girlfriend. Her expression is a whirlwind of frustration. You can almost feel the tension emanating from her as she kicks off her sneakers, her brows knitted together in a frown that would intimidate anyone else.

"Fuck!" she mutters, her voice laced with irritation, tossing her bag onto the nearby chair. Her frustrated expression softens only slightly when you looks at you for a brief second before she heads to the bedroom without another word.

Your heart aches at the sight of your Billie so tense. She’s been working harder recently, more than you’ve ever seen her do so, and you can only imagine how the day has been for her. You know how much she pours her heart and soul into her music, but sometimes the industry can be a nasty place, choking the fire in her.

Slowly, you open the door, and you’re greeting by the sight of Billie sat at the edge of the bed with her face buried in her hands. You can see the weight of the world on her shoulders, and your heart aches for her. Billie looks up, her ocean blue eyes filled with unshed tears, and she outstretches her arm out to you, a silent plea for your presence. You immediately go to her and sit down next to her.

“What happened, Billie?” you ask softly, wanting nothing more than to comfort the love of your life.

“It was a rough day,” Billie starts after a moment of silence, followed by a deep breath. “The deadlines… the lyrics… and Finneas, oh my God…” She slowly shakes her head, muttering something under her breathe before she continues, “It’s hard, Y/N, and it feels like I can’t catch a break.”

“Let’s take a bath together,” you suggest gently, offering a smile that you hope will reassure her. “It’ll help you relax.”

At your words, Billie’s expression softens slightly as she nods, a hint of gratitude breaking through her irritation.

“Alright, doll,” she whispers, her voice lower, almost vulnerable. You lead her to the bathroom, flicking on the warm water. The sensation of steam curling around you envelops both of you, soothing in its embrace.

Once the tub is filled with bubbles, you go to the kitchen and return with two glasses of wine, handing one to Billie before you both slip in. You position yourself behind Billie, your fingers instantly finding the tense muscles in her shoulders. Gently, you begin slowly to massage her skin.

“Just breathe, Bills. You’re always strong for everyone else; let me be strong for you,” you whisper, placing soft kisses along Billie’s neck.

Billie hums in pleasure. “Mmm, thats it, mama,” she sighs, leaning back into your embrace. You feel her relax against you, much to your own relief, and you can’t help the smile that spreads on your lips.

“It’s just, like, I wanna create, you know? But I feel like I’m constantly fighting,” Billie continues, and you can hear the vulnerability sneaking back in. You nod, letting her vent, tracing your fingers over her skin, reveling in the touch and warmth.

“I know, Billie. Just remember, you don’t have to fight all the time. I’m here to support you.” A soft smile breaks across your lips as you lean in, planting a tender kiss on her cheek.

Billie turns her head, kissing your lips gently, and you feel the love and the appreciation she has for you in the sweet gesture. Everything will be okay, even if it didn’t seem like it now. But here, together, the world and its troubles seem to fade away, leaving the two of you in the comfort of each other’s presence.

“You’re my comfort, pretty girl,” Billie murmurs, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Thank you for always being here.”

“Always, Billie, always,” you reply softly and pull her further into your embrace, right where she belongs.

[graceface1712]

Spoiling her

SoftRafexSweetPougePrincess

Summary: Sweet Pouge princess is too poor to afford stuff like a phone. So Rafe takes her out and buys her one. And maybe some other stuff

Warnings: None! Just fluff

Hope you enjoy! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊ *ੈ

“Ready to go?” Rafe asks Y/N.

“Yup!”

They both climb into his truck. He starts driving them over to the non-touristy section of OBX. There is a mall, stores, and a couple restaurants.

Rafe pulls into the mall parking lot. Y/N looks over at him confused.

“What are we doing here?” She asks him.

“We need to get a few things.” He says before getting out of his truck and quickly walking over to open her door. He stretches out his hand to her and she grabs it. They walk hand in hand into the mall.

Y/N has only ever been here a few times. And it was mainly because Kiara had money and wanted to buy some stuff and invited Y/N. But she didn't buy anything, just tagged along.

Rafe leads her through the mall before she finally sees where he must be heading. The Apple Store. Becoming more confused, she turns her head to Rafe’s. They walk in together.

“What are we doing here?” She asks him again.

“We’re buying you a phone.” Rafe says it's no big deal. Y/N’s mouth drops open.

“What! Rafe you can’t do this. We barely even know each other! This is our first date.” She tries to argue but Rafe is having nothing of it.

“Look I’m going to need a way to contact you that isn’t driving to your house all the time. This is the only option I could think of.” He says.

“But Rafe. These phones are so expensive! Why do you think I have never had one? And I can’t afford a phone bill every month!” Y/N keeps pressing as they walk around the store. Rafe doesn’t seem to be listening to her, just looking at the different colors and options.

“I will pay for it all. It won’t even make a scratch in my bank account sweetheart. Now please stop worrying. Look at this one, it’s your favorite color.” He points to a phone on display. It’s a baby pink. Absolutely gorgeous.

Y/N can feel herself cave when she sees the look in his eyes. He will not hear her say no. And this color is so beautiful.

“Alright, well that’s settled.” He calls over a sales person.

“Hello sir, how can I help you?” The associate asks.

“Hi. I’ll take this iPhone, at its best value. I’ll also take an iPad Air, in pink please. And to go with that, an Apple Pencil.” Rafe says. The associate nods along and disappears to grab the items.

“Why did you ask for a pink iPad?” Y/N asks.

“Because once you get your phone, watching streaming services and playing games are so much more fun on a bigger screen.” He says like it’s obvious.

Y/N gasps. “Rafe. Are you kidding me? The phone is already way more than needed.” She scolds him.

“I do not care. You are my girl. I’m going to spoil you. And a phone is necessary so you can call or text me whenever. The iPad is just for fun.” He shoots me a wink and the sales associate comes back with all the things in a bag.

We walk over to the counter and Rafe takes out his black Amex card to pay. I can’t even look at how much he’s spending right now, or else it will make me throw up.

Rafe thanks the associate and then grabs the bag along with my hand. Hut by the look on his face he isn’t done yet.

“Rafe please. This is more than enough for today. Thank you so much. But I don’t need you spending any more money on me.”

“Okay.” He says with a small pout on his lips.

We go home and helps me set everything up. Let’s just say I’m addicted to temple run now.

[deerspherestudios]

First of all, hello

What is Atom's love language?

I like the fingers referring to the characters' love language, It's very interesting.

(I apologize if something is not understood, English is not my native language)

Greetings from Mexico 🇲🇽, take care of yourself, eat and drink water in a healthy way please ^^

//RUBS HANDS THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME HERE IT IS 💜

This is about the most ✨self-indulgent✨ I can get with one of my characters because Atom is just about the BIGGEST simp there is among the cast. Here you go:

•┈••♡❤ Atom's Love Language(s) ❤♡••┈•

When you're on the receiving end; Mixed 🫴🎁💖

The thing with Atom is that it is entirely committed to returning the favor you did for them so long ago, like they said, "their kind answer action in spades."

And if that means providing every single whim your human heart desired, this could translate to offering both gifts and acts of service.

It is devoting it's entire being to that task (literally!) while you're staying on that ship.

I wish I could wax poetry here but it wants to be your vacuum cleaner, your Ford Cortina, your coffee pot, your leccy meter, your portable heater, your setting lotion. //lyr

You name it, Atom will become it!!

Nothing makes it happier than to pamper you like they strongly believe you should be for being their silver lining in darkness, their luna nova.

If Atom had the vocabulary to gush about you I would add words of affirmation here too. Alas, they only have themselves to give and hope you understand just how devoted they were to you for the rest of their life without saying it outright.

They just really really really love you, okay?

When it's on the receiving end; Physical Touch 🫂💕

Boy, where do I start! Touchstarved lads you're in for a treat.

It can't can't can't get the feeling of your gloves enclosing it so gently all those months ago out of its mindddd.

They wish to replicate that feeling by touching you anytime they can. Absolutely fascinated with your hands, in complete awe these were the ones that brought it to safety. They are nuzzling against your palms as we speak!

It's fully aware most humans get the ick when it comes to touching worms so while they wish they could touch you directly, most of the time it'll stay inside the suit.

It can sense touch from any part of the suit, so their helmet, gloves, boots, soles even, anywhere really.

They go bonkers for a headpat, go insane for a little peck on the glass of their helm. Hug them and they might implode.

If you're touch-averse, it'll try to respect it but they're gonna be vibrating from restrained effort the entire time sorry.

To the point if they're desperate, they'll just end up with tunnel vision on your presence at all times since they can feel through the ship, hyperfixating on the weight of your boots against the metal grating if they have to, literally worshipping you at your feet.

Overall their favorite activity is cuddling for sure and if you reciprocate, you'll find that they are very compact and huggable, 10/10.

In my deranged moments I've always wondered what it's like to hug the Michelin man and I think hugging Atom will feel similar.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[moonstruckme]

Inspired by this adorable fic by @inkdrinkerworld <3

cw: hospital, mention of surgery, reader has a fear of anesthesia/being unconscious

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 940 words

You wish that stupid heart monitor would stop exposing you to everyone in the hospital wing. 

“You’re fine.” James rubs his palm over your heart consolingly. “Deep breaths.” 

You inhale, and he does it with you, you feel his chest expand against your back. James got into bed with you soon after you got here, when you wouldn’t stop trying to get up and pace the room. After your IV was put in, Sirius threatened to sit on you if you tried to get out of bed again. James is a nicer compromise. 

“This is so stupid.” Your exhale comes out in a disbelieving huff. “I don’t even have to do this.” 

“Dove, you’re already here,” Remus reasons. “You’ve come this far, let’s just see it through. You’ll be alright.” 

Truly, you’re not sure how you wound up here. When your doctor recommended you for surgery, you said you’d think about it, but you were lying. You knew it, your boyfriends knew it, your doctor probably knew it too. Going under was something you had no intention of ever, ever doing. You didn’t know if the problems you were having would persist without the recommended procedure. You almost didn’t care. The one thing you knew for absolutely sure was that you did not want it to happen. 

And yet, it began to. All it took was one evening of lovingly made hot cocoa and sweet-talking from James to get you to set up the appointment. From there, the date marched continually closer, and all your boyfriends had to do was keep you from backing out. To their credit, they’ve had extraordinary follow through. Suddenly you find yourself in a hospital bed waiting for a surgery you could swear wasn’t going to happen. 

“You don’t even have to stay the night,” Sirius says. He’s sitting cross-legged in one of the chairs against the wall, undeterred by the plastic arm digging into his thigh. “We’ll have you home by dinnertime. Focus on that, doll.” 

“I want to be home now,” you mumble. You know you’re acting childish, but you’d rather gripe than cry, and the way you’re feeling those are your only two options. “Are we sure I can’t be awake?” 

“You don’t want to be awake.” James kisses behind your ear. “It’s quite bloody. You’d think it was gross.” 

“Don’t scare her,” Remus cautions quietly. 

You talk over him. “I’d rather be grossed out and know what was happening.” 

Sirius leans forward to grasp your hand, shushing you. “You already know what’s going to happen, baby. We’ve been over the whole thing. Do you want to hear it again?” 

“No.” In truth, hearing about the procedure had grossed you out. But that’s not your main issue. Tears prick your eyes. 

“Hey,” Sirius says softly. His thumb runs over your knuckles. “You’re okay. You’re going to be just fine. Home by dinner, remember?” 

“I just… “ You pull in a wavering breath. “I really don’t like the idea of being unconscious while people poke and prod at me, and I can’t wake up. It freaks me out.”

“No one is going to poke or prod at you.” Remus is leaning his forearms on his knees, eyes honey soft. “It’s a routine procedure. They do it all the time, it’s their job.” 

“I’d just feel better if I could be awake.” 

“It’d be so much scarier if you were awake. This way, you only go to sleep, and the next thing you know it’s done.” 

“That’s the worst part, though. It’s not like I can wake up even if I want to. I’ll be completely helpless.” 

“Sweetheart, no one is going to hurt you.” 

“I know that.” 

“Are you sure?” he asks gently. 

You shut your eyes, tipping your face down as tears start to drip from your nose. 

“Baby,” Sirius coos. His fingers feel cool against your cheek, cupping so he can kiss between your brows. James hugs you tighter. “Oh, shh, shh. I’m sorry you’re so scared, sweet girl. It’s really not so bad as you’re thinking.” 

“Can you come with me?” you whisper. It’s not the first time you’ve asked, but you’re hoping this display of obvious patheticness will sway things in your favor. 

“You know we would if we could, doll. They’re really strict about who’s allowed in the room.” 

You nod, taking in a ragged breath. 

“We’ll be with you until you go in,” James offers, “and as soon as you wake up. You’ll get to meet your anesthesiologist before, too. Her name’s Kara, she’s a sweetheart.” 

That James knows the person trusted with putting you out does comfort you some. He pats your chest with his hand over your heart, gentle and rhythmic. Slowly, it lulls yours into complaisance. Your heart monitor stops its ratcheting. 

“Breathe.” James exhales slowly. “We won’t let anything happen to you. You’re in good hands, angel, I promise.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, opening your sore eyes. “I know I’m being crazy.” 

Sirius is squatting by your bed now. He tuts, quick to right you. “You don’t have to be sorry. You’re scared, it’s fine. I wish you weren’t because it’d be easier for you, but it’s not your fault.” 

“You’ll feel better once you’re in there,” Remus promises. “Really, lovely, it’s so much less daunting than you’re imagining it to be. It’s going to go by so easily. And then we’ll be with you, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you sniffle. 

“What do you think?” James presses his cheek to your ear, pleasantly warm. “You think you can go an hour without us? You’ll be okay?” 

You make a low, reluctant sound. “Maybe.” 

“There’s our girl.”

[hanniescookie]

is it that hard? - jww

pairing - wonwoo x f! reader

genre - fluff, idol au

warnings - none

summary - you know wonwoo likes you, but for some reason, he doesn't say it. not until you're frustrated enough to play a game on him.

author's note - kekekeke @wonkierideul // this is for you my mochi cheek-ed baby!! i hope you like it 😭 i tried, okay? i just hope it makes you smile at least, you're so dear to me my oomf (pls remind me again what it means) may you fulfill your MUA dream one day and may you get to doll wonu up 🤍 love you sm :)

-------------------------**~~**--------------------------

Being a successful makeup artist had been your dream since you were a teenager. Your love for makeup only grew with your age, and you made yourself proud after finally landing your dream job.

Being Jeon Wonwoo's makeup artist, however, was certainly not your dream. It might be a privilege, never been a dream.

It isn't that you mind seeing his beautiful face every other day while you doll it up with makeup that suits his outfit of the day. Never that. It's just that you're always too distracted to focus on your job. And Wonwoo doesn't help.

It falls out of your realm of professionalism. You've never been someone who struggles with balancing your personal and professional life, but with this man? You're terrible. Miserable.

He is too good looking for his own good, and being so close to his face half the time serves you no good. It takes everything in you to not just kiss his lips everytime you swipe some lipstick across them.

Wonwoo is not very expressive — that's a known fact. But what people might not know is that Wonwoo is a tease, a little close to a flirt. At least towards you, he is.

You hate how he licks his lips right after you're done applying lipstick just to make your job harder. What's worse is that he does it with a straight face, muttering an aplogy within a second like he didn't realize what he just did.

But you have seen it far too much to know that he does these things deliberately. You don't know if he likes seeing the huff of annoyance you let out, or if he just genuinely hates you.

Either way, you've decided that your work ethics have been compromised enough. You don't like these feelings you've harbored for the idol overtime, and if nothing is down the drain, you'll take your shot today.

When Wonwoo arrives on set an hour before his schedule, you're glad that the whole group isn't here. It's his solo schedule for the day — a photoshoot for his brand deal.

The look for today has to be a little bold, and requires more time than usual. So you start slow, focused on work and trying your best to make him look exactly like the concept demands.

And you're also focused on another task today.

"I'm quitting." You say as nonchalantly as you can, dabbing some concealer to hide a tiny acne mark on his skin.

"Huh?" He raises his brows, unsure if you talked to him.

You meet his eyes for a few seconds before focusing back on his cheek, watching the acne mark slowly disappear. You hope your game plan can work, and if it doesn't, then you're really never seeing this place again. "I said I'm quitting this job."

He continues to look at your face while you turn back to the vanity, fumbling through some eyeshadow palettes. Your heart is throbbing at the weight of his gaze, but you keep going. "I'm telling you because I know you don't get used to changes easily. You'll be more prepared when you see another MUA starting tomorrow."

You turn back, meeting his surprised gaze and you smile a little. "Close your eyes."

He takes a little while to process what you said, and you gladly wait till he does. You can see the effect of your game, and you like it so far.

He closes his eyes slowly, exhaling through his nose. It's quiet for a while till you play with a combination of two dark shades on his eyelids.

"Must you leave?"

You almost don't catch it with how quietly he speaks. Keeping the palette away, you stare at his face with his eyes closed, his question echoing in your head. Your heart swells, and a smile forms on your face. "Did you say something?"

He mutters a quiet no without opening his eyes. You know he's doing it because you haven't asked him to open them yet, and involuntarily, you feel a flutter in your chest. Usually, he would open them before you're even done, but right now he's trying to not upset you. How cute.

"I heard you, though." You say again, leaning against the vanity with your arms folded. He slowly opens his eyes, looking at you with eyes full of uncertainty. "Do you have an answer then?"

"Must I leave?" You echo his question, humming thoughtfully. "Good question. The problem is—" you pause, grabbing an eyepencil and leaning down on him. He instinctively closes his eyes, and you smile. "—that my professionalism is threatened here. I can't properly focus on my work with you, Wonwoo."

His eyes snap open before you're even done lining the pencil on his eyelid, earning a sharp wince from you. "See! This is what I mean."

"Sorry," he breathes. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"I don't know," you say, folding your arms neatly once again. "You tell me."

He stares at you blankly for a while, unable to pinpoint exactly where you're coming from. Then his expression shifts, as if he's reminded of something. "Scratch that. Just don't quit?"

You arch an eyebrow despite the little victory dance your insides do at his statement. "Hm? Why?"

"Because—" he pauses, trying to find words. "Because like you said, I'm not good with accepting changes. I am used to you."

You sigh, shaking your head. "Is it that hard?"

"What?"

"Saying the truth."

"What truth?"

"That you like me."

Suddenly, there's pin drop silence in the makeup room. Even the humming of the aircon feels distant, as if coming from a faraway land. All you can hear is your own pulse beating wildly in your ears.

Then with calculated certainty, Wonwoo speaks. "It is."

You feel your throat running dry, and though you know you orchestrated this little game, you have no idea why you're nervous. Do you like him that much?

"But if I say it Y/N, will you stay?"

You can't help but smile. He's cute, and you'll do anything to make him happy. You nod. "I will."

He inhales a mouthful of air, and deeply exhales it all. Licking his dry lips, he looks up in your eyes, taking your hand in his large one hesitantly.

"I like you." He says, as quiet as the room. "I've liked you since the day you first put an insane amount of blush on my cheeks and I complained about looking cute. Please don't quit on me."

You've known that Wonwoo likes you, but nothing could've prepared you for the way he admits it in his low voice while holding your hand gently. You feel your pulse quickening even more if it's possible, and a blush dusts your cheeks.

"You did look cute, though."

"I didn't want to!" He groans, and you end up giggling. He sighs then, smiling along with you nevertheless. "Is that what you say to my confession?"

You shrug, grabbing a lipstick and turning to him. "If you don't mess your lipstick up this time, I'll think about going on a date with you."

He smiles, fingers hooking in yours to tug you closer. You lean closer to him as a result, eyes widening slightly. "Whatever happened to professionalism now?"

"I can compromise a little if I get a boyfriend as handsome as Jeon Wonwoo." You answer, poking his forehead so his head rests back before you begin applying lipstick on his lips.

He does mess his lipstick after your first attempt, and it leads to you kissing him, but you go on a date with him on the weekend anyway.

[meinii]

hellloo!!! can i request a girl/boy/twindad!Caldb? i love your work btwww!! ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)♡

“twin dad Caleb”

hi anon! tysm for your requestꈍᴗꈍ I hope you like this!

content: fluff, two babies!

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

Caleb had been through countless high-stakes situations in his life—piloting through storms, outrunning enemy fire, and navigating through deep-space turbulence. but nothing, nothing, compared to the chaos of having twin babies

"alright, alright—one at a time!" Caleb pleaded as he held a bottle in one hand and tried to balance his son, who was currently clinging to his shoulder like a tiny, stubborn koala. his daughter, meanwhile, was lying in your arms, sleepily gripping onto your fingers

you laughed, watching him struggle "you were so confident about handling two at once earlier"

Caleb shot you a look over his son’s head "listen, I’ve flown through storms, and I still think this is harder"

your son babbled something incoherent, tiny hands patting Caleb’s cheek

Caleb sighed dramatically "at least my co-pilot here agrees"

your daughter let out a soft giggle, curling up against you

Caleb glanced at the little girl in your arms, his eyes softening

"she’s definitely your kid," he muttered "look at her. so calm, just like you"

you smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead

"and he’s all yours" you teased, nodding toward your son, who had now latched onto Caleb’s jacket zipper with an iron grip

Caleb chuckled, shifting his son into a more comfortable position "yeah, well, can you blame him? I’m pretty great"

your son squealed in agreement, making Caleb grin

_

Caleb had been waiting months for this moment

the tiny pilot uniforms had arrived in the mail weeks ago, but today, he finally had the chance to put them on the twins. you watched, amused, as he carefully dressed them—handling them as if they were made of glass

"okay, little guy, arms up" he instructed, slipping his son’s tiny arms into the miniature flight jacket, just like Caleb’s real one.

his son let out a delighted squeal, kicking his legs excitedly

meanwhile, you were helping your daughter into her own uniform—hers a tiny replica of Caleb’s official pilot attire, complete with a name patch that read “CAPTAIN [HER NAME]”

when both twins were finally dressed, Caleb stepped back, taking in the sight with the proudest grin imaginable

"look at them!" he said, hands on his hips "future pilots for sure"

you raised an eyebrow "they can’t even walk yet"

Caleb scoffed "details, details. walking is just pre-flight training"

your son babbled in response, clapping his hands

"see? he gets it"

you chuckled, shaking your head as Caleb lifted both babies up into his arms, making them “fly" around the room while they giggled

_

building legos with babies was a mistake.

or at least, that’s what Caleb realized after the twins immediately tried to eat the pieces.

"hey, hey, nope—not for chewing" Caleb said, gently prying a lego block from his son's mouth.

you sat beside your daughter, who was far more interested in watching than participating, her big eyes blinking up at you as you held a piece in front of her "here, sweetheart, try putting this one on top."

she grabbed the block with her chubby little fingers and smacked it against the tower Caleb was building. it immediately fell apart

Caleb groaned dramatically, clutching his chest "betrayal!"

your daughter giggled at his reaction, reaching for another block—only to throw it at her brother instead

"oh, we’re starting fights now?" Caleb teased, setting down his son to sit between you both. "okay, okay—new plan. mommy and daddy build, and you two supervise"

your son clapped his hands

your daughter grabbed a block and tried to chew on it again

"close enough" you said with a laugh

Caleb sighed, kissing the top of her head "one day, kiddo, I’m gonna teach you how to build the best damn spaceship out of legos"

your daughter responded by drooling on his sleeve.

Caleb winced "great. Thanks for that, sweetheart"

you laughed "consider it a pilot’s initiation."

_

Caleb loved bedtime.

it was one of the rare times the twins were calm, and he cherished every moment of it

tonight, he was sitting on the rocking chair in the nursery, both babies bundled up in their matching star-patterned onesies. your son was in his arms, already dozing off, while your daughter was nestled against your chest, blinking sleepily

"alright, little co-pilots," Caleb murmured, adjusting the book in his lap "tonight’s story is about the bravest little pilots in the galaxy"

you smiled, settling beside him on the chair "that sounds familiar."

Caleb smirked "it should. I wrote it."

your daughter let out a tiny yawn, curling up against you

Caleb began reading in a soft, steady voice, his hand gently rubbing your son’s back as he spoke

"once upon a time, in a sky filled with endless stars, there were two little pilots—strong, smart, and brave…"

as he continued, you felt your daughter’s breathing slow, her tiny fingers still curled around your sleeve. Your son shifted slightly in Caleb’s arms, then let out a deep sigh, completely relaxed

by the time Caleb finished the story, both twins were fast asleep

he let out a quiet breath, pressing a soft kiss to his son’s forehead before glancing at you. his expression was filled with so much warmth it made your heart ache

"can you believe we made them?" he whispered

you smiled, brushing a gentle hand over your daughter’s soft hair."yeah. pretty amazing, huh?"

Caleb’s gaze softened even more as he leaned over, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips

"yeah," he murmured "the best thing I’ve ever done"

[spencessocks]

bucky AND spencer??!!! are you my brain? my brain has a tumblr? but seriously im so happy you exist.

i was originally coming to say how in ‘through the silence’ the theme and the conversation could be the same (okay maybe just similar) with post prison spencer x reader and how he is trying to get back to reality and leave prison behind

love you xx

a/n: omfg what... im literally going to eat ur face... this sort of got a little longer than i intended and it took me a while because i was busy with work so im sorry!😭😭 but thank u so much omg i was reeling from this ask, ur so sweet and ilysm!!!

what remains

summary: after spencer returns from prison, the trauma he endured drives a wedge between him and the one person who loves him most.

pairing: postprison!spencer reid x reader

wordcount: 6.8k

warnings: sad spencer, sad reader, everyones sad, reader drinks like a sip of wine

the apartment is quiet when spencer walks in. it’s late—again. you don’t know where he goes, but he never offers, and you’ve stopped asking.

he drops his keys onto the counter with a dull clink, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion, and you watch from your place on the couch, heart aching at the sight of him. he looks different now. he's been home for months, but the man who walked through your door after prison isn’t the same one who left.

“hey,” you say gently, closing your book and setting it aside.

he glances at you but doesn’t hold your gaze for long. “hey.”

you swallow down the lump in your throat. “did you eat?”

“i'm not hungry.” his answer is clipped, automatic, the same response he’s given you almost every night since he’s been back.

you knew it wouldn’t be easy. that things would be different and he wouldn’t be the same. you had told yourself that over and over in the days leading up to his return, had braced yourself for the changes.

but you'd had hope—hope that, with time, things would settle. that he would come back to you—not just physically, but in the ways that mattered. that he would find his way back to the man he used to be, the man who used to curl up beside you on the couch, rambling about his latest case or a book he was reading. the man who used to laugh, used to smile, used to pull you into his arms like you were the safest place in the world.

but you had underestimated the impression this whole ordeal would leave on him.

it wasn't just in the way he carried himself, the way exhaustion clung to his frame or how the light in his eyes had dimmed. it was deeper than that. it was in the way he recoiled from touch when he used to seek it, in the way his voice lacked the excitement and curiosity it once held. in the distance that stretched between you, widening a little more each day, despite your best efforts to close it.

prison had carved something out of him, something you weren’t sure could ever be replaced. he had been home for months, but a harsh reality was starting to settle in you—that some wounds don’t heal the way you expect them to. some stay raw, lingering beneath the surface, invisible until they make themselves known in quiet moments—in the silence at the dinner table, in the way he avoids your gaze, in the way he flinches at your touch, in the walls he keeps building no matter how hard you try to tear them down.

he didn’t talk about what happened in there, and you didn’t press—even if sometimes curiosity clawed at you. but every laconic response, every empty stare, every night he disappeared without explanation told you more than words ever could. he was still there, trapped in a place you couldn’t seem to reach, and no matter how badly you wanted to, you weren’t sure you ever would.

you exhale slowly, measuring your words before speaking. "spencer, you know what i'm going to say." your voice is soft, careful, but it still makes him flinch, just barely.

"i'm fine," he mutters, turning away from you.

you hesitate, just for a moment, before the words slip out. a quiet, almost embarrassed whisper in the stillness of the room.

"will you at least sit with me for a little while?"

you regret the question the second it leaves your mouth, second-guessing yourself as soon as the vulnerability hits you. it sounds so small, so simple—sit with me, like it’s not asking for much, but in a way, it feels like you’re begging. you feel humiliation crawl up your neck.

"we don't have to talk," you add quickly, trying to soften the weight of your words. "we can just—"

"i'm tired," he interrupts, voice hollow. he’s already moving toward the bedroom, like he can't get away fast enough.

you stare blanky at him, his back already turned to you. you don't say anything. you can't. the words get stuck somewhere in your throat, tangled up with the shock and the sting of his dismissal. you just sit there, still as stone, the weight of his words settling over you like a thick, suffocating fog.

it shouldn't surprise you—this response, this distance, the way he shuts you out without a second thought. it’s been happening for weeks now, a slow unraveling of something that once felt unbreakable. and yet, it does surprise you.

because you still hoped—that he would just sit with you. that it couldn't possibly be that bad that your own husband couldn't sit on the the same goddamn couch as you.

you don’t know if your lack of response matters. maybe it does. maybe that’s why he hesitates in the doorway, fingers gripping the frame as if he's weighing his options. for a second, you think he might turn around, might give you something—anything. but then, just as quickly, he lets go and disappears into the darkness of the bedroom.

you sit there, motionless, as the door to the bedroom clicks shut behind him. the sound feels final, sharp.

the interaction plays in your head. "i'm tired."

the look on his face—or the lack of one. there’s nothing there. no fight, no frustration, not even the faintest trace of a desire to make things right.

you blink, once, twice, trying to shake the fog from your brain, but the shock is still there, thick in your chest. it’s like a pulse, steady and unrelenting, buzzing through your veins. you don’t know what to do with it. how to process it.

at this point, you can hardly recognize yourself. the person you used to be—before all this. you would have never let spencer walk away from that. you would’ve confronted him, spoken your truth, demanded that he listen. you were an opinionated person, it wasn't like you to let someone walk over you—spencer liked that about you. you would’ve never felt embarrassed by something so simple, so vulnerable, said to the man you loved.

the anger bubbles up, creeping through the shock like a slow poison, and suddenly, your skin feels tight. it feels wrong. how dare he? how can he just walk away, leave you in this empty room, in this awful, suffocating silence, after everything you’ve been through together?

surely, you wouldn't do this to him. that thought had crossed your mind before, only to be quickly pushed away by the reminder that you couldn't possibly know what he was going through—what he felt in that place.

but now, the thought clung to you, insistent, refusing to be ignored and with it came another. maybe he didn’t know how to let go of you—maybe he was too afraid to say the words, so instead, he kept hurting you without even realizing it. maybe he thought pulling away was easier than facing the truth. if the roles were reversed, you'd seek him out, wanting his comfort, his presence. so why wasn't he doing the same for you? why was he so unwilling to lean on you—when he had done it a million times before?

the pulse in your neck quickens, blood rushing, and you grip the edge of the couch, knuckles white. you don't even realize you're standing now, the instinct to do something, anything, pushing you forward. your breath comes quick and shallow as frustration and disbelief twist inside you like a knot that you can't untangle.

what are you supposed to do with this? what are you supposed to do when your own husband looks at you like you’re nothing—like you’re some kind of inconvenience he just can’t deal with tonight?

your body moves on its own, your legs carrying you to the door as if they have a will of their own—pyjamas and slippers be damned—the front door slams shut behind you with an almost violent finality. the apartment feels suffocating now, the weight of his absence, of his rejection, too much to bear. you need to leave.

you don’t bother to grab your phone. what would be the point? there’s nothing to say to him anymore—if he would even call. not when you’re standing on the edge of something you can’t even explain to yourself, a frustration and sadness mixing into something unrecognizable.

you walk fast, too fast, the cold air biting at your skin, and it helps. the briskness of the night, the sting of it, gives you a sense of purpose, something to focus on other than the gnawing emptiness inside you. you don’t want to sit in that silence any longer, don’t want to stew in your thoughts, trapped in that apartment where the echoes of your broken attempts at connection are suffocating.

jj’s place isn’t far—just a few blocks—but it might as well be a world away. the walk feels like an eternity, but it’s the only thing you can control right now. you don't have to think about spencer. you don’t have to think about him.

you find yourself at jj’s door, your breath coming out in white clouds, and for the first time tonight, you feel a brief flicker of something approaching relief. you knock twice, hard, before pulling back and pressing your forehead against the doorframe, closing your eyes, letting the coolness of it ground you. what the hell am i doing?

when she opens the door, her eyes widen at the sight of you, but she doesn’t ask. she doesn’t need to. she just steps aside, pulling you in with a soft, understanding smile.

“you okay?” she asks gently, though you know she already knows the answer.

you nod, but only because you don't trust your voice not to break if you speak. she doesn’t push, just closes the door behind you and leads you to the couch. you sit without a word, leaning back against the cushions, closing your eyes, and for the first time in what feels like months, you let yourself breathe.

jj moves toward the kitchen without a word, and you hear the familiar sound of glasses clinking, followed by the admittedly soothing pour of wine. she returns with a glass in each hand, her expression knowing. she hands you one and sits down beside you, settling into the cushions with the kind of ease that makes you wish you could do the same.

"talk to me,” she says, her voice quiet, but firm enough to break the silence that’s settled between you. it’s not a question, really—more like a gentle command, the kind that only someone who knows you can give.

you let out a breath, leaning back into the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment, unsure where to even begin. everything feels like a mess. but her presence, her calm, makes you feel like you might find the strength to sort it out.

“spencer—" you stop yourself, the words catching in your throat. you shake your head, a laugh escaping your lips at the disbelief of your situation. "i don’t even know what to say anymore. i don’t know how we got here. it’s like i don’t even know who he is anymore.”

jj listens, her eyes steady, her hands wrapped around her own glass, but her gaze never wavers. she’s waiting. you know she won’t interrupt.

“i thought... i thought he’d come back to me, you know?” the words slip out before you can stop them, and the sadness that follows hits you harder than anything before. “i thought, with time, things would get better. that i could get him back, the way he was. but... it’s like he’s not even here anymore. i don’t know how to reach him. and when i try, it feels like he just shuts me out more.”

you swallow hard, feeling a sharp sting behind your eyes. it feels pathetic, but you can’t stop it now. you can’t stop the flood of everything that’s been building up, everything you’ve been trying to ignore.

“he’s gone, jj. and i don’t know how to be with someone who’s... not really here,” you say, your voice breaking on the last word.

jj doesn’t say anything at first, just lets you breathe, lets you sit with it for a moment. “i know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but he’s not gone. he’s just... changed. and change is hard. for both of you.”

you scoff softly, shaking your head. “i feel like i'm going crazy."

jj watches you carefully, her gaze unwavering as she processes your words. you feel exhausted—physically, emotionally—like the weight of the past few months has finally settled on your shoulders all at once.

jj studies you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. then, she exhales, setting her wine glass down on the coffee table. “you’re not crazy,” she says simply. “you’re grieving.”

that catches you off guard. you blink at her. “grieving?”

she nods. “yeah. you’re grieving the life you had before. the spencer you had before.” she pauses. “and maybe... the version of yourself that existed before all this.”

you open your mouth, but no words come out. you want to argue, to tell her it’s not that simple, that you’re not mourning spencer like he’s some lost cause, but—god—doesn’t it feel like that sometimes? doesn’t it feel like the person you knew, the person you loved, is slipping further and further away?

jj sighs, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “i know what it’s like to watch someone you love disappear into themselves. to feel helpless while they struggle with something you can’t fix.” her voice is softer now, careful, like she’s walking a tightrope. “it’s terrifying.”

your fingers tighten around your wine glass. “so what do i do?” the question comes out more fragile than you want it to, barely above a whisper.

she’s quiet for a moment, thinking. “you—" her words are interrupted by an abrupt sound. jj’s phone is ringing, sharp and sudden in the quiet of the room. you flinch, your heart leaping into your throat before you even see the name on the screen. but you already know.

spencer.

panic grips you, fast and unrelenting, and before you can think, the words spill out. “don’t answer it.”

jj hesitates, glancing at the phone on the coffee table. the screen glows with his name, the sound vibrating between you like a living thing. “he’s your husband,” she says gently, but her fingers hover over the screen instead of answering.

“i don’t care,” you whisper, shaking your head. “please, jj. don’t.”

she studies you, eyes flicking over your face like she’s trying to gauge just how serious you are. if she picks up, you’ll have to hear him—his voice, his clipped tone, his inevitable question: where are you? and what then? you don’t have an answer.

jj sighs, silencing the call but not declining it. the ringing stops, but the silence that follows is almost worse.

“you know he’s worried,” she says carefully. “you left without your phone. you think he’s just going to let that go?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping your glass like it’s the only thing tethering you to the moment. “i don’t know,” you admit. “i just—I can’t do this right now. fuck.”

jj shifts closer, her voice calm but firm. “running won’t fix this.”

you let out a short, bitter laugh. “staying hasn't."

she doesn’t have an answer for that.

jj watches you carefully, then sighs. “stay here as long as you need. but at some point, you have to decide—are you going home? or are you walking away?”

your arm is moving suddenly, the wine glass at your lips. her words settle over you like a weight. and for the first time, you realize—you don’t know.

jj's phone buzzes again, and you flinch at the sight of spencer’s name lighting up the screen. the call goes to voicemail, and for a few seconds, there’s nothing but silence.

the phone rings a second time. you can almost hear spencer’s voice in your head, the exact tone he always takes when he doesn’t know what to say.

“I’ll answer it,” jj says softly, but the words feel like a concession rather than a promise. she picks up the phone, and her thumb hovers over the screen.

you don’t stop her, but you wish you could. you wish you could shut everything down, turn it all off.

“spencer?” jj says, her voice calm, controlled.

you close your eyes, hearing his voice crackle through the speaker.

“jj... is she there?” spencer’s voice sounds worn, tight with something just beneath the surface. you can hear the familiar threads of guilt and concern tangled in his words. “i—i don’t know where she went. she just… she left without saying anything.”

jj looks at you, her expression unreadable. you can feel the heat of her stare on you.

“yeah, she's here.” jj finally responds, her words careful. “but she's not ready to talk to you right now, spencer.”

a long pause follows. you can hear spencer’s breath, shallow, like he’s holding something back.

“i just... i just need to know she's okay,” he says, the frustration and desperation clear in his voice. “please.”

you wince at the pleading in his words. it cuts through you in a way you hadn’t expected.

jj looks at you, her expression unreadable, before she glances down at the phone again. you can feel the heat of her stare on you.

“she’s fine,” jj says, with a note of finality. “but I think you need to give her some time. she’s been through a lot, spencer. you both have.”

“time?” Spencer’s voice cracks. “jj, i don’t—“

but she cuts him off. “i’m not getting in the middle of this. just... take care of yourself for now, okay? you’ll talk when she’s ready. she’ll come back when she’s ready.”

the phone goes silent for a moment, and then the faint click of the line disconnecting. jj pulls the phone away from her ear and sets it down on the coffee table with a soft sigh.

jj sits back, her gaze still trained on you, like she’s waiting for something.

the silence in the room feels heavier now. It presses against your chest, and the weight of it makes your thoughts swirl faster than they should. spencer’s voice still echoes in your mind—i just need to know she's okay. you don’t want to admit it, but the desperation in his words cuts deeper than you anticipated. you don’t want to feel guilty. but it settles over you, thick and unavoidable, as you sit on jj’s couch, the comfort of her presence fading into the background.

“he sounded worried,” you murmur, more to yourself than to jj.

she nods, watching you carefully. “of course he’s worried.”

you press your lips together, exhaling slowly. “i didn’t think he’d care that much.” the words taste bitter on your tongue, because the truth is, you had wanted him to care. you had wanted him to call, to ask where you were, to prove—at least to himself—that there was still something left between you worth saving.

and he did.

he did.

but now, sitting here, away from him, away from that apartment, the weight of your actions starts creeping in, cold and insidious.

you left.

you walked out without a word.

you knew what it was like to feel abandoned, to reach for someone and find nothing but empty space. and now you’ve done the same to him.

the realization makes your chest tighten, and suddenly, the fight, the frustration, the resentment—it all feels distant, overshadowed by something heavier. something closer to shame.

jj shifts beside you, her voice quiet but knowing. “you’re thinking about going back.”

you shake your head quickly. “i don’t know.” but it’s a lie. you do know.

you inhale sharply, pressing your palm to your forehead, trying to ground yourself. “god, what am I doing, jj?”

“you’re allowed to feel this, you know,” she says simply. “you’re allowed to be angry. to be hurt. to need space.”

you swallow hard, blinking down at your hands. they feel foreign to you, like they belong to someone else. “i just—” you hesitate, voice cracking slightly. “i just got so mad. he was so dismissive of me, and i couldn't be there anymore.”

“i know.”

you stare down at your lap, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your sweater.

you shake your head, guilt curling in your chest. “but that’s not me, jj. that’s not who I am. i don’t just… walk away. i got angry and i overreacted.”

she sighs. “one moment doesn't define you. things are different now. you've never been in a situation like this before,” she pauses. “sometimes you have to walk away, to get your thoughts in order."

"it would've been worse if you blew up at him." she added.

"i think i still might." you said with a dry laugh.

jj smiled slightly, her gaze softening as she leaned back, “you’ve always been the one to hold things together,” she said, her voice gentle but firm, as if trying to remind you that it was okay to break sometimes. “but you can’t hold it all in forever. and sometimes… sometimes you need space to breathe, to think. you don’t always have to be the strong one.”

you let out a breath, unsure of what to say next. jj was always good at cutting through the noise, but the guilt still sat heavily in your chest. you couldn’t escape the feeling that walking away—no matter how much you needed to—had been the wrong choice.

jj watches you for a moment, then leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “listen, i know it feels like you did something wrong by leaving, but you didn’t. you needed space. that’s not the same as giving up.”

you nod slowly, staring down at your hands, but you don’t respond.

jj sighs, then reaches over and squeezes your arm. "look, if there’s anyone who understands why you did what you did, it’s spencer. he has spent his life studying human behavior—figuring out how they think and why they do what they do. spencer knows exactly why you walked out, even if he won't admit it. he knows it was about needing space, about trying to make sense of everything that’s been building up between you.”

she pauses, giving you a reassuring look. “this isn’t the end. this is just a bump in the road—you'll go back when you're ready, and you'll start working through it all."

spencer knows why you left.

the thought lingers, easing the guilt that’s been clawing at you since you walked out. maybe that’s why he didn’t come after you. maybe, in his own way, he understood that you needed this moment to step back, to breathe, to process.

you hope—no, you need—to believe that he’s coming to his own realization. that in the quiet of your absence, in the stillness of an apartment that no longer holds your presence, he’s starting to understand. that maybe, just maybe, he’s replaying every word, every moment, and seeing where it all went wrong.

you want him to recognize that pushing you away was a mistake. that shutting you out, closing himself off instead of letting you in, only built more distance between you. and most of all, you hope he understands now—truly understands—that love isn’t about shutting doors, but about keeping them open, even when it’s hard.

the irony of the situation dawns on you. sitting here, hoping he comes to the right conclusion on his own, won’t change anything. no matter how hurt or frustrated you are, you know one thing for certain—you aren’t going to push him away the way he did to you.

you glance at jj, her eyes soft with understanding, and suddenly, you don’t feel as lost as you did before.

“i have to go back,” you murmur, the words feeling right the moment they leave your lips.

jj studies you for a moment before nodding. “yeah, i figured.” there’s no judgment in her voice, only quiet support.

you stand, but before you can say anything, jj speaks again. “i’m driving you.”

you blink at her. “jj, i can—”

"it’s late, and it’s cold,” she interrupts, crossing her arms. “and i know you. you’ll spend the entire walk overthinking, or worse, you’ll turn around and come right back here.”

you open your mouth to argue, but she raises an eyebrow, daring you to fight her on this. you sigh, giving in. “fine. i'll still overthink in the car though.”

jj smirks as she grabs her keys. "yeah, but at least this way, you’ll be overthinking with heated seats and no risk of getting hit by a rogue cyclist."

you roll your eyes, but there's a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "alright, alright. guess I’ll overthink in comfort then." you step outside, the weight of everything that’s about to unfold on your back.

the ride back is quiet, the streets nearly empty as jj navigates the familiar roads. you stare out the window, your finger spinning your wedding band, mind racing with all the possibilities of what comes next.

you wonder how it will be when you walk through that door. will he be surprised to see you? will he be angry? will he apologize? the questions swirl in your mind, but you push them aside—you'll find out in a few minutes either way.

jj pulls up in front of the apartment building and turns to you, her expression gentle. “you don’t have to fix everything tonight,” she reminds you. “just… put all your cards on the table. don't sugarcoat anything.”

you nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and nervous anticipation. "thank you, jj," you say softly, giving her a small smile. "i don’t know what i would’ve done without you tonight."

she smiles back, her eyes warm with understanding. "you’ll be fine. just be honest, that’s all you can do."

with a final nod, you push the door open, the cold air immediately hitting you as you step out onto the sidewalk. your heart is pounding in your chest, each step towards the apartment feeling heavier than the last.

you twist the handle, it's unlocked, but you hesitate before pushing the door open, gathering your courage in the silent hallway. when you finally step inside, the apartment is quiet—but not empty. a single lamp illuminates the living room, casting long shadows across the walls.

and there's spencer, sitting on the couch hunched over with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

he looks up at the sound of the door, and for a brief moment, his face is completely unguarded. relief washes over his features, followed quickly by something that looks almost like fear. he stands immediately, his movements stiff and uncertain.

"you came back," he says, his voice hoarse.

you close the door behind you, still standing near the threshold. "i started feeling guilty." you sighed, jj's voice in the back of your head—just be honest.

spencer swallows, his gaze flickering to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. "guilty?" he repeats, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

spencer exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “you shouldn't feel guilty," he murmurs, then shakes his head. "i mean, it makes sense,” he says quickly, his words picking up speed.

“studies show that guilt is often a response to perceived moral transgressions rather than actual wrongdoing. it’s the brain’s way of enforcing social cohesion—an evolutionary mechanism designed to maintain interpersonal relationships by making us feel responsible for potential harm, even when no actual harm has been inflicted.”

you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of disbelief and amusement as he rambled on. it was as if, in the middle of all this, the man you once knew had momentarily resurfaced. even if what he was saying wasn’t at all what you needed to hear right now, a part of you couldn't help but recognize the familiarity in it—the way he always got lost in his thoughts, trying to explain things when he didn’t quite know how to connect.

he shifts on his feet, his words picking up speed. “and in this case, your reaction makes perfect sense. you removed yourself from a heightened emotional situation in order to regulate your response, which, psychologically speaking, is a far healthier alternative to reactive conflict. but then, the cognitive dissonance sets in—the part where your brain tells you that leaving contradicts your usual patterns of behavior, and that discrepancy triggers guilt, even if logically—”

“spencer,” you interrupt gently.

his mouth snaps shut, and for a second, there’s just silence. a flicker of something vulnerable crosses his face, and you realize—he’s rambling because he doesn’t know what else to say. because this is easier for him than actually talking about what matters.

you step forward, closing a bit of the distance between you. “i don’t need an analysis,” you tell him gently. "i just want you to tell me what's going on."

spencer’s gaze flickers for a moment, like he’s trying to find the words, trying to make sense of the situation. "i never wanted you to feel like you needed to leave," he says, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “but i didn’t exactly make it easy for you to stay.”

you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, the weight of everything you haven’t said pressing heavily on your chest. "no, you didn’t," you admit, your voice just above a whisper.

his expression tightens, a flash of something—guilt, maybe—crossing his face before he looks away.

"i've been trying," he says quietly. "i have."

"have you?" the question comes out sharper than you intended, but you don't soften it. "because from where i'm standing, it feels like you've been doing everything possible to push me away."

spencer's gaze snaps back to you, a hint of defensiveness in his eyes. "that's not fair."

"isn't it?" you take another step forward, emboldened by the surge of emotions you've held back for too long. "you won't talk to me. you won't look at me. you won't even sit next to me on the couch. what am i supposed to think, spencer?"

he runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "it's not that simple," he says, his voice strained. "i want to be the person you remember, but i don't know if i can be that man anymore."

the admission hits you like a physical blow. "i'm not asking you to be exactly who you were before," you say softly. "i know that's not possible. i just... i need you to be present. to talk to me. to not shut me out completely."

spencer is quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on some point beyond you. when he finally speaks, his voice is barely audible. "i don't know how to explain what it was like in there."

your breath catches. this is the closest he's come to talking about prison since he's been home. you don't know if you should say something. you hold your breath, afraid that if you move or speak, he'll retreat again.

his eyes are distant, far away, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even aware of how much you’re hanging on his every word. finally, he exhales slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of it all is too much to bear.

“being in there… it broke something inside of me,” he says, voice low and strained. “i kept thinking about what it would be like to come back, to be here, with you. and then i just—" he paused for a moment. "i had to do something really bad. i had to do things in there that… things i never thought i would do."

"i hate myself for it. every second of it." his voice breaks on the last word, he shakes his head, hands shaking slightly as he runs them through his hair, frustration and guilt radiating from him.

"i wasn't just a victim in there—i became someone i don't even recognize anymore. i did things that went against everything i ever believed in, everything i told myself i would never do."

he looks at you now, and you can see the turmoil in his eyes—the deep-rooted shame and the self-loathing that’s consumed him. "and now i’m back here, with you, and i don’t even know who i am anymore. i’ve become this person who did unforgivable things. you don't deserve someone like me, someone who’s capable of—of that." he gestures vaguely, as if trying to encompass everything that’s happened to him.

"is that why you've been pushing me away?" you ask softly. "because you think i won't love who you are now?"

he doesn't answer, but the way he avoids your gaze tells you everything.

"baby," you whisper, shifting closer to him. "nothing could change how I see you."

you take a slow, unsteady breath, searching for the right words—any words—but everything feels inadequate. how do you explain something that goes beyond language?

"god, spencer," you exhale, shaking your head. "i wish i was better at this. i wish i had the right words, i wish i was some kind of poet, and that i could say the right things to make you understand, but i'm not."

you finally close the gap between you two and take his hands, gripping them tightly, pressing them against your chest as if somehow, if he just feels the way your heart beats for him, he’ll finally understand.

"it’s frustrating," you continue, voice thick with emotion. "because what i feel for you—it’s bigger than me. it’s bigger than words. i can’t explain it, and i hate that, because i need you to know. i need you to understand that this isn’t something breakable, something you can ruin, something you can chase away just because you think you should."

he swallows hard, his fingers curling around yours, but he doesn’t speak. maybe he can’t.

"i swear, spencer, if there was a way to pull this feeling out of me and give it to you, i would. if i could make you see yourself the way i see you, make you understand that what you did—what you had to do—doesn’t make you unworthy of love, i would do it in a heartbeat." your voice breaks slightly, tears now lining your eyes. "because i don’t just love you. it’s not that simple. it’s not just some feeling, some thing i could ever put into words. it’s more. it doesn’t begin or end with what you’ve done, or what’s happened to you, or who you think you’ve become. it just is."

he lets out a shaky breath, his eye are now wet, shining under the dim apartment light, his lips parted slightly like he wants to argue but can’t find the strength to. because maybe, just maybe, for the first time—he’s starting to believe you.

"i just wish—i wish you could feel it," you murmur, voice breaking. "i wish you could step into my skin, into my heart, and know how much i love you."

you don’t realize you’re crying until he reaches up, hesitantly, brushing his fingers against your cheek like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he touches you. his hand is shaking, but he doesn’t pull away.

spencer’s expression falters, something breaking inside of him, and when he finally—finally—pulls you into his arms, it’s not desperate or frantic. his arms wrap around you slowly, almost reverently, as though he's trying to let the feeling of your love wash over him, to understand it the way you do.

at first, it’s just the slightest tremble in his shoulders, so faint you almost miss it. but then you feel it—the shaky exhale against your neck, the way his fingers clutch at the fabric of your shirt like he’s afraid to let go. and then, slowly, silently, he starts to break.

his breath hitches, and before he can stop it, a quiet sob escapes him, muffled against your shoulder. his body shakes, all the pain and guilt unraveling all at once, and all you can do is hold him through it. his hands grasp at you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the present, like if he lets go, he’ll disappear into everything he’s been trying so hard to contain.

you don’t say anything. you don’t tell him it’s okay, because you know he wouldn’t believe it. or maybe because it isn't. but it will be. you'll make sure of that.

your fingers thread through his hair, your lips press against his temple, and you whisper the same words over and over, a promise and a lifeline: "i love you. i love you. i love you."

you stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other, the weight of everything that’s happened still lingering in the air between you. but it’s different now. lighter, somehow. not because everything is fixed—there are still conversations to have, wounds to tend to, pieces of him he hasn’t shown you yet.

but for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re on the same side again. you’re not standing in separate corners, silently blaming each other for things you can’t control.

the weight in your chest, the anxiety that has gnawed at you since that day you got the call about him being detained, begins to fade. you don’t need to fix everything tonight. you don’t need to have all the answers.

his breathing begins to steady, the tears slowing, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice a raw whisper as he says the only thing he can in this moment. “i’m sorry.”

you close your eyes for a moment, exhaling softly. “i know,” you whisper.

there's a beat of silence. "i've been having nightmares," he says, his voice so low you have to strain to hear him. "almost every night. that's where i go sometimes—i walk before going to bed. i walk so that i'm exhausted enough that my mind shuts down."

the sudden admission breaks your heart—but there's also a part of you that feels relief. relief that he wasn't turning to something worse or someone else to numb the pain.

"spencer, you could have told me." you said, fingers rubbings patterns into his back.

"i didn't want to burden you more than i already have," he says, shaking his head. "you've already been through so much because of me."

"that's not how this works," you say, squeezing his hand. "just forget all of that, okay? things will be different now. you not talking to me hurts more than that ever could."

he leans into you, his eyes closing for a brief moment. "i'm sorry," he whispers. "for pushing you away. for making you feel like you weren't enough. you've always been enough."

you lift a hand to his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek as you take in the exhaustion lining his features—the weight he’s been carrying alone for too long. slowly, carefully, you lean in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. just a warm, quiet reassurance that you’re here, that you’re staying.

when you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, and he lets out a quiet sigh, his breath warm against your skin. he looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "do you want to go to bed?" he asks, voice low.

you pause for a moment, you hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were until his mention of sleep. your shoulders feel heavy, and your body aches from the emotional toll it’s taken.

a deep, almost instinctual sigh escapes your lips, and you nod softly, “yeah."

spencer squeezes your hand gently and leads you toward the bedroom. the moment the covers are pulled back, you slip under the soft sheets, the cool fabric against your skin offering the smallest comfort after everything you've been through. spencer follows you in, his body warm and reassuring as he settles beside you.

he moves closer, carefully wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into him with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. you rest your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you. his presence, steady and constant, washes over you like a balm, soothing the frantic, scattered thoughts in your mind.

his hand moves slowly up and down your back, the rhythm soothing, and you realize just how much you've missed this—missed him.

you close your eyes, letting the weight of everything melt away as you drift closer to sleep. spencer’s voice is soft, a comforting murmur as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"i love you."

[universefcb]

make one which reader and Pedri are trying to have their alone moment, but the universe seems like to be against them, and everytime they try something they're interrupted

↬❥ The universe against us

Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

a/n: I THINK THIS IMAGINE IS WHAT I LOVED THINKING AND WRITING THE MOST KAKAKAKAK. And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

REQUESTED!

warnings: Hot kisses, stress, and comedy.

The sun was beginning to set in Barcelona, dyeing the sky with orange and pink hues. The city was alive, but inside Pedri's apartment, all that mattered was the comfortable silence between the two of you. He was there, sprawled on the couch, one hand resting on your thigh while the other absently played with a lock of your hair.

— It's been a while since we had a moment alone... — he murmured, his voice hoarse, his brown eyes fixed on hers.

You smiled, sliding your hand down his chest.

— That’s right. There’s always some event or games…

Pedri chuckled softly, leaning in to capture your lips with his. The kiss started softly, but soon intensified, his firm hand gripping your waist, pulling you closer. Your bodies adjusted naturally, and the heat that formed between you was unmistakable.

That's when his phone started ringing. Loudly. Insistent.

Pedri groaned in frustration, throwing his head back.

"I don't believe."

He ignored the call and went back to kissing you, but seconds later, the phone rang again.

“Better answer it,” you said, laughing at the irritation on his face.

He picked up his cell phone and answered without even looking at the caller ID.

“What is it?” he grumbled.

It was Gavi.

“Bro, can you tell me where my black boots are? You borrowed them last week!”

Pedri closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“Gavi, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Yes, I do. That’s why I’m calling. There’s training tomorrow.”

“It’s in the hall closet. Now stop calling me.”

He hung up before his friend could respond and threw the phone away.

“Okay, problem solved. Now, where were we again?”

You laughed and pulled him into another kiss, this time more intense, his hands sliding over your skin in a way that made your entire body shiver. He leaned over you, his knee gently pressing against your leg, and you were about to finally lose yourself in each other when…

TOC, TOC, TOC!

The two were startled by the knock on the door.

Pedri closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh.

“If it’s Gavi again, I’ll kill him.”

He stood up, clearly irritated, and went to open the door. It was his brother.

“Fer, this is not possible now!”

“Relax, bro. I just came to get my headphones that I left here yesterday.”

Pedri practically pushed his brother out of the apartment and slammed the door. When he returned to the couch, his gaze was determined.

“I do not accept that the universe wins.”

“Me neither,” you agreed, pulling him by the collar of his shirt.

This time, you decided not to give him any more chances to interrupt. He gently cupped your face and deepened the kiss, his hands exploring every inch of you. You fit perfectly against him, his skin feeling warm under your fingers, and everything finally seemed to be going in the right direction…

But then…

The loud sound of the doorbell made you both jump on the couch.

Pedri stared at the door, his eyes shining with fury.

“If it’s Gavi or Fer, I swear…”

He opened the door with a jerk, and you were both taken by surprise. It was a delivery man.

“Request for Pedro Gonzalez?”

Pedri frowned.

“I didn’t ask for anything.”

The delivery man looked at the name on the paper and then at him.

“Oh, it was your brother. It’s in his name, but this is your address.”

Pedri ran his hands over his face.

“I'm going to kill Fer.”

After taking the order and closing the door tightly, he walked back to you.

“Forget the universe. I don’t care anymore.”

You laughed and pulled him back, deciding that this time, nothing else could get in the way.

And finally, the universe gave up on being against you.

✦ tysm by request

[lostinlovingrevery]

Angst with a very sad reader who is deaf, she wished she could hear Logan, or be able to talk to him with her voice she can’t use, so he comforts his girlfriend

Hands

Logan Howlett X Deaf! F! Reader

Talking to Logan is different for you

A/N: The way this actually made me cry while writing this. A lil self healing. I'm not completely deaf, but I've grown up being left out of conversations, unable to hear or understand people, sounds, music, etc. I've actively worried about what it would be like having a partner having to "put up" with my hearing loss. Also it could be any Logan! I just used DOFP here bc he's so pretty <3 I hope you enjoy nonny!

Warnings: A bit angsty, reader is deaf, and uses ASL to communicate, feelings of loneliness, sadness, being left out, Logan being so babygirl <3

It was the same story as always

You sat next to Logan as you were in another outing with your friends.

It was a new place that opened this past week, a mix of a bar and a cafe. Filled with vibrant colors and pop culture references of the decades. The menus were filled with pun-named drinks and greasy meals.

You quite adored the atmosphere, and you were enjoying the Friday night outing after an incredibly long day. It just that your group of friends and Logan, were knee deep in a conversation that seemed incredibly funny- judging by their laughing faces, and Logan's usual thin-lipped smile when he's amused; and you had no clue what was being said.

He glanced at you, and you gave him a big smile. Reassuring that you were okay. He quirked a brow, about to say something before someone called his attention, turning his head, your smile faded, as you watched him converse with your friends. He finally leaned back to you again, noticing your drink was low. He tapped your knee, grabbing the glass off the table and signing refill?

You smiled and nodded, and he got up, taking his own glass too, as he walked over to the counter. You adjusted where you were sitting, waving for a friends attention. He turns and smiles, and you ask him for the context of the story.

"Oh-" You lipread, while he also signs. "It's not a big deal." He smiles shaking his head. You paused, and then nodded, leaning back into the sofa that looked like it came straight from the set of The Brady Brunch.

Dejected, but not surprised.

Logan came back, handing you your drink, leaning forward to peck you on the cheek, before putting an arm around your shoulder. One of your friends start talking to Logan- and from what you could tell was updating him on the parts of the story he missed.

You looked at Logan instead of bothering trying to pick up what was being told.

You watched his smile lines increase as he grins, the corner of his eyes wrinkling as he begins to laugh. Handsome, as always. You leaned into him, feeling the exertion of his chest as he laughs with each breath. You watch his lips move, and wonder for not the first time at what he sounds like.

He's told you that his voice was always described as deep and low. A friend has jokingly told you that it was the sexiest sounding thing ever.

Which both irked, and disappointed you.

You could pick up just by lipreading that he was talking about you. A funny story that happened to the both of you at the grocery store the other day. A small smile on your face, he looked at you. It was like it suddenly occurred to him you didn't hear what was going on. He moved, turning his body towards you, and began talking and signing, telling the story to both you and your other friends.

Your smile grew as you watched him, but the sadness inside you filled deeper, as you watched him sign- remembering the symbols and the placements, while also talking to your friend. He pauses, hesitates, and you help him with certain signs- wishing you could just say that words yourself- that you knew how to say the words yourself.

He's quite good at sign language, but as with learning any new language, there's room for a little inaccuracy here and there.

It isn't always like this, feeling lonely when you're surrounded by people who love you. A lot of the time when you hang out one on one, your friends full focus is on you, the speaking between you and the other is non-stop as you gossip about anything and everything. In outings like this though, you assume that maybe it's just too much, trying to focus on talking to a group- and remembering the words to spell out with your hands and talk to you simulataneously.

You never say anything. Just sit in quiet silence. It's an acceptance you found long ago. Being left out of conversations, or others not wanting to put in the work of including you, conversing with you, even if they already have the ability to do so.

When Logan came around, and you found yourselves entangled in the usual story of romance, you couldn't be happier. He was always patient, worked diligently at learning to communicate with you. He learned how to properly get your attention, to speak directly to you. He never once made you feel left out. Mostly because he wasn't a talker himself- at least with his voice.

You knew better, but you couldn't help but feel like it's work to communicate. Not just for you, but for Logan. Having to always find a way to get each others attention. You watched him struggle to remember certain words, and he'd have to say it to you and you lipread in order to translate properly. Moments you usually thought were cute - but this time felt bittersweet.

On the car ride home, you both sat in silence. Logan's hand rested on your thigh, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your pants soothingly. You looked at the radio- noticing it was on. The number you recognized as a talk station Logan has told you he liked to listen to. You turned to look out the window, and noticed street musicians performing on the corner.

The car was stopped at an intersection, so you got Logan's attention, and pointed, before signing,

Music?

He looked at what you pointing at. He nodded, before rolling your window down, and he tilted his head, listening. Then signed back to you.

"Rock." He says, and you make a motion as if you were playing the drums, he smiled and nodded. You turned to look back at the musicians playing. Curious.

He let off the brake and the car began moving. You left the window down, letting air blow over your face. You wondered what the talk show hosts were saying.

When you both got home, he followed you to the bedroom, getting your attention with taps to your shoulder.

"Hey-" He signed. You looked at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't speak- directly to you sometimes. It was loud and a little chaotic in there but I didn't forget you I just..." He shook his head.

Your face fell and you looked away. Then looked back up at him. You responded,

It's okay. I know it can be work to try to communicate with me.

He blinked as he watched your hands and shook his head, he stepped closer.

"It's not work to talk to you." You watched him say. His brows creased. "Not for me."

You purse your lips, as you felt emotion swell up inside you. An ache in your chest, as you let out an exhale.

I just wish I could hear you. That I could speak to you. That we could talk, normally.

He shook his head, "This is normal, baby." He paused, his hands in the air, as he seemed to be searching for his next words. "This." He motions the sign language, "Does not bother me. I like that we can talk like this."

You looked away, but his hand came up to your chin, making you look back at him, his expression firm as he stares into your eyes. For a moment, you softened, the focus and care he held in his hazel eyes for you.

How does it not bother you? You have to put more effort into speak with me. Everyone does. Isn't it tiring?

"No." He shook his head. His hand came up to cup your cheek, a small sigh escaping him. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. A tear left your cheek, and he collected it with his thumb. Stepping back, and returning to signing. "You have given me a way to use my hands without violence. The way we can talk to each other, makes me feel closer to you, than just using my voice to talk to anyone."

Your lip quivered as you watched him play out his words.

"I never been good at talking." He grinned. "This though, I'm good at. I'm glad we can speak like this. It makes us...Connected. More than I ever been with anyone." he continued. "I feel like you and me...We can connect because we don't need words to understand each other. You look at me, and you just know me."

A few more tears escaped, rolling down your cheek as you nodded, you signed.

I wish I knew what you sound like.

His face softened, as he stepped closer again. "I...Know this isn't the same but..."

He reached for your hands, bringing your fingers to his lips, and your other hand to the base of his neck- where his collarbone met. You didn't need him to sign the next words for you to understand.

"I love you"

Tears streamed down you face, as you felt his lips move against your fingers. The muscles of his throat moved and vibrated against your other hand. He repeated it, over and over, allowing you to memorize the feeling of his words on your hands, the vibrations of his throat. It felt warm, and deep. You couldn't imagine sound, but closing your eyes made you picture his leather jacket, the curls of his chestnut hair, the weight of him on top of you. Maybe it wasn't his voice, but it was him you were feeling.

He only stopped saying those words when you reached up to kiss him, but you felt his lips brush over yours as he spoke it again. You moved, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him. He squeezed you in an embrace.

Maybe he was right, maybe this was nice. It still saddened a part of you that you couldn't hear his voice. Yet, another part of you appreciated how Logan still felt connected to you this way. He was right, in your entire relationship, he may have struggled with his hands,

He never struggled communicating with you, though.

[gothamite-rambler]

Jason: Bruce, I know we’ve made amends and I’m back in this insane family, and I’m well aware you tried to kill the Joker to avenge my honor. You didn’t go through with it, but still, there’s a lot to unpack here. I want that soldier memorial removed. I never wanted a statue that labels me as a damn child soldier.

Bruce: Yeah, I told Alfred the same thing. Honestly, I’m thinking we could replace it with photos of you, Dick, Tim, and Damian.

Jason: You told Alfred the same thing?

Bruce (swishing his Cognac in his glass): Alfred set up that memorial and included the soldier line. I hated it—not because it reminds me of you but because equating you to a soldier reduces the fact that you're my son who chose to fight alongside me. I may be emotionally distant, but I do love you. You were never a solider, you are my son.

Jason blinked, momentarily stunned, and turned away, coughing to maintain his composure. Bruce half-smiled, noticing his son misty-eyed.

Jason: Right, back to the Alfred comment. He put that up? Jesus, I know he’s old and things were different back then, but “soldier” for a teenage Robin? How is that okay?

Bruce: Alfred means well. He tends to do insane things without my approval. He made Tim a Robin after I vowed never to have another child sidekick.

Jason (shocked): What the hell?!

Bruce chuckled dryly as he drank the rest of his Cognac and poured another glass.

Bruce: Yeah, when you died in that explosion and I cradled your lifeless body, I thought about you—my sidekick, my son. I reflected on Dick and what he went through, how he was going low contact with me. I spiraled, thinking, “What kind of monster does this to his son? To the kids he claims to care about? I just buried a kid… a kid who lost his life before it even started.”

He downed the second glass of Cognac, his throat dry, and slammed the glass on the table.

Bruce: So I vowed to never get another one. Obviously, that didn’t stick. Tim figured out Dick was Nightwing and the first Robin; I couldn’t resist rubbing that in his face for weeks once I felt better. But before that, I turned Tim away. I didn’t want a child sidekick. I thought I could handle this alone. Dick and I were still on terrible terms, and I was losing it. This was after I tried to kill the Joker, by the way.

Jason: Right.

Bruce: I was, to put it lightly, losing my mind. I was inches away from having my one bad day moment, on the brink of insanity. But Alfred and… I think Dick got Tim your old suit—

Jason: My old suit? The one I died in?!

Bruce: No, the backup you had. Keep up. So they gave him that suit, and he saved me. Alfred was like, "Master Bruce, I got you a new sidekick. You don’t have to thank me." I didn’t thank him, but Tim was precocious and adorable. I probably would’ve died without him. But yeah, Alfred was behind that as well.

Jason: …

Bruce: I know it’s a lot to take in. I hope you aren’t angry at Alfred for this.

Jason (burying his head in his hands): I’m so conflicted.

Bruce: That’s usually how I feel when Alfred decides to do things I didn't agree with. He means well though, the man was there for me when I had no one after my parents died. Do you still want to remove the memorial? I have a small one set up for you already, just photos of us together.

Jason: Aww, Bruce, that’s actually nice and makes sense for you. Let’s keep the memorial. I don’t have it in me to get mad at Alfred. Can I have some of that alcohol, though? I think I need it.

Bruce (already pouring him a glass): I expected that. If you have more questions, I’m two drinks in and becoming an open book like that time we got hit with truth pollen.

Jason: I actually wanted to ask what you said to Superman after he stupidly tried to stop you from avenging your son.

Bruce: I’d love to talk about that, and I hope he hears us.

inspired by this kaylee.jaye

[bisexualbrainrots]

I'm loving the responses to this fic, so here's another snippet, we're getting steamier everyone! hope you guys are enjoying the process.

if you want to read: part 1, part 2, wip part 3.

Buck shakes when one of Tommy's fingers hooks on the towel, gripping but not making an effort to pull it off yet.

He takes that as a sign and raises his hands through Tommy's arms until they find each other on the back of his neck, fingers interlocking. Buck closes a little more of the gap as he nudges his nose with his boyfriend's, greeting in the form of a soft ‘hi’ that's reciprocated immediately. 

“Were you okay back there?”

Buck nods “It wasn't so bad, you know. I got to think a lot,” he smiles, his gaze descends to Tommy's lips and a sense of hunger creeps up in him.

Tommy notices and smirks “And what were all these things you thought of?” his free hand moves up to Buck's waist, holding onto it tight.

It's this little sense of possessiveness that drives Buck crazy. What Tommy doesn’t say with his words, he shows it with his touch, and when it comes to his possessive side he’s more… physical about it. He’d put his hand on the small of Buck’s back as they walk down the street, he’d hook his fingers to the belt loops and pull Buck closer, he’d hold and squeeze the back of Buck’s neck when they’re at a get-together, and he’d leave as many marks as he could everywhere on Buck’s body.

He still has that one bite mark on his hip.

Buck nips at Tommy's top lip “You, your mouth, your neck, your fingers,” his lips graze Tommy's as he speaks but he doesn't go beyond that, letting the desire linger in the air, “I thought of those fingers inside of me, opening me up until my legs are shaking.”

Before he can say anything else, Tommy's lips are crashing onto his, giving him a bruising kiss that Buck happily reciprocates as his hands shift to hold his boyfriend's face.

As the kiss deepens they move around the room, until Buck feels his calves hit the end of the bed and he's stopped, whining a little as Tommy's tongue plays with his.

“Fuck… fuck,” Tommy's wicked gaze is all over Buck, examining every fraction of his features and licking his lips as he stays on Buck's eyes, and his voice drops an octave as he whispers “What am I gonna do with you?”

God, he loves it when Tommy gets like this. Even though it hasn't been that long since they started doing it, Buck has become obsessed with the way Tommy’s eyes and demeanor can change when he's aroused. It's almost like lust sets in and spreads around, all the way from the depths of his veins to the surface of his pores. Sometimes he remains calm and collected, even when he’s driving Buck to the edge of madness; other times he becomes a beast, wrapped in this frenzy that has him making noises that could make Buck come untouched.

Even though he knows Tommy will be careful with him, Buck can’t help but wish for him to ruin him.

“Fuck me,” Buck takes a deep breath when Tommy chuckles, the vibrations of his laugh flowing through his body and settling deep in his bones.

The hand on his waist shifts to his cheek, cupping his face with a tenderness only Tommy can give in a moment like this “Be patient, Evan. We don’t have to rush and I… I really want to take my time with you.”

Buck’s knees almost falter when Tommy gets the towel off his hips, and he has very little time to think about the fact that he’s completely naked because Tommy pushes him onto the bed, covering his body as he joins their lips in an open-mouthed kiss.

taglist! (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @likeapaperplane @fenrirscarsback @sad-girl-hours23 @station18908 @all-the-feelss @rubydaiquiri @superlock-in-the-tardis

[fanfictiongirlie]

Marvel: Kiss Me - Bucky Barnes -

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (No use of Y/N)

Request Prompt: (Requested by anon)

OMG I LOVE YOUR BUCKY FICS </33 Can you maybe write a one shot where the reader and him both have dates who flake or something and they end up just spending the evening together? I thought it would be REALLY wholesome. Adore your account! Xoxo

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 3,538

Okay, so! Thank you for requesting! I've been wanting to write a Bucky One Shot but I couldn't think of anything fun! This was fun, and so cute. Also, I'm so glad you like my Bucky fics and just, this anon made my day okay!

I hope you enjoy! (p.s I was listening to music whilst writing this, and as I got to the part where they kiss, Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer started playing, hence why this is called Kiss Me)

Bucky Barnes smirked as he looked down at his phone. His best friend, you, had texted him something funny, his eyes flickered from his phone a moment to his surroundings, a sweet cafe. He was already on coffee two. His 'date' hadn't showed yet. But she was only ten minutes late. 

'Whoever said blind dating was a good idea sucks' You texted your best friend, Bucky. You were in a similar situation to him, sitting alone in a restaurant. Waiting for a date, some guy named Gregg, who hadn't showed up yet. Leaving you sitting alone for fifteen minutes. You looked down at your phone with a sigh, smiling when you saw that Bucky had messaged you back. 

'I don't know, it could make a funny story' 

'I don't want 'funny' Barnes, I want swept off my feet love!'

Bucky smirked at your response, a part of him wasn't shocked at both your dates going this way. Your dating lives sucked. If only he could admit his feelings. He quickly typed a reply. 

'And do you think that Gregg is going to sweep you off your feet?'

'Who knows, maybe if he had the decency to show up on time, I'd know'

'Wanna bet he never shows up?' He texts, his eyes scanning the cafe again, nope, still no date. He smirked when you texted back seconds later, the two of you always made bets, on literally anything. 

'That's a horrible thing to be on...' You text, and then quickly you send another, a smirk playing on your lips. 'You're on'

'What does the winner get?' He texts, adding the little purple devil emoji. He had recently learnt emojis, from you, of course. You roll your eyes playfully at his response. 

'Why are you texting me? Aren't you also on a date?'

'Because my date is currently 15 minutes late' 

'Just our luck' You text. You laugh bitterly, you felt stupid and wanted to leave, but the restaurant was so full, and there was nothing more embarrassing. 

'Wanna just ditch these idiots and hang out?'

'Fuck yes' You text back, suddenly smiling, you didn't care what everyone thought, so you gather your things and left the restaurant, you grab your phone and dial Bucky's number. Bucky laughs at your response, he left his seat and walked out of the cafe. 

"Hello?" He says softly. 

"Where we going Barnes?" You ask over the phone. He chuckles on the other side of the phone as he started walking towards his apartment. 

"My place, I was thinking we could order pizza, and watch shitty movies"

"It's like you always know what I wanna hear, meet you there" You say, grinning as you walked down the pavement. Bucky smiles at your answer. 

"Sounds like a plan, I'll get the pizza and beer ready, see you in a bit" He says, and then hangs up the call. You smile to yourself as you make your way to Bucky's apartment. It was like your second home, you spent more time there than you did your own apartment. Before you got to his apartment, you grabbed some pastries from a bakery you liked. 

Bucky got everything set up, a huge pizza on the table, beer too. When the doorbell rings, he goes to answer it, a big smile plastered across on his face. 

"Hey! Brought dessert did you?" He asks, as he sees you holding the box of pastries. 

"I did! Thought we could drown our sorrows in sugar" You say with a smirk as you push past him, walking into the apartment. 

"Well I think pizza and Ice-cream would've done that, but I guess this works too" He grins. 

"You never said ice cream, dork" You mutter, you walk into the small apartment, it was more of a studio, his kitchen, living room and bedroom all in one place, and a small bathroom and toilet off in the corner. You loved it here, one wall was entirely window, looking down at the bustling city below. Bucky pinched your shoulder playfully as you walked past him to get to the couch. You flopped down and waited for him to sit so you could get comfortable leaning against him. You grabbed a beer and took a swig. 

"How funny would it be if our dates ditched us to go on dates with each other" You mutter, taking another swig of the beer before putting it on the table. 

"Oh god... That would be horrible" Bucky mutters, his mouth full of pizza as he does. You moved yourself into your usual position when watching movies with him. With your head in his lap, his hands moved without thinking, brushing through your hair. 

"Swear I'll be single forever" You mumble, you look up at him, a wistful look over your features as your mind thinks over your feelings for him. Forbidden feelings, liking one's best friend. 

"You won't be alone forever, you'll find someone who isn't a complete idiot" He said, he lifts his bottle of beer to his lips, drinking a long gulp down. 

"I don't think I believe ya Barnes" You say as your mouth goes dry, watching his lips touch the bottle, a drop of beer slid down his chin. Bucky rolls his eyes as he looks down at you, his beer now on the side table. 

"Trust me, I know you really well, the right guy will know how awesome you are, and he will appreciate you a lot. He'll love you for real, doll" He says softly, his fingers slightly stroking your temple. The touch was so intimate, you craved more from him. 

"You're too sweet, Bucks" You say, smiling up at him, the sun outside was in its golden hour, streaming in and covering your face, and Bucky forgot how to breath for a moment, the sun shone over your features just slightly, making you shine, and your eyes sparkle. He shakes his head. "I'm just being honest, it's clear as day how awesome you are. Any guy would be lucky to have you"

You move, sitting up and facing him, your leg pressed against his as you sit with one leg still on the couch. "Any guy?" You ask, biting you lip, taking a chance. Bucky nodded, his gaze on yours, your eyes locking. 

"Any guy. You're smart, kind, gorgeous, funny and the perfect height for hugs!" He says with a smirk, he was trying to cheer you up. Plus, Bucky's favourite thing ever was the way your eyes lit up with every compliment he gave you. 

"Have a certain guy in mind?" You ask, your voice faltering slightly, your teeth bit your lip slightly as you tried to push the nerves down, you laugh softly, a mix of your usual laugh and a nervous laugh. Bucky's smirk grew as you laughed, he continued to look into your eyes, feeling himself get a little lost, and he didn't break contact as he spoke. 

"Maybe I do have someone in mind" He says, his cocky smirk still over his lips whilst his eyes screamed how nervous he felt in that moment. 

"And who would that be?" You ask, without realising your hand and Bucky's was touching, between the space next to both your legs, a few fingers were linked, holding onto one another as if an anchor. 

"You really gonna make me say it?" He asks. 

"Yes, definitely" You answer softly, was this really happening?

Bucky moved one of his hands, moving close to your face as his strokes your cheek gently with his thumb. "It's you, doll" His smirk had turned into a genuine smile as he spoke. He moved his hand, cupping your cheek, his thumb still moving softly against the skin of your cheek. 

"Me? Really?" You ask, your voice quiet but laced with hopefulness. You had wanted this moment for a long time. He nodded, pulling you a little closer to him, your faces were only a few inches apart now. 

"Yes really. I know you're my best friend but I've wanted to be more than just friends for such a long time..." Bucky says, he feels like a weight is lifted off his chest as he speaks, finally he was telling you how his heart felt. 

"Fuck" You whisper, you had never thought he could feel the same, but here he was, admitting it. 

"Language" He says playfully, that cocky smirk returning to his lips. 

"Shove it old man" You mutter. He chuckles, loving the banter between you both. "You really me it?" You ask, sounding more serious now. Bucky's heart was racing, he was hoping you wouldn't reject him or laugh in his face. He had wanted you for so long now, and the thought of having you in his arms and calling you his was enough to make his chest give out. "Of course I mean it doll, I mean it as much as I've ever anything" 

"Why did you never tell me?" You ask quietly. 

Bucky sighs, and spoke quietly as he moved his hand lower to cup your jaw. "I didn't want to do anything that would jeopardise our friendship. I've wanted you for years, but I cared about our friendship more. I thought you didn't have feelings for me, so I didn't say anything" He explains. 

You nodded, knowing exactly how he felt. "Suppose that makes sense" You whisper, you then realise you hadn't told him of your feelings, you almost wanted to slap yourself when you see the scared, insecure look in his eyes. 

"And how do you feel about it? About me, wanting you? Do you want me back?" He asks, his eyes looking away from yours for a moment. You take a deep breath and put your hand over his, still cupping your jaw. 

"Yes Bucky" You whisper. "Obviously, gods, you're perfect"

"You mean it, doll? You're not just saying that, are you?" He asks, his voice softer than usual. 

"Why would I just say that, you dork. I've liked you for so long, it's why I kept going on dates..I never thought you'd like me back" You say, laughing softly. 

"Can I kiss you?" He asks quietly. 

Yes...please"

Bucky didn't hesitate for even a second, he crashes his lips against yours. His kissed you passionately, and didn't want to pull away. You tried hard not to smile against his lips, not wanting to ruin the moment. You both had waited for this for so long, and it was better than either of you imagined. His hands move down to your waist, holding you close as he deepened the kiss. Bucky felt like he had fireworks going off in his head as he felt and tasted your lips on his. You loved it, and didn't want to pull away, not caring about coming up for air, you wanted to kiss him over and over and over again. 

Bucky finally pulled away to breath, panting and a little breathless as he looked at you through hooded eyes. 

"God doll....That was amazing..."

"Yeah...it was" You whisper, your voice a little hoarse. He smirked at your reaction, loving how you loved the kiss as much as he did. He pulled you to his chest, wanting you as close as possible. He nuzzled his face into your neck and spoke quietly. "Can I admit something?"

"Of course Bucks" You say as you cuddle close to him. You had cuddled like this before, but this time, it was different. 

"I've imagined doing that for a long time... I've wanted to kiss you like that for such a long time... I never thought you felt the same way, so I didn't want to say anything... I don't want to mess up our friendship"

You smile softly as his words, you move so you were facing him again, his eyes meeting yours as you spoke. "Our friendship couldn't be messed up, not ever. You're the closest person to me, and I could never do anything to lose you"

"I feel the same doll, and I'm glad I finally have you. You don't know how much it means to me that you are here... In my apartment... In my arms... And you feel the same way... You're my person"

"You're my person, Bucks" You say, beaming at him, you then groan softly, looking around the room at the pizza box and beer bottles decorating the table. "Can't believe we're surrounded by pizza and beer admitting our feelings" 

"Oh my God, I didn't even realize it, you're right... Maybe we should've gone out somewhere or made a more appropriate setting... He thought about it for a moment, then shrugged and smirked. "Ah who cares, it's us... And we're perfect for each other. This is exactly how it's supposed to happen"

"Yeah, you're right.. I'm sure we'll have plenty of times for fancy dates" You say, grinning, the thought alone making your insides feel giddy and excited. Bucky smirked at your words, his heart raced as he thought about taking you on dates. You were his girl now, he was over the moon. 

"Oh we definitely will doll... Dinner dates, movie dates, nights out on the town just to have an excuse to walk around holding hands and showing the world that you're mine... We can do all of that... And more"

"God, we're gonna be busy, aren't we?" You asked in a playful tone. Bucky chuckled softly at your words before speaking. "Yes we are doll... But I wouldn't want it any other way... It'll be worth it, to have you and show the world that you're mine"

"Who knew" You start to say in a playfully sarcastic tone. "Are you being sarcastic with me right now?" He asks.

"Oh completely, who knew you were such a loverboy!" You say giggling. He rolled his eyes but smirked at your response. "Oh shut up doll... You're gonna make me blush"

"Sorry Bucks" You say, though you weren't really sorry. He loved you being goofy and playful, he always has. But now that he knew you loved him just as much as he loved you, these moments meant so much more to him. "Yeah yeah doll, you are not sorry at all"

You sigh happily and cuddle close to him, one of your usual positions on your many movie nights, it felt the same, the same comfortable happy time together. "Strange, I always thought being with you like this would be different, but it feels like normal" He wrapped his arms around you, loving the way you're cuddling against him. He held you close, keeping you pressed close to his chest. He rested his cheek on the top of your head, breathing in your scent. He thought for a moment at your comment.

"I know what you mean doll. It feels... Natural? I don't know, it just feels so right... Like you belong here with me"

"So natural" You agree.  "How about we get that ice cream and finish our shitty movies?"

"Yeah, that sounds perfect doll... Get the ice cream, throw on another shitty movie, and stay cuddled on the couch with you... Absolutely perfect"

"Hmm perfect" You hum, repeating his words as you move to press a kiss to his jaw. He smiled softly as you repeated his words. Hearing that it was perfect coming from your lips filled his heart, and the kiss on his jaw set his skin on fire. He loved when you were affectionate and gave him sweet little kisses and touches. He wanted more. So much more.

"You're too sweet doll, you keep saying things like that and I'll really become a loverboy..." He teased you a little, with a playful smirk.

"Hmm yeah?" You whisper playfully, teasing him as you kissed another to his jaw. He swallowed hard as you kissed his jaw again. The feeling of your lips on his was becoming addicting. He wanted more, but the feeling was also becoming distracting. "Doll... You're playing a dangerous game..."

"I quite like this game" You answer, kissing further along his jaw, up to his chin, and then finally to his lips, you press a kiss to his lips. He closed his eyes and leaned into your kisses. Each one felt like heaven to him. The final kiss to his lips sent chills down his spine, causing a deep groan to escape from his lips. He wanted to take the kiss further and deepen it, but you pulled away. He opened his eyes and looked up at you, feeling both frustrated and incredibly aroused at the same time. The sight of you standing up made the thought of pulling you back down onto the couch and attacking your lips with his own flash through his mind.

You smirk at his reaction as you step away from him, you make your way over to the kitchen area. You grab the ice cream and get two bowls ready, you walk back over to him, passing him a bowl as you sit back down with him. 

"Thanks doll"

And then, the next few hours as the sun goes down were spent watching the shitty movies eating junk and kisses every now and again. It was so natural and perfect... Spending time with you, cuddling you, kissing you... It was everything he ever wanted. The kisses turned from soft and sweet to deep and passionate, especially the ones when he finally pinned you down on the couch in a moment of lust and need where he couldn't control himself. It was perfect.

"Behave mister" You giggle softly, Bucky was still hovering over you, trapping you underneath him. "Oh doll... I've been behaving all night. But you keep teasing me and you make it pretty damn hard to behave when you have me wanting you this badly"

"Soon baby" You say with a smile. "I don't wanna rush us" And you didn't, you wanted to savor every last second with Bucky, enjoying each moment slowly. He lowered himself a bit more, now hovering over you on top of you. He leaned down to your ear, and whispered in a deep, seductive voice.

"But I want you so badly doll..."

"Too bad, I'm not the kind of girl to do such things on the first date" You say, playfully. And you weren't that type of girl, and your best friend wouldn't change your rules like that. He groaned in frustration as you responded playfully, teasing him again. He wasn't being serious, but the temptation was strong and it was getting harder to resist the urge to take you right there on the couch. He smirked and responded to you in a deep, seductive voice.

"What about on the second date?"

"You are too much" You say laughing, Bucky soon joins in on the laughter. He leaned down even closer to your face, now mere inches away. He could feel his self-control slipping away. His voice turned even deeper and more seductive as he spoke.

"What can I say doll... You bring it out of me. You have me wanting you, wanting you so bad..."

"How about you take me on a fancy date soon, and see if you get lucky" You say with a smirk, you knew already he definitely would get lucky, if you could make it to the date, he was so tempting, so perfect. 

"Hmm I think I like the sound of that doll... I'll make sure to spoil you. Get your favorite flowers, take you to a nice restaurant, and shower you in gifts until you give in..."

You giggle softly, he presses kisses to your face as he speaks. "Sounds perfect Bucks" He loved your laughter and playful teasing as usual. The sound made his heart jump, but it was the nickname that got him. He leaned down closer to your ear and spoke in a seductive whisper.

"You're going to be the death of me doll... I really like when you call me that..."

"I am so glad our dates decided to stand us up" You say, a soft smiling on your lips. 

"I'm glad too doll, I wouldn't change a thing. I feel like I'm in heaven right now."

"Me too" You whisper, agreeing. He leaned down, closing the small gap between you to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. The feeling of finally having the woman he loved, and hearing her say those words, overwhelmed him and filled his heart to bursting. He deepened the kiss, holding you close to his body, loving every moment. It was all he ever wanted, and he never wanted to let you go.

[dichenlachmandaily]

Spoilers follow for Severance season two episode seven, “Chikhai Bardo.”

No, “Chikhai Bardo” isn’t a bottle episode. Instead, Severance gave us something even better: answers. Tragic but legitimate answers. The latest episode confirms Gemma (Dichen Lachman) is alive and being held against her will on one of Lumon’s severed floors, having gotten there, as we see through flashbacks, after being marked by one of the company’s doctors (Robby Benson) at a fertility clinic. The episode bounces around the highs and lows of Mark (Adam Scott) and Gemma’s relationship — their meet-cute at a university blood donation drive, their surprisingly enjoyable dinners with Devon and Ricken, her miscarriage — interspersed with scenes of Gemma’s captive life following a car crash implied to be staged by the company. Inside Lumon, Gemma’s life is overseen by a nurse (Sandra Bernhard), who marches her through a rotation of severed doors and into rooms where her various Innies are forced to endure scenarios with Benson’s doctor that range from the annoying to the traumatic.

When Gemma’s mad dash of an escape plan — knocking the doctor unconscious and briefly reembodying Ms. Casey on another severed floor — fails at episode’s end, she seemingly resigns herself to a prisoner’s existence without parole. Lachman believes her character still has hope of being released and reuniting with her husband when the experiment concludes. “But they’re always changing the rules of the game for her,” she says. “They just keep moving the goalposts.”

As someone of the belief that Gemma was brain-dead and living as a subconscious entity, it was lovely to see her alive despite the awful circumstances surrounding her existence. When I read season one, I had that theory too. I didn’t quite understand what was happening. I was like, Has her brain been affected and they’re trying to rebuild her?

Did you know Gemma would get her own stand-alone episode when you first started filming Severance? I definitely wasn’t aware in season one that this would happen. As the scripts for season two started coming in, I was like, Oh, okay. I’m not in this episode, and I’m not in the next one. Did I do something wrong? Then Dan Erickson talked me through how it was going to play out. It was really exciting. At the same time, I felt a lot of pressure. I didn’t want to let the fans down. This is obviously something they’ve been waiting for. I was really scared.

What scared you the most?Having to jump between lighter and darker moments, and the scope of it was so large. Knowing we’d have a very limited time to do it and then doing the flashbacks on film. I know Jessica Lee Gagné, the director, had always envisioned using film and it was her goal. When I started my career, we used to shoot on film all the time, but then digital became the preferred medium because it never ends and there’s more freedom. With film, there’s only so much; you could run out in the middle of a scene. You don’t want to make a mistake because it’s an actual, physical thing an image is getting printed onto.

The big connection we get this episode is when Lumon’s doctor spots Gemma at a fertility clinic before her car accident. His eyes linger on her for a beat, but Gemma and Mark don’t clock him in the waiting area. Oh, you got that?

Not the first time!I’m so glad.

Can you tell me a bit about how this scene was staged?Jessica has been integral to setting the tone and mood of Severance. She’s phenomenally talented and has such a unique eye, but she’s really good at doing things subtly. That scene had a lot of technical stuff. One of the great things about that moment is that even though the shots, framing, and camerawork are really technical — more than I’ve ever done in my entire life on any show — it always goes back to how they can keep it real and grounded among all of that chaos. There was a lot of stuff they had to do and capture so the audience could have that little moment, which is so subtle, so I’m impressed you picked up on it. I just remember focusing on what Gemma was feeling and us talking about the mood and temperament.

Given what we learn about this doctor throughout the episode, what did you infer about the motivations behind Gemma’s staged death? Did this man target her specifically because of a weird infatuation, or is a fertility clinic just an ideal location for Lumon to scope out potential subjects? That fertility clinic is a place where they have access to people’s biometric data. I suppose it’s the perfect place to zone in on a target. The whole world they live in is filled with Lumon employees, businesses, and stuff like that. I have my own fan theories, but I think what you said — a place where they’re getting people’s blood and their DNA — is probably the best theory.

The other person Gemma interacts with is Sandra Bernhard’s nurse. How would you define their relationship? Are there any sympathies there? In my mind, her nurse has been there for a while. Sandra brought an incredible warmth to that role, even in playing a captor. She brought almost a motherly feeling to it even though it’s still very cold, controlled, and oppressive down there. Maybe it’s just her eyes. Or maybe she was working on something with the character that I wasn’t aware of, but their dynamic is really interesting. I think she has compassion for Gemma. She’s just doing her job, but there’s a humanity to her.

Inside those rooms, Gemma’s Innies are forced to play out different scenarios: A dental patient getting work done, a passenger in a crashing airplane, and a wife at Christmas forced to write thank-you notes. The doctor inquired if Gemma felt “despair” after leaving any of them. How do you view what this experiment is trying to accomplish? I think it’s leaning into something that’s happening within our culture, which is that we don’t want to experience anything unpleasant. To some degree, I totally understand. In season one, you have the birthing center. That’s one of the most painful things you could experience in your whole life — I would know. What if you could delegate that experience to someone so you didn’t have to go through the pain? Even though, as a human being, there’s some ownership of that. Going through it and having a connection to the child is so beautiful. But we kind of want to get on a prescription of not having to suffer. If you think of it from a pharmaceutical point of view, it’s like, “We’re just taking it up a notch. You hate going to the dentist? We’ve got you. We’ll send somebody else, but you’ll still be going to the dentist.” Or having the fear of flying. I know Dan loathes writing thank-you notes — not because he’s ungrateful but because sometimes it’s so hard to figure out what to say to express your gratitude. I’ve done this before when I’ve worked on a movie: I’ve written 80 thank-you notes to all the crew members and they all start sounding the same. You lose your creativity, and you’re struggling to figure out a way to say “thank you” in a different way so that if someone reads someone else’s card, they’re not like, Oh, this isn’t personal. It says the same thing.

So you don’t view this technology as being strictly malicious in intent? Yeah. It could go further, of course. That’s the thing with technology: The intention is always to make someone’s life a little bit easier. Then it becomes integrated into our life. Everything is a double-edged sword. It’s our job as human beings to try and find the balance. We’re in a world where we have AI and robots. We’re creating a world where we don’t even need to exist, in a way. What’s really cool about the show is it gets people to ask themselves about their relationship to technology or their relationship to having contrast in their life. You don’t get to experience pleasure, joy, or something that tastes really amazing if you don’t get the sad moments, too. When you’re severed, you don’t have contrast. The weekend isn’t as good because you’re perpetually experiencing only the good things. Those good feelings just become feelings and are not special anymore.

You get one of the best lines of the season when Gemma is being examined by that doctor after visiting some of the rooms: “Can you please just talk like a normal person?” She’s saying what viewers are thinking, and it made me laugh.The whole language is a bit culty. They have their own way of communicating. The words they use are so bizarre. I tried reading that line in many different ways and played with intensity. It was stretching me as an artist. I’ve never had the opportunity to explore and collaborate as much as I did on this show. I could have said “Can you please just talk like a normal person?” 15 or 16 times, maybe more, and every time it would’ve been a little different.

Did you get the sense Gemma had tried to escape before? There’s this comment Mr. Drummond gives the doctor midway through the episode about how she once tried to break his fingers. It struck me as very fight-or-flight. Yes. I picked up on that same line when I was reading the script. Jessica and I talked about it a lot. I think every now and then, Gemma has been like, Screw it. I’m going to go for it. I don’t care if I have to hit him over the head or break his hand. Then there are days where she feels like it’s pointless, but then she’ll get pushed and pushed harder and she’ll try again. She’ll never be able to escape. Her tolerance level will go back to baseline, and it’ll build up and she’ll try again.

We’ve seen how people involved in the severance program can be driven to madness; Helly tries to kill herself in the first season. Where does Gemma find the strength to continue on in this prison of a life? Based on the scenes she has with the doctor just before she hits him over the head, I feel like there’s been some promises made: “Oh, you just have to do this and that”; “Look, it’s for your own good”; “Now you just have to get through this.”

How many takes did you get to whack Robby with a chair? Was it oddly satisfying?You know what? That’s something we didn’t do as many times as some of the other scenes. It wasn’t too complicated. Robby is such an amazing person. He was lying on the floor for hours, just so dedicated to this role he was playing. The man is a machine. I felt really bad. I’m like, “Oh, Robby, I’m sorry.” It was just about getting the chair at the right angle so that we could sell it, because obviously I couldn’t hit him over the head.

At one point, Gemma directly asks the doctor what will happen when her Innie “sees all of the rooms.” What do you think will happen?Gemma thinks that when she’s done, she’ll get out of there and be free. That’s what she wants. Ultimately, toward the end, she resigns herself to being there. When she comes out of the elevator, knowing her escape plan didn’t work, she feels so broken. Well, that’s it. I’m never going to get out of here. That’s why she has to be picked up off the floor by Sandra’s character. In my head, when she’s tried to escape previously, she’s probably fought them all on the way out. Like, What am I doing back here? But when she falls to the floor into a puddle, calling Mark’s name, it’s just like, I can’t anymore. There’s nothing else I can do.

You previously portrayed a multiverse-programmed character in Dollhouse, which shares a few creative parallels to Severance. Your work in Altered Carbon also explored how consciousness can be “resleeved” into different bodies. What makes you excel at portraying so many distinctive personas in one human? Maybe I willed it into my life because I love exploring these concepts, I love science fiction, and I absolutely feel like it’s somewhere where my creativity thrives. I feel so blessed that I’ve gotten to do it in different eras. Altered Carbon is hundreds of years in the future, where severance technology has completely changed the way people live and given them the ability to live forever. Dollhouse is more contemporary. Severance is this timeless era. It’s quite strange and weird.

[queenariesofnarnia]

the future mrs. torres part 2 {j.t}

gif not mine!

wc: 987

part 1��

part 2 because @lovely-foxes-exe asked so kindly🩵 hope you feel better soon hun!!

🩵🩵🩵🩵

Sam did let you move in, he missed having you around. Best believe that you and Joaquin made it your mission to annoy Sam at every moment you could. You met his mom and abuela on facetime, a few days after he claimed you’re his future wife. They were the sweetest ladies ever, you even gave his mom your number so she can send you some baby pictures of him that you absolutely gushed over. You even sent her some of your own baby pictures. You may have ended up in Joaquin’s bed a couple of times and he ended up in yours too. You’ve been on quite a few dates. Especially since the initial interaction between the two of you there was an instant connection. You spent weeks getting to know each other, finding out what made each other laugh, what things you each couldn’t stand, and what made you the most emotional. The first date you went on was to the aquarium, it was definitely because you quoted the little mermaid the day you met. From that point on you always had the best dates whether they were at home or on a little adventure. 

By six months into dating you’ve already visited his mom and abuela, and they adored having you visit. His mom started calling you her daughter and his abuela insisted that it was okay for you to call her that as well. You started having weekly facetime calls with them and it was one of the highlights of your week. Sam and Bucky gave Joaquin a serious ‘fatherly’ talk about being with you, they were happy for the two of you but fiercely protected you. There were times you even joked with Sam to address you as Mrs. Torres just to see Joaquin’s reaction and he would have the goofiest smile on his face every time he heard you say it. When it was coming up on the two of you being together for a year Joaquin asked Sam for permission to marry you. Sam of course said yes, after giving him a hard time of course. 

Joaquin was nervous planning the anniversary date, so he called his mom to help him plan everything out. He showed her the ring that he picked for you, and she gushed over it. 

“She’s going to love it” his mom reassured him. “Where are you taking her?” she asked. 

“To a fondue restaurant, she is obsessed with cheese” he said with a smile. His mom was really excited for him. 

“Go get ready and send pictures! Love you mijo!”

“Love you too ma” he says before hanging up getting ready, he went for a black button up and black pants tucking the ring in his pocket.

 You were in your room preparing for the date option for a little black dress moment with some tights and heels like Fran Fine. You double check yourself in the mirror before making your way to the living room. Joaquin was standing there looking scrumptious waiting for you. 

“You look good pretty boy” you compliment wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands immediately went to your waist.

“You look beautiful pretty girl” he smiles kissing your forehead. Sam came bursting in like a mom on prom day.

“Let me get some pictures kids” he says pulling his phone out to take pictures “Smile pretty so I can send these to Isaiah and Buck” you both laughed at his antics as he took multiple pictures. 

“Be safe kids” he calls out the door after you two. You shook your head laughing, tossing your car keys to Joaquin. He unlocks the car opening the door for you before getting in himself. During the drive he held your hand gently stroking the back of it with his thumb. When he pulled up to the fondue restaurant you were extremely excited.

“Should’ve worn something stretchy instead” you joked, making him laugh heartily. You two were led to a private table where there was a bouquet of red roses waiting for you. Thanking him profusely you set them to your side reaching across the table to hold his hand.

“Pretty girls deserve pretty flowers” he says smiling at you. When the waiter came by the two of you ordered the type of cheese you wanted to try first. As the dinner went on through each course the ring was burning a whole in his pocket as you waited for dessert to come. When it was finally time for dessert that’s when he became extra antsy. He planned with the restaurant for this dessert. He gave one waitress his phone to record it for them. The waiter brought out a plate of chocolate covered strawberries placing it in front of you. You planned on taking a picture first before you read what the chocolate writing said 

‘Will you be the future Mrs. Torres?’ gasping you look up to Joaquin who got down on one knee while you read the plate, the ring box held the most stunning ring you’ve seen. 

“So future Mrs. Torres now?” he asked smiling. You nod enthusiastically.

“Yes” you said your voice cracking a bit. He slid the ring on your finger, kissing your hand. 

You stand up kissing him quickly being mindful that you’re in a restaurant still. The wait staff applauded you both. The waitress with the phone ended the recording handing it back to Joaquin, wishing you both congratulations. He kept his phone out to take more pictures of you to send to his mom and abuela. Making sure there was one of you holding up the bouquet and your hand (his new lock screen). 

“I’m so glad I said you were going to be my future wife when I met you” he says eating a chocolate covered strawberry. 

“I’m glad you did too” I smile at him fondly. “I can’t wait to be Mrs. Torres”