#I hope he knows how much he is loved and missed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

frenchkisstheabyss · 2 days ago

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♡ ʜᴏᴛ ɢɪʀʟ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪꜱᴛ: ᴍɪɴɢʏᴜ ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!mingyu x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: smut/angst/fluff

♡ Summary: A night out with your boyfriend takes an unexpected turn when his ex shows up at the same party with her heart set on getting him back. After catching her flirting with him you run off, deciding to continue your night without him but Mingyu's not letting you go so easily. He comes after you with full intentions of showing you that you're the only girl he wants and he'll do whatever it takes to prove it.

♡ Warnings: drinking, mingyu has a lil switch energy, dirty talk, some very wet oral sex (f receiving), mingyu loves your clit, tongue fucking, pussy drunk mingyu, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, spanking, scratching, manhandling, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, pet names (baby, princess)

♡ A/N: Hello my darlings. This is the second entry or "track" in my Hot Girl Playlist series. This is the ✨masterlist✨ if you wanna check it out. As a chubby Mingyu biased babe I low-key had too much fun making this but, like, is that even possible? Anyways, I hope you have fun reading, my loves xoxoxo

“Bout 20 missed calls he faded. White boy wasted, Channing Tatum” - Megan thee Stallion

“Girl that man is blowing your phone up” your best friend smirks, squeezing in beside you to check herself out in the mirror. “What’d you lace your pussy with? Crack?”

You almost snort laughing at her comment, “Shut the fuck up.”

“What?” she giggles, eyeing your phone as it vibrates on the edge of the sink, “It’s not my fault the boy’s addicted. You should answer him. You know how Min gets.”

Swiping a sultry nude gloss along the bow of your upper lip, you spare your phone a glance. It flashes a familiar name accompanied by a photo of you with the man in question. It’s a selfie from the last beach trip you took together. Your soft lips are pressed to his cheek and he’s making the cutest face, his nose scrunched up at the warmth your kiss sends rushing to his face. You vividly remember how happy the two of you were that day but right now happiness is the last thing that comes to mind when you think of him.

Your phone stops ringing and for a moment there’s nothing. Only the muffled sound of music bleeding in from a party raging just beyond the door. And then another vibration. A text message.

Mingyu: Where are you? Did you leave?

“He can get however he wants” you huff, shoving your phone into your purse, “He’ll get over it or he won’t. Either way.”

“Cold blooded” she teases, shaking her head, “Who knew you could be such a brat?”

A brat? You aren’t being a brat. Well, maybe a little but it’s not like you don’t have good reason to be. You know for a fact that she’d be livid if she were in your position. Five minutes. That’s how long you left Mingyu alone before his ex was all over him. You’ve never been ignorant to the possibility that he’d run into her again. They travel in the same social circles so it was bound to happen at some point. What you didn’t expect was for it to sting this much when it did.

Your mind cruelly plays back the image of Mingyu’s ex cuddled up beside him on the couch, her fingertips at the ready to stroke his pecs through his shirt. To his credit, he did grab her by the wrist, saying something to her that you couldn’t quite make out. Whatever it was, it was clear from the look on her face that she didn’t like it, but it wasn’t until she noticed you approaching that she scurried back to where she came from.

He swore on his life that it was nothing. She’d come over flirting, he told her he had a girlfriend, and that was the end of it. But you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing him as to why she felt so comfortable coming over to begin with. Why was he just sitting there? Why didn’t he kick her clean across the room before she even managed to get that close?

Maybe that last one was a bit irrational but you were pissed. Making sense was the last thing on your mind. You walked off before he could answer, deciding that you weren’t gonna let this ruin your night out. If he wanted to stick around he had his own friends to hang with. You’d go off and do your own thing. You look way too good in this dress to let it go to waste.

Mingyu started blowing your phone up almost immediately. Call after call with frantic texts sprinkled in between. You were positive that he must be searching every floor of this house to find you but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when you were busy downing shots and shaking ass on your bestie like she was your man. That distracted you from your emotions long enough but staring at your reflection in the mirror now you feel your gut twisting, a hint of sadness lingering behind your eyes.

“I’m heading back out. You ready?” your best friend asks, heading for the door.

You force a smile, pretending to dig through your purse for something. “I’ll be out in a sec. Meet me downstairs by the bar?”

“Fine but hurry up. I told those dudes we’d kick their asses in beer pong and I refuse to be proven wrong.”

“Because god forbid we ruin your beloved beer pong streak” you tease and she lovingly flips you off on her way out.

You keep that fake smile plastered on your face until you’re sure she’s gone and the second she is you deflate. You want so badly to keep up the facade of a girl unphased by anything but you’re phased. You’re phased so hard and nothing can change that. No amount of shots will make you forget how your heart sunk to the floor at the sight of them together.

You recall hearing that his ex was a model. She’d walked at New York Fashion Week once and made it into a few ads. By the looks of her you can believe it. It hurts to admit but the girl was gorgeous. What if, somewhere in the back of Mingyu’s mind, seeing her made him regret his decision? Your spiraling thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the bathroom door that forces you out of your own head.

“Someone’s in here!” you shout but the door knob’s still turning. Thank god you aren’t on the toilet right now. “I said someone’s in here!”

“I heard you,” Mingyu says as he forces his way inside, slamming the door behind him.

He gives you no time to process, pinning you against the sink before you can react. Muscular arms cage you in on each side, as his dark eyes stare into yours, his gaze sharp enough to slice you to pieces.

“I’ve called you, like, 20 times. Why aren’t you answering?”

You sigh, in no mood to be interrogated, “I don’t know, Min. I haven’t really been checking my phone.”

Mingyu sucks his teeth, the veins in his arms flexing as his grip tightens around the edge of the sink. “That’s bullshit. I know you’ve been ignoring me.”

You can tell by the rosy tint of his cheeks that he’s been drinking more than he should. If you’re being honest, you have been too. The mature thing would be to wait until you’re both sober to have this conversation but that ship has sailed.

“I haven’t been ignoring you, you’re just wasted and paranoid” you snap, seeing nothing wrong with a bit of gaslighting under the circumstances.

“Wasted and paranoid?” he scoffs, “Projecting a little bit aren’t we?”

“Oh, fuck you. Get off me.”

You place your hands on his chest with every intention to push him away but when he hangs his head, regret washing over his face, you can’t bring yourself to do it.

“Fuck, I’m sorry” he says through a curtain of silky dark hair, “I shouldn’t have said that. I just don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“I don’t know how to not be mad, Min” you say, the sincerity in his voice tugging at your heartstrings, “I thought that part of your life was over.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair, meeting your eyes with a gaze that’s much softer now. “It is over. It has been for a long time. If I knew she was gonna be here we never would’ve come. That girl doesn’t mean anything to me. You’re the only one who does.”

When you turn your head away leaving a long span of silence where your words should be, he cups your cheek, forcing you to look at him. His thumb sweeps gently across your cheek and you melt like ice cream on a sunny day. You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol or the ex thing but you’re hit with a sudden wave of emotion, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I just don’t want you to regret choosing me” you confess, your voice breaking as you fight back tears.

Mingyu can never stand to see you cry and it breaks him to know that you might, especially over something like this. “How can I regret choosing you when you aren’t optional? It’s not her or you. It’s just you. I love you. You have to know that.” You sniffle, a tear racing over the curve of your cheek. Mingyu wipes it away, the pad of his thumb soothing the spot where it fell.

“Tell me you know that” he pleads, leaning in to brush his lips against yours, “I love you. What do I have to do for you to believe me? You want me to get down on my knees?”

“I—” you start to speak but he’s already dropping to his knees, looking up at you with the sweetest doe eyes. “Get up off the floor.”

Mingyu rests his chin against the softness of your thighs, delighting in their warmth. “No. Not until you believe me” he says, planting tender kisses where your thighs meet, “If my word’s not good enough maybe my actions can be.”

You snake your fingers through his hair, gently tugging his head back but his lips are drawn to your body like magnets. They’re back on you in an instant, his tongue dragging across the surface of your skin as his lips find their way to the hem of your dress. You watch with bated breath as Mingyu grabs you by the hips, gathering the fabric of your dress between his fingers. He raises it little by little, each kiss inching him closer and closer to his final destination.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your body tingling in all the places his lips meet.

How demure of you to ask that question when you already know the answer. You know very well why he’s pushing this skin tight black dress up over your waist, his tongue teasing the silk trim of your panties. The emotions you’re feeling tonight are enough to give you whiplash. One minute you’re storming off, the next you’re on the verge of tears, and now your pussy’s wetter than a faucet. What’s a girl to do?

Throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, Mingyu buries his face between your thighs, his nose grazing the spot where your stiff little clit has just begun to throb. He nuzzles against it, sending faint notes of pleasure rippling through you.

He draws in a deep breath, salivating at your scent. “You always smell so fucking good, baby” he hums, stroking the growing wet spot in your panties. “Always so wet for me too.”

Mingyu tucks your panties to the side and you release the lightest moan at the sensation of the cool air meeting your dripping core. At the same time your nipples tighten behind the fabric of your dress and the combination leaves you purring. Your boyfriend’s not faring any better. He was hard before he got down here, just the thought of tasting you had gotten him there, but seeing your pussy be so pretty and wet has his cock pulsing against the unforgiving material of his pants.

If only you could feel how badly he wants you—how he craves you every day in more ways than one—maybe then you wouldn’t question his devotion. When you wouldn’t answer his calls he swore up and down that he wouldn’t just let you get away with it only to fold for you in under a minute. He’s quite literally on his knees for you but there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

“Aah, Min…” you whine when he plunges a finger into your warmth.

Your purse tumbles to the ground, the contents spilling across the tile floor as you prop your elbows back up against the sink. A clumsy attempt at keeping your trembling body from giving out on you. It’s mind blowing how just one finger can feel this good. How such delicate strokes can make your walls clench so tightly.

“You want more?” Mingyu asks, glancing up to you. He already has the next finger at the ready, ghosting your slit. You rock your hips towards that sickeningly handsome face of his and he sticks his tongue out, letting it glide over your clit. “Use your words, princess. I need you to say it. You want one more?” He introduces a third, stretching you open just enough to tease you with them. “Two more?”

Your pussy’s aching, your walls fluttering wildly, doing everything to draw him in. You part your lips and the sexiest, neediest voice comes out. “Mmm, two more. Please, Min.”

Mingyu smiles, giving you exactly what you asked for. You were so polite with it. How could he ever deny you? It takes little effort on his part to guide the other two into you. Your pussy’s so eager that it sucks them right up, your juices saturating his fingers so that every movement makes a delicious squelching sound. It’d be a nice form of payback to toy with you for a while—make you beg for his attention after denying him of yours for the past hour—but that’d be torturing himself too. The taste of your clit lingers on his tongue and he knows that if he doesn’t have more he’ll go insane.

His mouth crashes into you, his tongue hungrily lapping at your pussy like it’s the first thing he’s had all night. It may not be the first thing but it’s hands down the best. The satisfied groans he makes while circling your clit do more than enough to tell you so. It’s hard to keep yourself upright when he’s eating you out like this, his fingers drilling into you, stretching you so perfectly that your thigh’s quaking on his shoulder. You press your lips together, doing your best to keep quiet, but Mingyu will have none of that. He knows exactly where your sweet spot is and he hits it every time, destroying any chance you have at being quiet.

“Don’t hold back, baby” he coos, pulling back to show you a face drenched in your juices, “I wanna hear all those pretty moans while you come on my face.”

Slipping his fingers out of you, Mingyu grips your hips, lifting you onto the counter like it’s nothing. It stings when your plush ass hits the polished marble but there’s no time to process if there’s truly any pain. Mingyu’s hands are on your thighs, dragging you to the edge of the counter and spreading your legs wide. He dives back in, his tongue filling the space where his fingers once were. With one hand full of your soft belly, he uses the other to play with your clit, pressing down on the bud as his tongue rides the ridges of your walls.

You let your moans flow freely, all of the shyness leaving your body the moment his tongue enters it. You catch yourself feeling light headed and you know for sure this time that it isn’t the alcohol. Your hips stutter and Mingyu locks eyes with you, both of you knowing how dangerously close you are to your high. He moves faster—messier—slurping you down. You extend a shaky hand between your legs, lovingly petting his cheek as he pushes you to the brink.

He locks his arms around your thighs, forcing you to stay in place while you squirt down his throat. Your body twists in his grip but it’s no match for his strength. You can’t run from this. He wants you to feel it and fuck do you feel it. Your vision goes blurry and you swear you go deaf for a minute. By the time you’re coming down you aren’t even sure which planet you’re on.

Mingyu takes his time standing up, getting his last few licks in as he rises. He’s so drunk off of your pussy that the room’s spinning a bit when he comes up. He clings to the counter for support, his lips glistening with your cum as he stands over you looking like he wants more. Sitting up, you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in for a sloppy, breathless kiss that tastes entirely of you.

“You said you love me, Min?” you whisper between his lips. You sneak a hand between the two of you, rolling your palm against his bulge.

Mingyu nods, moaning as he leans into your touch, “Mmhmm, love you so much.”

Popping the button on his jeans open, you slide the zipper down, dipping a hand into his boxers to stroke his length. “Then fuck me like you do.”

Your words are like gasoline to a flame that’s been raging inside of him since he planted that first kiss on your thigh. You’ve barely even finished your sentence when he’s sliding you off the counter, the back of your dress bunched up in his hand as he bends you over the sink.

“Ooh, someone’s excited” you giggle, squealing as he snatches your panties down hard enough to make them rip. “I hope you know you’re buying me new ones.”

You poke your ass out and he gives it a harsh slap just to watch it jiggle. “Keep being this cute and I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

“In that case, I did see some shoes I liked the other day and…aaah”

Mingyu rubs the tip of his cock against your entrance and you’re dizzier than you've ever been. He’s not even in yet, just barely stretching you open, but you’re so sensitive from your last orgasm that a light breeze could make you shiver.

Mingyu’s eyes flit back and forth between two visions he wishes he could burn into his brain. First there’s the reflection of you in the mirror, so pretty your bottom lip wedged between your teeth, hips rocking as he presses into you. And then there’s that glorious space between your legs, so creamy and warm, trickling juices with every inch it’s fed. The whimper that escapes him when he bottoms out makes you clamp down on him, his cock twitching in your core, his arousal slicking your walls.

Grabbing your ass cheeks, he spreads you open, stretching you wider. “You know who this cock belongs to. Don’t you, baby?”

“I…I don’t know” you tease, “Is it mine?”

Mingyu draws back a bit, thrusting into you so that your lush breasts bounce from the impact. “You tell me.” He pulls back again, his hips snapping into you even rougher. “Does it feel like it’s yours?”

“Aah, fuck, yes it’s mine” you moan, heels scraping against the tile as your back arches.

He rewards a good answer with an increase in pace, each stroke faster than the last. If Mingyu had to compare being inside you to any feeling in the world he wouldn’t be able to do it. His brain can’t grasp a single thing on this planet that can even come close to this. You could stimulate all his senses at one time, flood them with every pleasure known to man, and it’d still be nothing compared to you.

In the midst of your own bliss you catch glimpses of him behind you, fucking you like it’s all he was ever made for. He’s ready to unravel over you and the knowledge of what you’re doing to him only heightens what you feel.

“Love you, Min” you whisper back at him, properly returning his affection for the first time tonight. You say it like you mean it. Your insecurities wilting away to leave nothing but pure admiration for the man who loves you.

It hits Mingyu hard, the pressure inside of him reaching its peak. He clenches his teeth, nails scraping along the swollen flesh of your ass. He’s holding back so hard that it hurts, refusing to let himself reach his high before you do.

Reaching behind you, you gently stroke the back of his hand, “Come for me, mmph, wanna feel you.”

Your voice rings in his ears, making him lose any shred of sanity he had left. Hot ropes of cum spurt from the head of his cock, hitting you right where it needs to and you’re falling apart right along with him. Mingyu doesn’t let up on you, the juices spilling from your walls only making him want you more. No matter how messy—how sticky, how wet—he wants every bit of you until there’s nothing left.

“Fuck, I think I’m dying” he gasps, his heart pounding as he peels himself away from you. He’s only halfway through fixing his pants when his balance gives out and he slumps to the floor.

You turn around to find him sitting there, your own limbs barely keeping you up. “You’re not dying. You’re just dehydrated. Want some water?”

Lugging yourself over to him, you collapse onto his lap and he doesn’t hesitate to take you into his arms. You rest your head on his shoulder and he takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“No thank you. I already have what I want” he smiles, kissing your inner wrist.

You want to scold him—tell him that no, actually he does need some water—but you let it go. Choosing instead to enjoy the warmth of being in his arms as his kisses make their way from your wrist to your fingertips. Mingyu worships you, honestly and truly, and it’s about time you just let him.

#mingyu x you #mingyu x reader #mingyu angst #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen angst #seventeen smut #svt x you #svt x reader #svt smut #svt angst #chubby reader #plus size reader

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flaminhotlili · 2 days ago

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regular things that get them horny.

synopsis — what the title says <3

warnings — implied nsfw content mdni please or i will steal ur kneecaps, afab!reader, teasing... i might've missed smt lmk if i did !

featuring — xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, & caleb (separate fics)

notes — i was not expecting the flurry of notes i received in my first ever written post ... thank u sm for the likes and reblogs they're much appreciated ily all sm <3333 this is still unedited because i'm tired :p - feedback is much appreciated btw !

Xavier gets incredibly turned on whenever he sees you stretch. Thanks to all the reports you need to fulfill after missions, he often spots you at your desk with your arms up and your back arched. You would let out a little groan after stretching, which doesn’t help his running imagination. Your uniform, which you often unbutton while doing paperwork, lifts up with your arms, giving Xavier a peek of the skin underneath your clothes. He could barely look away, let alone tell himself to calm down before he embarrasses himself. Your eyes would meet his, and Xavier gulps when he sees you smirk. “Enjoying yourself, partner?” you teased. Xavier doesn’t respond, instead deciding to adjust how he sits at his desk, hoping his bulge would calm down eventually.

Zayne can never control himself when he sees you wearing his clothes. Whether it’s a t-shirt, a button-up, a jacket, it never fails to drive him up a wall with how intimate it is for him to be sharing something that's his. The material is always too big on you, hanging a few inches above your knees - and you know that he knows you rarely ever wear anything underneath either. He loves seeing you walk around the house, to which he pulls you onto his lap with a deep kiss. “I had been looking for this shirt for a while now.” he said against your lips, his tongue darting out to lick at your neck. You shivered, “Well, it’s mine now. Unless you try to get it back.” Zayne smirked, taking on your little challenge as his hands slid under your (his) shirt.

Rafayel gets excited whenever you wear glasses. While you looked pretty much the same with your wire-framed glasses, he swears up and down that you looked like a completely transformed person. “I’ve never seen you this serious, cutie.” he said, staring at you from across the table with his cheek resting against his palm. You ignored his comment, probably because you were too engrossed in your work and you didn’t hear him, or you were purposely ignoring him to stay focused at your work. Either way, he bit his bottom lip to prevent a moan from erupting out of his mouth - the concentrated look on your face was like the cherry on top.

Sylus can’t help himself whenever you touch him casually. Your relationship had come a long way, and it clearly took great effort on your part to finally be able to feel him without flinching. It could be as simple as holding hands under the table, or your head resting on his shoulder, it would be more than enough to have him breathing in heavy sighs. “Keep doing that, sweetie.” he gently demands you as you trail your hands over his shoulders and over the expanse of his wide chest. You bit your lip as you settled more comfortably on his lap, allowing your hands to travel more over his body. “You like that?” you asked, your fingers grazing over his cheek. Sylus takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it firmly; that was his answer.

Caleb can’t help but get turned on when you cook. It’s something about the domesticity of it all, and the intimacy of you making a meal with him in mind. You rarely ever get the chance to cook something for him, because he loves being the chef in the relationship. Caleb wraps his arms around you from behind, breathing in the scent of your hair as well as the scent of the braised beef you were preparing on the stove. “Smells pretty good, Pipsqueak.” he murmured against your head. His hands slowly travel south, and he can’t help the grin on his lips when he feels you squirming under his touch. “C-Caleb, you have to eat…” you sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder. Caleb hummed and began placing kisses over your exposed neck, “Mmm, I think I want to taste something else first…” he whispered.

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blueivyy99 · 19 hours ago

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Calm and Serenity (Part 3)

Sylus x Non!MC

summary: you didn't know what sylus saw in you. he said you were calm, quiet and serene and that's what he needs. you believed it. he showed it. not until little miss hunter came. she's everything you're not. news that she's in danger can make the ever so calm sylus to run and leave everything behind. it made you think, would he do that for you as well?

tags: angst, romance, hurt and comfort, confused sylus, non-mc reader (this is it for now)

taglist: @fcknblsht @aboobie @nin10doo @ixloom819 @damatically @sylusgirlie7 @stellisangelicus-world @kira-loves0905 @wanderlustingcastaway @browneyedgirl22 @lumieresdreams

notes: thank you for the love in the last chapter 😭😭😭 I WAS SO OVERWHELMED OMG though I can't reply one by one, i read them all and thoroughly enjoyed and basked in them ❤️ hope you enjoy this.

Part 1 Part 2

Sweet Evil Trap

Pepper walnut tart, rosemary gelato, pomegranate jelly, red wine marshmallow, and 10.5 grams of soul.

Description:

I'm waiting for you

You're pathetic.

That's what you tell yourself as your hands tremble at Elysium's menu. The one that is always unavailable whenever you go there and rumors say that it was never available at all.

Now you understand why.

After reading everything in Sylus's journal, you started investigating the things that don't make sense to you. You already know that they spent past lives together and their souls are tied with each other. Everything makes sense except this one.

There was no context about Sweet Evil Trap in his notebook but your memory took you back to countless night outs here in Elysium to recall the name of this dessert.

10.5 grams of soul.

You chuckled bitterly. Half of his soul is hers. Always for her. In every goddamn lifetime.

Where were you in this narrative? What piece of him do you have? Certainly not his heart if there are still traces of Miss Hunter in every corner of N109 Zone.

I'm waiting for you.

Yeah right. He's been waiting for years, lifetime even. So what were you doing here? What's your role in this?

A past time?

Someone to warm his bed?

Did he truly love you in the span of your relationship? You tried to keep your tears at bay, but they fell one after the other.

You and Miss Hunter are entirely different. She's fun, bright, and full of sunshine. She can even hold herself in a fight.

You?

You're just you. A jack of all trades. Can do everything but not the best at anything. You can fight, but surely after two or three wanderers you're gone. You're funny at best, but even that you're not that sure because she can make Sylus laugh more than you did.

In short, she's everything you're not. She's everything Sylus wanted and it really really pisses you off because you fucking loved him and yet …

yet …

Even if you gave it your all, he doesn't really see you. He's with you but he's yearning for someone else. And you're so so stupid because you're still staying. You're still hoping that even if she has returned, Sylus will see your worth. That he will change his mind.

That maybe he will choose you.

Maybe he realized you're the one he loved, not her. That maybe, he's willing to defy fate just to be with you.

It was a small hope. But it's there. Because you wanted to hold on for as long as you can. You wanted to love him until it hurts. You want to stay for as long as he doesn't let you go.

And even if you will scold yourself in the future when you remember what you're doing now, you will still try.

You can feel that he sensed that something is off with you; he is perceptive after all. Because after that night, no matter how much you try to hold yourself together, the cracks in your soul still manifest.

If it were before, you're sure that as soon as he woke up you will be all over him taking care of him and making sure that he is well-fed. But after that incident, you just can't seem to stay close to him. Not for now, at least because you're sure that you will just cry and break.

“What's wrong Little fox?" He asked you one night. You tried to avoid him and planned to hide in the guest room and sleep there, but he looked for you and now he's right there looking at your soul.

“Nothing." You avoided eye contact. You can't. It physically hurts whenever you and he meet gazes. It's as if your mind kept replaying all the things you read in his journal.

He reached out for your hand but you flinched and avoided his touch. His hand paused midair because of it. You don't know what he's thinking now. You don't want to know. You're afraid that what you'll see is insincerity.

“Tell me, sweetie. What's wrong? What happened? You're worrying me," he persisted.

"It's nothing, Sylus. I'm gonna head to bed later. You go ahead first and rest." you turned your back at him and pretended to do something.

You wanted to ask him. You wanted to know.

But you're afraid.

Because what if he tells you the truth and leaves you? Can you bear that?

No. Not yet. Never.

So you kept silent. You won't ask questions that you're not ready to face the answers of.

“My sweet little fox, tell me anything and I will listen. I will do anything for you. Just ask." He kissed your temple before leaving.

His words are so sweet but is there really anything behind it? Is there love? Is there anything real with what you two have?

You kept avoiding and hiding from him. He got enough after two weeks. He backed you in a corner, his large frame making it hard for you to escape.

“Something is definitely wrong and I don't know what it is. It's killing me to see you like this, darling. If you're not gonna talk, then let me take your mind off of things. Go out to dinner with me." He held your chin to make you look at him.

You're trying to avoid his gaze. The fear is consuming you at every second that he is staring you down. Your insecurity and jealousy is winning and your mind can't process that this is real and that this is for you.

“Sy—"

“Shhh," he gave you a quick peck to shut you up. “It's not a request. That's an order. Dinner later. I miss my little fox,"

And thus, here you are at Elysium waiting for him with tears in your eyes. You decided to go ahead. You're sure you can't bear the car ride alone with him and even if he won't press you to open up, you can sense that he wants you to.

Your phone blows up. It's surely him inquiring why you went without him. You can't find it in yourself to even read his messages. It's all too much. Everything is too much.

10.5 grams of soul.

Those words kept ringing in your head. Half of his soul. Half that is not yours. You wiped your tears. You need to calm down. He might be here in a few minutes. You need to at least look presentable.

“Sweetie, why did you leave me?" You heard his voice from your back before his lips were on your cheeks already. “I want to spend some time with you during dinner, yes, but also before and after it."

“Sorry," that's all you can say afraid that he might hear the hoarseness of your voice.

He sighed, “Fine, but you're going home with me."

You didn't reply and he took that as a cue to get your orders ready. The food is good but every bite you chew, you can sense his eyes on you.

“I will melt if you keep staring at me,” you commented. He just smirked.

"Let me enjoy the view.”

You just shook your head. You can't form a reply because the fear and insecurity is kicking in again.

The two of you are silent for a while until Sylus's phone rang. You looked at him, really looked at him for the first time tonight.

There's that glint in his eyes again so you immediately knew who it was.

Miss Hunter.

Your suspicions are proven right when he answered the call. “Hello, Miss Hunter, what can I do for you?"

You bit your lip. You were expecting it but damn it hurts. Not even an apology towards you for interrupting your dinner by answering that call.

"What!? Where are you!?”

Your heart breaks every second. There he is again. Choosing her. That's for sure. You know what will happen next. He will leave, say sorry, and run to her side.

"I'm coming, wait for me! Don't you dare move a muscle.” he ended the call in a haste he was getting ready to leave if he didn't see you across the table.

“Darling, I-I need to leave, she needs me. She's in danger. I will make it up to you, I promise. I'm so sorry,”

But no amount of “sorry" can make up for everything that you're feeling now. Of course, he will go to her. He will always run to her.

His 10.5 grams of soul.

You sighed. You have made up your mind. You will free both of you from the burden of this relationship.

You stood, pulled him for a hug. You hugged him as tightly as you can. “Go, Sylus. I'll be fine."

He hugged you back, and oh god how you will miss that warmth. You can feel your breath getting caught in your lungs, but you have to hold back. Until he turns around at least.

“I'll make it up to you, darling. Wait for me okay? I love you. Luke and Kieran will be here in fifteen minutes. Wait for them. Don't go home alone." That's the last thing you heard from him before he stormed out.

You finally let your tears fall.

It's enough. You had enough.

You will leave his life calmly, quietly. You moved and walked away fast hoping Luke and Kieran won't see you on the streets of N109 Zone.

Part 4 on the weekends (i hope) comments and reaction are welcomeee 🤤

#sylus x non mc #sylus x reader #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #l&ds sylus #love and deepspace sylus

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lazysoulwriter · 1 day ago

Text

paws and love. - charles leclerc.

---

Charles had always been a dog person. Always. And anyone who knew him knew that Leo, his beloved dog, was his pride and joy. They were inseparable—morning runs, boat rides, even lazy afternoons on the couch. Leo had been with him through everything.

And then you came along, a self-proclaimed cat person, completely different from him in that aspect. It became a running joke between you two—dogs vs. cats. He'd tease you about how cold and indifferent cats were, and you'd argue back that they were just selective with their love.

Still, he never really got it—not until he found you curled up on the couch one evening, eyes red, sniffling.

"Mon amour…" He knelt beside you, his brows furrowed in concern. "What’s wrong?"

"I just… I miss them so much." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "My cats. I know it’s stupid, but they’re my family too."

Charles' heart squeezed. He couldn't imagine being away from Leo for that long. If he had to, he'd probably be a mess. And suddenly, he understood.

The next morning, he disappeared for a few hours without much explanation. When he returned, he carried a small pet carrier, looking almost… nervous. You stared at him in shock.

"Charles… what did you do?"

He placed the carrier on the floor, and inside, a tiny gray and white kitten blinked up at you sleepily.

"I know Leo is the king of the house," Charles started, scratching the back of his neck, "but maybe he won’t mind sharing his kingdom a little…"

You covered your mouth with your hands, tears welling up again. But this time, they were happy ones.

"You got a cat?" Your voice cracked.

"For you. And for Leo, too," he grinned. "I figured he could use a little sibling."

At that moment, Leo trotted over, sniffing the small creature through the carrier with curiosity. Charles watched them carefully, still unsure how his beloved dog would react to the newest addition.

"He’s going to love them," you assured him, wiping your eyes.

Charles sighed, shaking his head playfully.

"I really hope so. Because if Leo picks a favorite, I’m not sure it’s going to be me anymore."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him. Maybe Charles would always be a dog person at heart—but for you? He was willing to learn how to love a cat too.

----

I've had this written for so long, I forgot to post it. ugh.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fanfics #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fics #charles leclerc scenarios #charles leclerc one shot #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader

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strang3lov3 · 2 days ago

Text

Out of Town

“And touch your nipples for me. Give them my love,” he instructs, and his phone makes static noises as you reach for your breasts. “‘Cause I really fuckin’ miss your tits, you know that?”

“I really miss you too,” you sigh softly, teasing your own nipples. Roman’s heart pounds at the comment. He’s certain you didn’t mean to say that, but you’re so addled you didn’t realize your little slip. He tucks your words away, saves them for later.

Tags - Stepdaddy!Roman, uggghhhh this is a big one. okay. phone/facetime sex, masturbation (m & f), allusions to alcoholism, angst, blow jobs, cunnilingus, shower sex, unprotected freak nasty floor sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, daddy kink. 7k words. A/N - hey guys. thank you so, so much for your patience. i know it's been two fucking months since i last updated stepdaddy but uh....life moves pretty quick when it's got you by the balls and you've felt like you're being hunted for sport every day since january 1st pretty much. so yeah, thanks ♡ i hope this delivers. i know you missed daddy romey. he missed you too.

This hotel room feels lonely. Cold, too. Roman’s in his boxer briefs, his skin and hair damp from his shower, as he paces on the stiff, neatly patterned carpet. Everything about this luxury suite reminds him of how much he misses you. The king sized bed that’s meant to be slept in by two, the bathtub with two seats, two sets of jets. The shower with two shower heads. You should be here. He could’ve taken you with him on this business trip, taken you out on proper dates like real people do.

He’s thinking about that hug you gave him when he left early in the morning about a week ago. You were all sleepy but insisted upon waking up early to see him go. Roman hugged you tightly, savoring the way you just…melted in his arms. “What, are you gonna miss me or something?” he’d murmured softly in your ear.

“Something,” you replied.

He’s been texting you this whole time. You’ve been texting him. Playing iMessage games during those boring-ass meetings, competing to see who would beat New York Times’ daily Wordle and Connections puzzles first. Roman texts you a picture of a little green lizard on the back of his hand, and you text him a picture of a goose and a bird-shit covered sidewalk you see while out and about. He laughs.

Fuck, Roman misses you. He really fucking does. He picks up his phone and unlocks it, then opens the phone app. His thumb hovers over your name as he contemplates calling you. Do people like…do people do this still? Just call to catch up? Probably, right? But it’s also probably weird if he does it. Then again, he’s your stepdad and he cares about you and whatever, and he’s calling you.

You pick up on the first ring.

“Roman?”

You sound a little out of breath, maybe? Roman wonders what that’s about “Uh, h-hey, you,” Roman says, pinching the bridge of his nose when his voice cracks. “Hi.”

“Hi.” And annoyed, too.

A silence hangs for a second longer than what’s comfortable. Roman’s not really sure what to say, and neither are you. He clears his throat. “I uh - I had groceries delivered to the house,” he says. “Did you get those? The fuckin’...snacks and whatever.”

And whatever. He added a couple bottles of nail polish to the order. You’re already wearing the colors he picked out, wiggling your toes to watch the pretty color shift. He knows you like your sparkles.

“Yeah, I got those,” you answer flatly while examining your self-done manicure, shifting in bed. “The nail polish you chose is fucking ugly.”

“Uh huh,” Roman laughs quietly, picturing you right now.

…But do you actually hate the colors, or are you just - you know. Being you? He wonders, but tries not to think too hard about it. Roman changes the subject then. “You warm enough over there? Know how to change the thermostat?”

“Yep.”

“Sleeping alright?”

“Yep.” He doesn’t believe this.

“And your mom, is she…” Roman trails off, wincing at the sound of you sighing deeply through his receiver.

“She’s been at Erica’s the past few days.”

Roman nods. That figures. “Okay. What about food, huh? What have you been eating for breakfast? Did you see I got you some of those-”

“Cereal,” you snap, cutting him off. You hold up your hand closer to your face and frown at the chips in your manicure, and the weird indents in the paint. You should’ve waited until they were dry. “This nail polish is already chipping.”

“Yeah, that tracks. You fuckin’ sound like you’ve been eating just cereal.” Roman stops pacing. “I need you to be eating real shit, okay? Real fucking food. Don’t be a dick and eat just fucking butter noodles.”

Roman can hear you scoff on the other end of the phone. He can picture it perfectly: the way you’re probably glaring, your lips pressed together in a thin line, the twitch of your jaw as it clenches. He’s patient with you, but to a point. It’s been a long fucking week, and he’s reached that point. He doesn’t know what he expected when he called you but he knows he didn’t expect whatever this is.

“Just fuck off, Roman.”

Roman goes quiet, taken aback. You’ve told him to fuck off a million times, but usually with sarcasm lacing your tone. Or at the least, when Roman deserves to be told to fuck off. But tonight, what’s he doing to you that’s so deserving of your contempt? “Yeah? Fuck off, huh?” Roman switches the hand he holds his phone with. “What’s your fucking deal? I’m just trying to talk to you. Can I not talk to you anymore? Is that what this is?”

The hurt in Roman’s voice has you feeling guilty immediately. You didn’t actually mean any of that, and you’re not truly mad at him. It’s just been complicated since he’s been gone. You miss him, you miss your routine with him, and you, well…

“Wait - I’m sorry,” you sigh. “Don’t go.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll fuck right off, alright? Wish granted. Goodb–”

“Don’t go,” you repeat. “It - it’s not you, Roman, I’m sorry for being like that. I just…” Roman sits down on the edge of his neatly made bed and bounces on the mattress as he waits for you to continue. “It’s nothing, just forget it. It’s…yeah. Nothing. You can…yeah - fuck off, I guess,” you tell him quietly, “I’m really sorry.”

Roman’s brows furrow. “Hold on. What’s nothing?”

“Nothing,” you say tightly. You twirl your little purple vibrator between your fingers, thinking back to the first time Roman fucked you. You haven’t used your vibrator since that night, but you just might tonight. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“I smell bullshit. C’mon,” Roman says. “Fess the fuck up.”

“No. You’re gonna make fun of me.”

Roman’s ears perk up at that, a crooked smile curling up at the corner of his mouth. “Well, yeah, but I always make fun of you, dummy. So tell me anyway. I’m not - you know - fucking off until you do.”

Roman waits patiently for you to summon the words, still bouncing a little on the hotel bed. Finally, you speak.

“I haven’t been able to come since you left.”

Ohhh. There it is. Amused, Roman sits still, quirks an eyebrow and fully smiles. “Oh yeah?” he purrs, “Is that why you’re all pissed off?” You answer him with an affirmative hum. He scoots back on his mattress, reaching under his boxer briefs to palm himself. “Are you sure you’re doing it right?”

“Roman, come on.”

“Just asking. It’s just a simple, friendly, no-ulterior-motives-at-all question.”

His answer makes your heart pound a little harder. “I am positive I’m doing it right,” you answer, now smiling at the direction the conversation turned.

“I dunno…I think,” Roman says, “That it sounds like you need Daddy’s help.” You adjust in bed, then spread your legs. You hold your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you reach for your clit beneath your panties, breath hitching in your throat. “Oh my god, are you doing it right now? You’re totally fucking yourself.”

“Mhm. Well, trying to,” you mumble.

“You’re shameless. Stop it,” Roman demands, squeezing his cock as he works himself. “And touch your nipples for me, hm? Give them my love,” he instructs, and his phone makes static noises as you reach for your breasts. “‘Cause I really fuckin’ miss your tits, you know that?”

“I really miss you too,” you sigh softly, teasing your own nipples. Roman’s heart skips at the comment. He’s certain you didn’t mean to say that, but you’re so addled you didn’t realize your little slip. He tucks your words away, saves them for later. He’s already rolling them over in his mind, listening to them over again.

“Keep touching them,” he says. He pulls his cock from the confines of his underwear, now fully erect. He rubs the tip with his thumb and collects the small amount of precum there, then sucks his finger. “Mm. Had a long day,” he mumbles. “Another fuckin’ meeting. We had sandwiches catered for lunch. What’d you eat for lunch, sweetheart?”

“Forgot to eat lunch,” you sigh, licking your fingers before tracing them around your areolas. Your nipples pebble up under your own touch, and you hum at the gentle, tingling pleasure.

“That’s a shame,” Roman says. “Only girls who remember to eat right get to cum. So you’re shit outta luck, then, huh?”

“No!” you giggle, squeezing the flesh of your breasts. “I’ll eat something real for dinner, I promise. Just…just…”

“Just what?”

You moan quietly, sliding your hand down your body. “Can I touch my clit, Daddy?” you whisper.

“Ohhh, I suppose. Only ‘cause you asked so nicely,” Roman replies. He brings his palm to his mouth and spits into it, then pumps his cock slowly. Part of him wants to make you torture yourself at his instruction, but Roman decides against it. He needs this as much as you do.

You reach under your panties and slide your fingers down your slit, sighing at how much wetter you are now. And all it took was a little sweet talking from Roman.

Roman leans over the side of the bed, grabbing something from his suitcase. He clutches it in one hand as he strokes himself with the other, holding his phone tightly between his ear and shoulder, the same as you. “Oh, fuck,” he moans. “Wait - what the fuck are we doing?”

“What?” you pant, “Rome–”

“We have FaceTime, for fuck’s sake,” Roman says, switching to that feature. Your screen changes then and it’s Roman’s gorgeous face splitting into a smile when he sees you. “There you are.”

“Oh, hi,” you giggle. You set one of your pillows down at the edge of the bed, then place your phone against it so Roman can get a full view of you. You’re wiggling your fingers under your panties, you fucking tease.

“Ooh, smart fucking cookie, that’s a good idea.” Roman does the same, then goes back to stroking his cock. He’s quieter than usual, not really focused on telling you exactly how to touch yourself. You thought that’s what you needed from him, but his presence is enough, even digitally. Roman watches you in his little screen, dipping your fingers at your slick hole before dragging them up again to circle your clit. “Better?” he pants.

“No,” you breathe. “Doesn’t feel as good when I have to do it myself.”

Roman lets out a loud laugh, and god does he look fucking gorgeous like that. Legs spread, fucking his fist. Head thrown back against his pillow, wearing a smile as he moans freely. If you were with him - really with him - you’d see the pretty flush on his cheeks and chest. “You’re fucking spoiled.”

You and Roman touch yourselves together until you’re cumming at the same time, thousands of miles apart. You slip your panties off and show Roman the way you’ve soaked them, and gasp when Roman shows you that he’s done the same - his favorite pair of your panties are stained in his own cum. “You stole my panties?” you laugh. “That’s what you were holding?”

“Mhm.”

The post orgasm haze feels good. You catch up with Roman and the conversation flows naturally, until it doesn’t. Poor connection on his end, then on yours. You should be snuggling right now. You can’t fucking wait until he’s home.

“Hey,” Roman says, his face frozen on your screen. “I’m gonna switch to my iPad, okay? My phone’s too fuckin’ hot. God, I hate iPhones. Gonna call you right back.”

Roman grabs his iPad from his suitcase and opens the black leather case, and it doesn’t ask him for a passcode. Odd. He barely uses the fucking thing anyway. It’s not until he accidentally taps the photos app instead of FaceTime that he realizes he brought your mom’s iPad, and not his. They have the same case, anyway.

The photo library is all full of pictures from your mom’s phone. Selfies, pictures of her manicures she paid for with Roman’s credit card, weird and blurry photos she’s accidentally taken. He chuckles. There’s all sorts of pictures of her and Erica out and about together, at bars and concerts that he doesn't even realize she attended - not that he gives a shit. There’s a video in her and Roman’s shared bedroom - Roman opens this, and his eyebrows raise when he presses play. Your mom and Erica are naked and drinking from a champagne bottle, kissing and dancing and fucking. His jaw drops, and he lets out a scoff. He’s not…not mad, really. He cares fuck all about your mom and whether or not she’s faithful - it’s not like he is, anyway. Roman simply files this away, then calls you back.

Your heart pounds when you get a call from your mom’s iCloud email address, and answer it cautiously. Relief is not strong enough of a word to describe how it feels to see Roman’s face instead of hers. “Oh, thank god. You grabbed Mom’s iPad, I’m guessing?” You’re no longer in your bedroom, instead in the kitchen. You stick a popsicle in your mouth, then head back to your room.

“Mhm. Hot, by the way,” Roman says, smiling when you make a show of sucking on the treat, moving your tongue in all sorts of lewd manners while cherry-flavored juice drips down your chin. When you’re back in your room, Roman clears his throat and scratches the back of his head. He’s quiet again.

“Rome? Everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Roman lies, going back to the video. You watch him on your screen, his eyes narrowed and not looking at your image, pressing his lips together as he thinks. “Uhh…kinda weird - weird question,” he begins.

“Uh huh…?”

“Your mom and Erica…?”

“They’re totally fucking.”

Roman raises an eyebrow. “You knew?”

You pull the popsicle from your mouth with a quiet pop. “It’s obvious, Roman.”

“Okay. Well,” he says, “Take a wild guess at what I just found.”

Roman tells you about the sex tape and giggles at all the disgusted noises and faces you make, begging him not to describe it any further. “What do we even like - do we do anything?”

“I mean, do you give a shit? I don’t give a shit,” Roman says, running his hand through his hair. It’s all floppy now that it’s dry and there’s no styling cream in it. You love it like that.

“I guess I don’t either, as long as she keeps whatever fucking comments to herself. God. Whatever. More power to her,” you say.

“I’m watching it again,” Roman says. “You totally have the same ass.”

You giggle and groan, “Oh my god, shut the fuck up. Shut up,” you tell him, and Roman does. It’ll be another one of your shared inside jokes or something.

After a few more minutes, you yawn. Roman yawns too. “Hey, wait a sec,” he says. “Did you ever eat dinner?”

“Oh, you know. I had that popsicle,” you mumble all sleepy.

“You said to me that you’d eat a real dinner,” he says. “Not a fucking popsicle.”

You smirk, laying on your side, eyes gently closing. “I’m gonna have a good breakfast,” you tell him.

“Uh huh. You better. I wanna see fuckin’ protein and fruit and all of that shit on your plate. You promise me.”

“Okay, okay. I promise.”

There’s a soft, electronic hum from the silence as you begin to drift off to sleep, your bedroom lights still on. With Roman’s phone is now cooled, and he uses an app to turn those fancy, overpriced lights off, then turns the lights off in his own hotel room. He puts the iPad on the pillow next to the one he rests his head on, chuckling as you snore a little.

One more week.

Like a dog, you wait by your window for Roman to come home. When his driver pulls up to the curb, you sprint down the stairs and past the kitchen where your mom and Erica hang out together, nearly tripping as you rush to greet him in the doorway. You almost tackle him when you wrap him in the tightest hug you can muster, kissing his neck as many times as you can sneak in, running your hands down his back and arms. “Okay,” he laughs, toeing off his shoes, unbalanced as you restrict his movement. “Yeah, it’s me. Daddy’s home or whatever. You gonna fuckin’ cream your pants?”

“Yes,” you answer, burying your face in his neck. He smells different, like laundry detergent he doesn’t usually use to wash his clothes with. You can’t decide if you like it or not.

“Give me a fucking second, Jesus Christ. I’m here. I’m not leaving ag–” You shut him up with a kiss that startles you both, so brazen in such an open space. “Watch it,” he warns, and your eyes widen. Roman kisses you again, pinches your ass, and swallows your squeal of delight as he smiles against your lips.

You follow Roman into the kitchen where he helps himself to a snack, quickly picking off of some fucking expensive-ass charcuterie board your mom had ordered. He idly wonders how much that set him back. Whatever.

“Roman’s home!” your mom slurs, swaying in the barstool in front of the kitchen island. Erica’s next to her, smiling politely. Already, there’s something tense in the air.

“Uh…hi,” he says quietly, confused. Roman can’t remember the last fucking time your mom said hi to him.

They’re listening to some old, obnoxious music on a Bose bluetooth speaker Roman had given your mother for her birthday some years ago. Erica’s nursing a glass of wine, your mom’s on her second glass of vodka and Gatorade, which isn’t smart. For an alcoholic, she’s a lightweight.

“You miss us, Roman?”

Roman reaches for a clementine and begins peeling it. “Uh huh, yep. Sure did. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know. However it goes.” He splits the clementine down the middle and mindlessly hands you a half, something he’s always done. You watch your mom look Roman up and down, her eyes glossy and narrowed at him. He raises his eyebrows at her while biting into a cracker. “Everything okay?”

“He’s fucking handsome, isn’t he?” she drawls, sliding out of her seat. Roman makes a face at the comment. So does Erica. “Think he fucked someone while he was gone?”

Zero to fucking one hundred. But that’s how it goes with her though, right? Erica seems weirded out, oddly enough. She laughs awkwardly and says your mother’s name, her half-hearted attempt at reeling her in. You’d think she’d be used to this, and maybe tolerates it. “Oh, c’mon. Be honest. You think he’s gonna trade me in for the younger model?”

You don’t say anything. Roman doesn’t say anything. Not even Erica speaks. Everyone seems to just know protocol, to let her get her belligerence out of her system. It’s like dealing with a toddler. If you don't entertain them, they lose interest and move onto the Next Big Thing.

It still stings to be around, and it makes your heart pound so hard you can feel it in your stomach. She’s not a happy woman when she’s sober, but she’s worse when she’s drunk. Picking fights that nobody wins, but does it matter? She craves the fight, and she’s looking for it right now. It’s odd that Roman of all people is her target tonight, and not you. Not that Roman fucking cares. What’s she gonna do to him, anyway? You look at him nervously, and he looks back at you quickly, sympathetically. He says nothing, and yet you know what he’s telling you. No, she doesn’t know shit. And she wouldn’t give a fuck even if she did. She’s not even gonna remember this in the morning.

It’s that touchy sort of moment during her inebriation in which you know things could go so, so fucking wrong, but if the three of you all play your cards right, it’ll pass.

Your mom rounds the island and kisses Roman on the cheek, all fucking sloppy and just…gross. He scrunches his face a little at the scent of vodka on her breath, and that cloying, awful perfume she wears. A $600 price tag doesn’t make it a good fragrance. He likes your expired Bath & Body Works sprays better.

He gently avoids her attempt at a hug. “Oh, you know - you’re fucking sweet, uh….But I’m fuckin’ - I’m gross. You don’t wanna hug me.” Roman squirms away from her touch. “You know what, I’m gonna shower and then I’ll be back, alright?”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Roman lies, then turns to you. “And you,” he says, “Are gonna help me with my fuckin’ bags. It’s about time you did some hard work for once in your life, huh? Fuckin’ spoiled-ass brat. C’mon.” Roman pats your back awkwardly, then wraps his arm around your back and ushers you toward the doorway. We’re fucking out of here.

“Oh, please. You can do it yourself, Rome,” your mom says. “Be a fucking man. We’re having a girls’ night.”

Roman doesn’t argue, knowing it’s a lost cause. he takes his hand off your body, looking defeated. You smile sympathetically at him, lips pressed together tightly. You tried, Roman. It’s okay. I’ll be fine. He sighs before he spins on his heel and walks toward the staircase, anxiously scratching at the back of his head. Fuck.

Your mom waves Roman off with a dismissive flick of her wrist and a middle finger to match, already focusing her attention back to you and Erica. “Girl’s night,” she repeats, taking her place back at the kitchen island. You laugh, as if that was even a thing - this is a move of hers. Sort of…forcing a situation, social interaction from others. Trying to make herself seem friendlier or more liked than she actually is. You think it’s her loneliness or her control issues, or maybe a combination of the two. She pours more vodka in her glass. “Quit being so fucking weird and sit down, huh? Sit with your mom, for once. You owe me that.”

Your throat tightens as you pull out a stool, and then Erica speaks. “Oh, fuck,” she says. You furrow your brows in confusion when you see she’s looking at you. “I need–”

“What do you need?” your mom slurs.

“My medication. Forgot to take it with dinner,” Erica mumbles, looking around the kitchen. “Where’d I put my purse?”

Your mom looks confused but helps Erica look anyway, stumbling through the kitchen and dining room. Erica says your name, gives you another look. It’s an intentional, lingering stare. Her eyes are wide as she motions toward the room’s doorway. “Help me find it, please?”

“Yeah,” your mom adds, her tone demanding. “Go fucking help her.”

The perfect out. You never much cared for Erica, and found her to be an enabler of your mom’s drinking and other bad habits, but you’re thankful for her at this moment. You’re curious about what she sees in your mom, why she sticks around…whatever. Not your fucking monkeys, not your fucking circus.

You head up the stairs to “look” for Erica’s conveniently missing purse, and make a beeline for Roman in his and your mother’s shared bathroom. You’re thrown off by your mom tonight, but this is her, right? It could’ve been worse. And anyway, you don’t even want to think about it right now. You just want to be with Roman.

So after successfully sneaking away, you tiptoe into your mother’s bedroom, taking quiet, careful steps toward that ensuite bathroom where you can hear Roman showering, like he said he would. The light glows yellow from in between the cracks of the door and the doorframe, a bit of steam pouring out. You open the door quietly, then close it again, conscious to click that little lock into place.

Roman showers in silence. While you undress, you let yourself watch him. You admire his blurred figure through the glass, those exquisite lines of his body, the perfect cut of his waist and his beautiful ass. He scrubs his hair, then shakes his head a little as he rinses the suds out.

He jumps and yelps when you open the shower door, letting yourself in. “Jesus Christ! Did you forget how to knock, or what?”

“The former.”

The look on his face immediately turns into a smile, his sharp little canines on display. He looks just like a dream, water and delicate soap cascading down his soft and toned body, hair slicked back, eyelashes wet. He’s so relieved to see you, to know you’re away from her, and safe with him. Hopefully you ate enough. He’s not letting you downstairs again tonight.

“Oh, sure. Just let yourself in, yeah. I’m not like, showering or anything. Can’t get five minutes to myself, can I? Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“Please shut the fuck up,” you whisper through a smile. “I don’t understand why you never stop talking.”

You quiet Roman with a soft kiss, holding the sides of his face as water falls over you both. He matches your kiss, his arms wrapping around your torso. One hand on your back, the other squeezing your ass. You kiss his jaw next, down the lovely column of his neck, his collarbones…

“H-hey.” Roman pulls away from you, searching your face with worried eyes, and holds your cheeks in his hands. “Was everything okay? Are you okay? Was she - did she, like…I tried to - you know. But I didn’t think–”

“I’m okay, it was okay,” you promise. Roman seems to want to know details. “But I don’t wanna talk about it,” you tell him. “Maybe later.”

“Okay. Maybe later.”

You go back to kissing Roman, sinking into the heat of it, into him. His lips are warm, slick, parting just enough for you to breathe him in. His hands bracket your jaw, thumbs stroking over your cheekbones.

He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, so slow and deliberate. The taste of him spreads over your tongue—clean, warm. Him. His mouth moves against yours, teasing and coaxing, until you sigh against him, melting under his touch.

Roman hums, low and satisfied, before licking into your mouth—lazily at first, like he’s savoring it. Then firmer, more insistent. The wet slide of his tongue sends a shiver down your spine, heat curling low in your stomach. His grip tightens, fingertips pressing into your skin, his body pressing into yours. You wriggle from his grasp a little, just enough to allow yourself the space to drop to your knees.

Roman’s cock is already hard. You take him gently in your hand, kissing and licking at the underside of his tip. “Oh, fu - okay. Oh, wow,” he gasps, pushing the wet strands of your hair away from your face. “That’s how it is, huh? How we’re doing things?”

“Mhm.”

“Someone really fuckin’ missed me, didn’t she? Did you miss Daddy when he was gone, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, and Roman lets out a laugh. He leans back a little, arms outstretched to adjust the shower head, making sure that water’s not spraying you in the eyes or something. He can be sweet like that, a gentleman. Roman groans loudly when you take his head in your mouth and suck him, then reaches for your face and gently holds you, stroking your skin. “Well fuck, whatever then. I missed you,” he admits, staring down at your beautiful, wide eyes. “Kinda.”

Beads of water roll down Roman’s gorgeous body as you take him further into your mouth. You hold the back of one of his thighs, sliding your hand up, up until you’re palming the tight flesh of his ass cheek, using your grip on his body for stability as you work him. You move the hand that’s on your face away, and hold it tightly. Roman gives you a tight squeeze in return.

“Okay - okay, fuck. I’m not - it’s been a while, you know? I’m not gonna - fuck.”

You push your head forward, drooling on the entire length of his cock. You trace the underside of his shaft with your tongue, drawing sloppy lines as you bob back and forth, lazily fucking your mouth on his cock.

Roman watches you in admiration, allowing himself to feel enveloped in the pleasure you create. Your eyes are shut as you swirl your tongue around his tip, but you look up at him as you slide down the rest of the way. What a fucking sight. Your mouth and your tongue are both so velvety and warm and wet, and Roman’s cock is beginning to twitch. “Hey–” he squeezes your hand rapidly. “I’m gonna cum, honey. S-stop,” he moans.

His blunt, short fingernails dig into the skin of your hand as he tries to stave off his release, not wanting this moment to be over just yet. There’s still so much he wants to do with you, to you…fuck. But it’s happening - Roman’s breathing heavily as that feeling blooms deep in his stomach, and he lets out a loud, guttural groan as he cums into your mouth.

It’s been so long since you’ve tasted that lovely, salty warmth of his. You let it coat your tongue and down your throat as he cums in thick spurts, and you don’t stop sucking until he pushes you away. You swallow every drop of spend Roman gives you before kissing and licking at his balls, running your hand down the elegant lines of his legs.

Roman pulls you to your feet, panting heavily. You wipe a little soap off of his forehead with his hand still holding yours, then let him go. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” you mumble.

You open the shower door and take one step onto the fancy bath mat, and are then pulled back into the shower with Roman, his hand gripping your forearm. “You fucking come back here,” he murmurs, tugging you close as he shuts off the water. “Where do you think you’re going, huh? You fucking heathen, dry off first. Jesus Christ.”

You giggle as Roman kisses you, then brushes past you to pull his towel off of the hook. He’s gentle as he dries you off from head to toe, then uses the damp, used towel to pat himself off. “C’mon.” Roman swats you on the ass as he ushers you out of the bathroom, rolling his eyes at your laughter and the giddy little steps you take. You pull him towards the bed, smiling so big. “Yeah, no fuckin’ way. Not that one,” Roman laughs. “It’s been sufficiently christened by your mom and her lover downstairs. I know because I’ve seen it.”

You scrunch your face, hiding behind Roman as he carefully opens the bedroom door, looking both ways before sneaking into the hall. “You’re so fucking gross,” you tell him. He doesn’t reply beyond smirking and wiggling his brows.

He takes your hand as he rushes to your bedroom, the two of you naked and dripping water on the hardwood floor. Roman stubs his toe and hisses “Fuck!” stumbling into your bedroom and taking you down with him. The fall makes the room shake, and you laugh even harder when he slams the door shut harder and louder than he meant to. “Shut the fuck up,” he says, covering your mouth as he turns the lock.

Roman keeps you right there on the floor, laying on your plush carpeting as he kneels above you. His smile falls then, replaced with something more serious. His eyes are sparkling and full of life, love as he stares down at you, taking in your body. It makes you feel shy, almost. Insecure.

Roman lowers himself and kisses you softly, a hand on your neck with his thumb on your jaw. You moan against his lips, arching into his touch as you seek his warmth. His hand slides down your neck, down your sides and up again until he’s palming your breast, gently groping the flesh there.

He bends and pushes your thighs up and back, his warm breath fanning over your hot, slick cunt. He spreads your lips wide, his eyes flickering from your throbbing, aching pussy up to your eyes, his mouth parted just a little. You swallow hard when Roman runs his thumb up your seam, and let out a shaky breath as he presses his lips against you.

“I-” Roman says, “Missed you,” mumbling between kisses, nipping at the soft, delicate skin of your inner thighs, “So fucking much.” You’re dripping down yourself, gasping when Roman licks your mess. “Do you know that?”

“I know. Told me a bunch,” you murmur, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him. He’s got his arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your body close to his mouth. Nose buried in that most special place. His damp hair is in his face a little, and you push it out of his way as best you can. Roman licks you from bottom to top, the muscles in his back twitching as he moves his head. “Oh, Roman.”

He rounds your clit a couple of times before repeating that slow, long lick. There’s a quiet hum of the air conditioner and sweet, wet, breathy noises coming from Roman, but aside from that, the room is quiet.

Roman pushes you onto your back ever so gently, allowing himself more space to eat you as he pleases. Fuck, he misses the way you taste. It’s something that he couldn’t describe with a gun to his head. So sweet, so musky, so…you. You’re his favorite fucking thing.

He dips his tongue inside you, tasting your arousal, swirling it around. You reach for his face, tracing your finger along the bridge of his nose, up his forehead until you’re combing his hair and twirling the strands around.

Roman’s face is fucking soaked. He pulls back to wipe your slick onto your inner thighs, then kisses you a little. When he brings his mouth back to your cunt, his fingers join in. Two long, slender digits slide into you, and curl up against that lovely little spot deep inside you. Roman licks your clit and fucks you on his fingers, making you squirm and whine and writhe. “Shh,” he reminds you.

He eats you like you’re the first proper meal he’s had in days, and really, you are. It all builds quickly, blooming deep in your abdomen and rolls down your legs and up your spine. You cum so hard and Roman works you through it, licking and licking until you’re shivering and twitching and gushing into his hand, a light sheen of sweat covering your naked body.

Roman pulls away from you, licks his palm clean of your arousal and then strokes his cock, fully erect again. He’s not fucking done with you. Not even close. Roman kneels over you and lowers his body, lining up with your entrance. He pushes just the tip in, then pulls out, drags his cock up and down your seam. He repeats the action with his forehead pressed against yours, his smile so wide as you beg for him to just fuck you. “Please,” you whimper.

“Uh-huh,” Roman grunts, fucking into you in one quick, suave thrust that has you both moaning, catching your breath. You missed him like this. He missed you like this. Just lying here, your cunt wrapped around his cock and kissing his lips would be enough, you think.

Until he pulls out of you - just a little, and pushes back inside. His cockhead kisses your cervix and brushes past your g-spot on the way there. You moan as he thrusts into you, so slow and deep and intentional. Roman keeps your mouth covered until he decides fuck it, he wants to hear you. Deserves to hear you.

He loves the way you wrap yourself around his body, clinging so tightly to him. Legs crossed over his hips, one arm hugging his shoulders, scratching at the skin of his back. Your other hand cradles his head. The side of his face is pressed against yours and you make the sweetest, softest sounds together as he fucks you. No words spoken, just taking what you need from one another, savoring the moment.

The pleasure is blinding for you both, and Roman makes you lean into it. He rubs your clit as he fucks you, bringing you to orgasm once, then twice. He has to hold his breath and bite his lip as you clench around him, trying so hard not to cum yet. He’s all sweaty and his chest and cheeks are flushed bright red. Roman looks almost pained as he tries to keep it together.

“Roman,” you breathe, holding his face in your hands. “Cum for me.”

“I know, I know. I don’t - not yet,” Roman pants, taking your hands off of his face. He pins them above your head, squeezing his fingers tightly.

“Why?” you ask.

“‘Cause I don’t - fuck. I don’t want this to be over yet, baby,” he admits quietly. You aww at him, smiling at his softness. “Yeah, shut up,” he mumbles, and kisses your forehead as he fucks you apart, breathing hot against your skin. “Just humor me, for fuck’s sake.”

You roll your hips into his thrusts, coaxing along his release on your own. “Oh, you’re such a fucking–” Roman doesn’t finish the sentence. He grunts as he licks his fingertips, then reaches between your bodies so you can cum with him. When you feel that pleasure deep in your gut, so does Roman. The rapid pulsing of your cunt and the way you soak his cock has Roman making noises louder than he intends to, his orgasm washing over him in such a deliriously heady way. And you, you’re lost in it, riding the waves of your own pleasure as Roman pumps you full of warm, sticky cum, more than he usually does. It spills out of you a little when he pulls you close and flops onto his back, happily pinned beneath you.

He kisses your neck and hugs you tighter against him when you pull away a little. “Don’t go,” he tells you. “What’s the fuckin’ rush, huh? Just stay with me. Pretend you like me,” Roman jokes softly, looking up at you and pushing some hair out of your face. He swallows thickly as he searches your eyes and rubs your cheekbone with his thumb, hoping you don’t really have to pretend.

“But your back,” you argue, smiling kindly. “Probably shouldn’t lay on the floor.”

Roman rolls his eyes. “Alright, fuck you. My back is fine, thanks. Not that fucking old.” He lets you go then, his body already missing the warmth and weight of yours. You offer him a hand as you stand up, but he swats it away and gets up on his own. He flops in your bed, watching as you leave to use the bathroom. He catches his reflection on the TV before he turns it on - hair wild, skin still flushed.

When you return to him, Roman kisses you. “You’re so pretty,” he says. “You know that?”

“I know,” you mumble.

You lay with him as he picks out a show to stream - Always Sunny. He keeps the lights low, running his fingers up and down your back as you drip his cum onto his thigh. It’s a mess that he welcomes.

Uncomfortable, Roman shifts and reaches behind himself to pull something from under his head, one of your bras. “Oops,” you whisper, a little embarrassed.

Roman folds the bra in half and aims for the laundry basket across your room. “If I make this, you owe me a kiss,” he says.

“Deal.”

He misses, tells you to fuck off when you laugh at him, and kisses you anyway.

The volume on the TV is low, and it’s so quiet and comfortable being here with him. You stare at Roman, watching the screen reflected in his irises. “You have green eyes,” you whisper.

Roman raises his eyebrows, then looks down at you. “Do I?”

“Mhm...mm-mm.” You change your mind, studying him closer. “No. Maybe? They’re like, hazel-y,” you say. “Well, and also green,” you add.

Roman smiles, says nothing. You trace the features on his face, committing each one to memory. The freckles and the mole on his cheek that used to be more prominent when he was younger; you’ve seen the pictures. You picture those softer boyish features of his, considering how they’ve matured with his age. The stupid haircut he used to have. You yawn, dropping your hand.

“You’ve been getting enough sleep lately?” Roman asks, his voice all soft and gentle.

The question throws you off a little. “Are you trying to say I look tired?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. M’just thinking about you.”

It’s so profoundly tender and caring, it sort of makes you balk. A beat passes before you shake your head. “No. I don’t always sleep so well,” you answer.

“Yeah. I know.”

Roman reaches for you, and pushes some hair out of the way. He scratches your scalp, then traces your ears with his fingertips. He’s never done that before. It feels good, and warm, somehow.

“I felt kind of anxious when you were gone,” you admit, closing your eyes as you nuzzle into his neck. “Just didn’t feel good.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

You shrug, then go quiet. There’s a scene on the TV Roman knows you always laugh at, and he imagines hearing you do so. “Ohh, god. I fuckin’ love you,” he laughs, face heating up when you don’t respond. And then, the quietest of snores. You’re even drooling onto his shoulder. “Oh.”

You didn’t hear it, but at least Roman said it. He’s known for a while that he loves you, and he wonders if you love him too. Fuck, he hopes. He writes those three words on your arms, your back, your sides. He’ll tell you tomorrow. Make you your special blueberry pancakes, the whole thing. Figure out the next steps later.

a reblog or an ask is always nice :) i missed you guys. it's been a tough time lately. nice and dirty thots would be kindly welcomed.

romey tags :)

@gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson @moth-maam56

@kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink

@kappasbbgirl @magpiepills @highinmiamiii @verstappensrealwife @thesummerpetrichor

@lilipads @luiscarrutherss @baronessvonglitter @myromeow

@doll-0f-flesh @always-andromeda @causesimmer @pedropascalbabygirl

@baloobalee @slimybeth69 @pearlstiare @romanisbrat @callsignwidow @ziggymars

@perpetuallymanic @111melo @veryverycoolgirl @marisemonteiroo

@prettybpdgirl @butuhaventseenmyman @drunkdriverkillerwhale @fawnjaw @fadedviolets @flowercrowns-goodvibes @foursgurlx @hotdadlvr95

#roman roy x reader #roman roy smut #roman roy x reader smut #roman roy x you #roman roy #roman roy/reader #roman roy/you #stepdaddy!roman #kieran culkin #kieran culkin characters #succession fic #succession

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mechncheese · 1 day ago

Note

You have draw Bluestreak a total of two (2) times which for me is enough to ask: Do you have any hcs for him? Is he going to be in your au?

Funnily enough, Bluestreak is one of my more niche favs but mostly because of the HCs I've made up for him in my head BAHAHA What can I say? I love background characters and expanding upon them !

He's around in my AU as well ! This ask has been sitting in my inbox for a while and I wanted to get out my list of Autobots sorted before I answered it, so sorray !

As for what he's like in the AU I kept his Yapper Personality, him being a talker to cope with the pain of it all </3 He's a little tragic to me

I won't get too into it but here are some other HCs from my AU

Ik this is a common one and one that might be mildly annoying but he gets mistaken for Prowl sometimes and he has debated on changing some of his frame to differentiate himself more but ultimately decided against it.

He's so homesick, he misses everything all of the time and the only thing he can do is talk to distract himself from the fact that if he lets his mind wander too much he will get sad </3 he has a fear of being left alone.

Bluestreak does this thing where he smiles or laughs out of a nervous habit during inappropriate times and sometimes it unnerves others because how could you be laughing during a time like this but he can't help it.

Bluestreak doesn't take himself seriously and often brushes off his problems with humor. First Aid tells him that maybe he should consider coming to him for therapy.

This has nothing to do with my HCs but anon I hope you know I am in the top 0.1% of Bluestreak fans and my goal is to spread my love for niche characters

#ask #tf science cont #bluestreak #my art #bluestreak holds a special place in my heart #I can't explain why tho I'm just fond of him #long post #additional note will you forgive me if i put him through it?

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azzibuckets · 2 days ago

Text

letters from dallas part 1

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: in which i neglect all the other series and fics im supposed to be writing to send more angst ur way <3

lfd masterlist | main masterlist

May 1, 2025

Dear Azzi,

It fucking sucks here.

I know I’m supposed to be thankful for this opportunity. And I am, I swear. My teammates are nice. Arike’s been showing me around downtown. Nai and Lyss are funny. They’ve adopted me, called me their child. They remind me of us.

My therapist said it’s good to write down my feelings. Not sure how she’d say if it was letters, letters to you, but hey, something is better than nothing.

I saw a trailer for Frozen 3 last week and I thought of you. I hope you’re doing well. I called KK the other day. She was so excited - I felt bad. I haven’t been as good as I wanted to be with talking to our team - well, your team now - but it hurts too much knowing that they get to spend every day with you and I can’t. I asked her about you. She seemed hesitant to tell me. But I kept nagging her and she told me you’re good, spending a lot of time reading and stuff. Said they finally got you off Colleen Hoover. She wants me to move on, I can tell. It’s killing both of us, how I can’t let you go. But I guess writing these letters and stuffing them in my closet are how I’m trying to get my closure and deal with my feelings, so maybe this will help.

You’re on my fucking mind all the time, and I wish you weren’t. I miss you so bad sometimes it hurts to exist. If you saw the amount of melatonin I take every every night just to avoid you in my dreams, you’d probably yell at me.

Love,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 7, 2025

Dear Azzi,

Have I mentioned that Drew hasn’t been talking to me? He blames me for our breakup, and he misses you like hell. I do too.

I played like shit in the game yesterday. I can’t believe we lost to the Sparks. It was nice seeing Cam again though. I don’t know if you remember, but it’s our anniversary. I saw that you were at the soccer game with the girls. You looked really good, really happy. I guess it doesn’t affect you like it affects me. And I know that should make me like, mad, or jealous. But I’m glad at least one of us is healing?

Honestly? it sucks having to see your face all over social media. It sucks even more whenever I go on my Instagram page and you’re all over it too. I could be salty and delete all of it, but that would start too much drama. Besides, that would mean deleting like half my posts

I wonder how Jose and Jon are doing. Jon unfollowed me the other day. That one hurt pretty bad. I miss my little brothers, and I miss your parents.

Love,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

August 28, 2025

Dear Azzi,

Yesterday was a fucking shit show. Honestly, I didn’t expect you to even show up when I heard you guys were coming. It was weird, seeing you in the audience. It was everything I’d always imagined, you coming to my games, but it also made me feel sick, knowing this is what could’ve been. What should’ve been. I was nervous the last quarter thinking about what to say to you after the game, but god, Azzi, you couldn’t even look at me. I tried to talk to you after the group pic but you disappeared.

Maybe it’s a good time to tell you that Katie and Tim were at my game last week, against the Mystics. I’m gonna be honest, when I saw they were there, I avoided them, and I’m not proud of it. I ran to my car straight after the presser but somehow they found where I parked and were waiting next to it?? If this was a different circumstance I would’ve laughed.

All they told me was great game before I started crying. I don’t even know what came over me. But your mom hugged me and that made me cry even harder. They told me I was their daughter no matter what, and they loved me. I wrote it down as soon as I left because I didn’t ever wanna forget.

Azzi, we didn’t even marry each other like we promised, and I still feel like we left a broken family. I didn’t mean for this many people to get hurt, for this many relationships to shatter because ours did.

It makes forgetting you so much harder, and that’s what pisses me off. That I’ve injured my knee and gone through months of rehab and moved across the country to a brand new city, yet this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

From,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 2nd, 2025

Dear Azzi,

I was calling KK again and I didn’t ask about you this time. I think I’m making some progress.

Arike keeps trying to get me with some of her friends, but it still doesn’t feel right. I think I need a little bit more time.

From,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 20, 2025

Dear Azzi,

I turn 24 today. Damn I feel old. I’ve spent a third of my life now loving you.

From,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 22nd, 2025

Dear Azzi,

I just got your present in the mail. You didn’t have to. I love it. Thank you.

- Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

November 11, 2025

Happy birthday big head. I think you probably received my gift by now. I debated on writing a card, but you didn’t write me one, and I’ve decided to leave the cards (haha) in your hand. So I’m just following your lead. I hope you enjoy 23.

- Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

December 7, 2025

Azzi,

Hell of a game yesterday. Proud of you. National player of the year performance

- P

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

April 5, 2026

Az,

LET’S FUCKING GOOOO. Shit, man. Two peat natty champs??? Unbelievable. My hands are tweaking out, I can’t even read my own handwriting. I knew you could do it, Az. Thank you for not forcing me to wear irish merch..I never look good in green like you do

- P

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

April 13, 2026

Azzi,

Drafted to the Sky????

See you so fucking soon

Nice fit at the draft btw

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May 16, 2026

Dear Azzi,

Fuck, the way you smiled at me after that game. Maybe I’ll have the courage to finally text you. I know it’s probably not the best idea but…I still regret everything. It’s been a little bit more than a year and it still hurts as bad as it did the first day. Is this normal?

Love,

Paige

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #uconnwbb #paige x azzi #angst #paige bueckers x azzi fudd

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inseobts · 1 day ago

Text

Fool

law x reader

you meet your former captain again after months, after having walked away from that unrequited feeling, not knowing that, in reality, he loved you too (part 1 - if only she knew but you can read and enjoy this even without reading the other one)

inspired by the song: fool by winner

a/n: uhm idk if this sucks but I did it based on my fav group's music so be nice eheh (ฅ́ ˘ฅ̀)♡ also I firstly made it about zoro but then I got reminded of an old request (if only she knew) so I turned it into a sequel for law.

words count: 3.5k

tags: angst, argument, regrets from law

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The crowded port buzzes with life, laughter, and the scent of grilled seafood wafting through the air. You weren’t expecting to run into them, into him. But fate, it seems, has a cruel sense of humor.

The Heart Pirates.

You spot them before they see you, their familiar ship docked near the edge of the harbor. For a second, you consider turning around, walking away before anyone notices. But then a loud, familiar voice cuts through the air.

"Hey—! No way! It's you!" Penguin’s excited shout freezes you in place, and in an instant, all eyes are on you. The crew’s expressions shift from shock to joy, and before you know it, you’re being pulled into warm greetings, pats on the back, and teasing complaints about how long it’s been.

But one pair of eyes lingers on you longer than the rest. Law stands at the back, arms crossed, his usual unreadable expression in place. But there’s something there, a flicker of something in his golden gaze that you can’t quite place.

The tension is broken when Shachi grins "You gotta eat with us today! Just like old times. No excuses."

You hesitate, but your stomach betrays you, growling at the thought of a warm meal. And the truth is… you missed them. More than you’d like to admit.

"Fine," you sigh, rolling your eyes "But you’re paying."

The crew erupts in cheers, dragging you toward their ship, the warmth of old friendships making it impossible to say no.

Dinner is chaotic, loud, and full of laughter. The crew fills the space with stories of their latest misadventures, and for a while, it feels like nothing has changed. But beneath it all, you can feel the weight of his gaze on you, the space between you and him.

As the plates pile up and the drinks flow, the crew starts throwing casual questions your way.

“So, how have you been?” Bepo asks, his voice gentle, though his eyes are searching.

Shachi leans in with a knowing smirk “Yeah, how’s life been treating you?”

Their words are light, playful even, but you can hear the unspoken question beneath them. They all know. They knew before you left. They had seen the way you looked at your captain, the feelings you tried so hard to hide.

And they had seen the way he looked at you leaving, even if he never admitted it.

The room may be full of laughter, but there’s an undercurrent of tension, one that only grows when Law remains silent, nursing his drink and watching you from across the table.

Penguin nudges your arm, his grin teasing but his eyes soft “Bet you haven’t found anyone to boss you around like a certain captain of ours.”

You roll your eyes, playing along “Like I’d go looking for that.”

The table erupts in laughter, but there’s a knowing look exchanged between them all. They’re testing the waters, trying to see if your heart still beats for him, but careful not to push too far. And as much as you try to brush off their words, you know the answer. It never stopped.

From the other side of the table, Law exhales sharply, setting down his drink with just a little too much force.

The crew exchanges glances. They’ve been waiting for this. They had hoped that bringing you back, even if just for one night, would finally push the two of you to talk. But as they watch the tension build, they realize they can’t force this. Whatever needs to happen between you and Law can only happen if you’re alone.

Then something happens, maybe an accident, a spilled drink, or just the natural (or so they act like) shifting of the group, but suddenly, you and Law are alone. The noise of the crew fades into the background, leaving only the two of you there.

The setting sun paints the sky in shades of gold and pink as you stand outside the tavern, staring out at the ocean. The breeze tugs at your hair, but you don’t feel it. Your thoughts are elsewhere, tangled in the mess that the crew just made to leave you two alone.

And then Law.

He’s the only thing on your mind right now. He’s the reason your heart feels like it’s being torn in two for months, or even years at this point. You missed him like hell, but the words he said to you, before you left, will never leave your mind…

“Get lost from my sight.”

They echo in your ears, stinging with every memory of just one the moments he made you feel unwanted. He has always been distant, and you always tried to reach out. You tried so hard. But that night, everything in you snapped. You got tired of his anger, his harsh words, they cut deeper than anything you expected.

You turn away, unable to face him again. The tears threaten to spill at the memories, but you fight them back. His words hurt, but it’s more than that. It’s the feeling that something between you is broken now, something that can’t easily be fixed.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just stands there, close but not close enough. You can feel the space between you, thick with unspoken words and regret. Your back remains turned to him, but you don’t have to look to know he’s still standing there, his presence heavy in the air.

Finally, his voice breaks through the silence. It’s softer than you ever remembered, because now there’s something else... regret. You can hear it, and it twists something in your chest.

“Get lost from my sight.”

You don’t turn around. His words still feel like a slap in the face, even though the venom has faded from them. Law’s not speaking to you now. He’s speaking the truth of what he felt in the moment, the words he had let slip too many times in his anger.

“Those cruel words… I spat out without hesitation.” His voice trembles, a small crack breaking through his usual composure “Anyone can see… I was a fool.”

Your heart clenches at his words, but you don’t say anything. What’s there to say? He’s the one who pushed you away, and now, here he is, broken, admitting to it.

You take a deep breath, your throat tight, as you finally turn to face him. His gaze is on the floor, his fists clenched, but you can see the regret in his eyes. It’s raw. It’s real.

“Even if I’m sorry now, nothing changes. I know.” His voice is quieter now, the weight of what he’s said settling between you both “Nothing changes...” he repeats, more to himself than to you, as if trying to accept it.

Law steps closer, and you don’t move. You’re not sure if you want him to come closer. He’s the one who pushed you away, and yet, here he is, still reaching for you in his own way. His voice breaks the silence again.

“It’s okay to swear at me, even that’s not good enough. I just wanna hear your voice. I just wanna hear you talk to me...” His words feel fragile, like he’s hanging on by a thread, and you can feel his desperation in every syllable.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What is there to say? What can you say after everything that’s happened?

“Fool, stupid. I now know it’s all my fault.” His voice cracks as he says it, the self-loathing dripping through every word “Dummy, idiot. I now know it’s all my fault.” He shakes his head, the weight of his mistakes crushing him “I pushed you away.”

You stand still, watching him, not knowing what to do. He’s broken, you can see that, but can you forgive him so easily? He hurt you so badly that part of you doesn’t know if you’re ready to let him back in.

Law takes another step toward you, this time closer than before, and you instinctively take a small step back. He notices but doesn’t say anything. He seems unsure of everything now.

“I said I was selfish. Only knew myself. I think I’m crazy.” His voice is barely above a whisper, the regret so deep it almost hurts to hear “It’s me who pushed you away.”

The words hit you like a punch. You know he’s not lying. He has been selfish. He’s pushed you away. But hearing him admit it… you want to believe that it’s enough, that his regret is real.

But still, you stay quiet, unsure of how to process the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

He steps even closer now, his eyes searching yours, like he’s begging you to say something, anything.

“I was a fool” His voice falters, and his gaze drops to the ground as he shakes his head “Even if I regret it now, nothing changes, and I know it.”

There it is again, the finality in his voice. He knows the damage is done. He knows you might never look at him the same way again. And that hurts. More than anything.

You feel your heart aching, but you don’t know what to do with it. His regret is clear, but is it enough? Is it enough to fix what he’s broken?

Law reaches out, but stops just short of touching you. His hand hovers in the air for a moment, and then he lets it fall, his shoulders slumping.

“I don’t care if it’s just a short moment. I'm glad I could see you once more… For the last time.”

His voice cracks, and you can feel the desperation in him. He wants something from you, but what? Forgiveness? Understanding?

“You used to dazzle, and now you’re far away. Going through the scattered memories, I long for you every day.” His words are soft now, almost pleading.

You take a shaky breath. His voice, his confession, it all makes you ache, but you still don’t know what to say. You want to reach out, to tell him that it’s okay, that you forgive him. But you’re not sure if you can just let it go that easily. The hurt is still there.

“Yes, I know I’m late. But please... I wish you could just come back as if nothing happened.” He speaks the words as if he’s begging the universe itself to let you come back to him. But you don’t know if you can.

You turn away, not because you want to, but because you don’t know how to respond. His words, his pain, they echo in your mind, but you’re not ready. Not yet.

The silence between you both is deafening. Law stands just a few feet away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his face still full of regret and confusion. He doesn’t know what else to say. You can see it in his eyes he’s waiting for something, anything from you. His gaze flickers over your face, searching for a sign that you’ll let him in again.

But you can’t bring yourself to speak. You’re not sure if you can.

The world around you feels distant, like everything is happening in a dream, and you’re not sure if you want to wake up.

Law shifts his weight, taking another small step forward. You hear him inhale deeply, the weight of his next words heavy in the air.

“I know I’m late,” he says, voice barely a whisper, but it’s enough to cut through the silence “I know I messed up, and it’s my fault. I was selfish. I only thought about myself. And now… now look at what I’ve done.”

His words are raw, stripped of all his usual bravado. This is the Law you’ve never seen before, vulnerable, lost, and so deeply ashamed.

You feel your chest tighten as his words settle into your bones. The storm inside you rages on. You’re angry. You’re hurt. But you’re also confused. You want to hate him. You want to shout, to tell him how much he’s hurt you. But every time you look at him, every time you hear the sincerity in his voice, it feels like something in you starts to crumble.

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean the things I said. I… I was stupid. I didn’t think.” his voice cracks, and you can hear the frustration in his tone “You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve me being so… so careless.”

You stay silent. You can feel the anger rising in your chest, the hurt threatening to swallow you whole, but you can’t say it. Not yet. Not when he’s standing there, looking so torn apart.

Law takes another step closer, his voice trembling with the weight of his words.

“I know I was an idiot. A complete fool. I pushed you away, and now I’m the one who’s paying the price” He’s so close now you can almost feel the heat of his body, but the space between you both feels like a vast ocean. His eyes meet yours, and you can see the depth of his regret, the raw pain that he’s trying to hide “But I can’t stand this. I can’t stand being without you. I need to hear your voice. Please… just give me one more chance.”

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over you with all the force of the emotions you’ve been trying to bury. The storm inside you threatens to explode, and for a moment, you can’t hold it back anymore.

You turn to face him fully, your heart hammering in your chest. His gaze never wavers from yours, his expression pleading, desperate.

“Fool, stupid,” you hear him mutter again, almost to himself “I now know it’s all my fault.” He’s repeating it like some sort of mantra, the guilt weighing him down with every word.

You want to scream at him. You want to throw your anger in his face and tell him how much he’s hurt you, how much you’ve been suffering because of him. But instead, your voice cracks as you finally speak.

“Law…” Your voice is barely a whisper, but it’s enough to get his attention. His eyes lock onto yours, searching, hoping.

“I… I don’t know if I can just forgive you like that,” you say, your voice trembling “You hurt me. You pushed me away without thinking about how I felt. I gave you what you wanted before leaving for good. I gave you your space. All while I was hurting, thinking you hated me. And now you expect me to just forget it?”

Law flinches, the weight of your words hitting him harder than anything else. His face falls, guilt flashing across his features.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even deserve it,” he says quietly, almost to himself “I just… I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I know it’s too late, but I needed to say it. I needed you to know that I was wrong. I’ve always been so focused on myself, on the crew, on work… but you were right there beside me, trying to help me and all I did was pushing you away because of my own pride.”

The sincerity in his words cuts through the tension like a knife. You can see it in his eyes now, the man you’ve known for so long, the captain who’s always carried himself with such confidence, now breaking down in front of you. He’s not just asking for your forgiveness. He’s asking for a chance.

You swallow hard, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. You’re torn. Part of you wants to forgive him, to reach out and pull him into your arms and tell him it’s okay, that everything will be fine. But another part of you feels like that would be too easy. Too quick.

Law’s head drops, his shoulders slumping in defeat. His hands fidget at his sides, unable to find comfort in anything. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally, and it’s clear that he doesn’t know how to fix what’s broken.

“Please,” he whispers again, his voice barely audible “Just… just let me make it right.”

You stand there, torn between the feelings of anger, sadness, and the remnants of the love you’ve always had for him. His words are genuine, but is it enough? You don’t know. You don’t know if anything will be enough to undo the hurt he caused.

But as you look at him, really look at him, you see the pain in his eyes, and you feel the wall inside your heart start to crack.

You can’t undo the past. And maybe it’s too soon to forgive him fully. But you can’t let him keep carrying this weight by himself either.

You take a deep breath, your heart still racing in your chest.

“I don’t know, Law,” you say quietly “I’m not just going to pretend nothing happen.”

Law nods slowly, his expression a mix of regret and relief. He doesn’t speak, but you can see the understanding in his eyes. This is far from over. The road to healing, to forgiveness, will be long and difficult. But for now, this is a start.

“I know,” he whispers, stepping back, giving you space “I’m willing to wait. As long as it takes.”

You nod at him, because maybe that’s enough for now.

The silence between you and Law is thick, heavy with everything that has been said and everything that hasn’t. His eyes are still on you, searching, waiting, but you don’t know if you’re ready to give him a proper answer. Not yet. The emotions swirling inside you are too much, too tangled to sort through in just one moment.

Then, just as you open your mouth to say something the sound of hurried footsteps echoes from the shadows. Before either of you can react, the crew bursts into the room, their faces alight with mischief and unrestrained grins.

“Ahh, finally!” Penguin announces, throwing his arms up dramatically “Took you two long enough.”

Your stomach drops “Wait, what—”

Bepo nods sagely “We were listening the whole time... sorry.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you glance at Law, who pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply “Of course you were...” His voice is flat, but you can hear the underlying exasperation.

Shachi waves a hand dismissively “C’mon, Captain, don’t act like you’re mad. We did you a favor.”

“I didn’t ask for a favor” Law grumbles, crossing his arms.

The crew doesn’t care. Instead, they exchange knowing looks before turning their attention to you.

“So,” Ikkaku starts, leaning in with an eager expression, “does this mean you’re back?”

Your breath catches in your throat “I—”

“I mean, you missed us, right?” Shachi adds, wiggling his eyebrows “And you obviously missed our dear Captain here.”

You shoot him a glare, but the heat creeping up your face betrays you. Law, for his part, looks about two seconds away from kicking them all out, but the crew is relentless.

“Look,” Penguin says, his grin softening into something more genuine, “we just want you to be happy. Both of you.”

Bepo nods again “You belong with us. With him.”

Your heart twists at their words, and you glance at Law, who’s watching you carefully. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something there, hope, uncertainty, a silent question only you can answer.

The room feels impossibly small with all eyes on you, but deep down, you already know what you want. You’ve known all along. This is your family. And Law… Law is the person who has always held your heart, no matter how much pain the journey brought you.

Taking a deep breath, you meet Law’s gaze and finally speak “If you’ll have me… I’d like to stay.”

For the first time that night, Law’s lips twitch into the ghost of a smile “Idiot,” he mutters, but his voice is softer now, tinged with relief “You never had to ask.”

The crew erupts into cheers, celebrating your return like it’s the greatest victory of all. Shachi and Penguin slap Law on the back, while Bepo all but tackles you into a hug. The warmth of their acceptance, their excitement, is overwhelming, but it’s exactly what you needed.

Law doesn’t say anything else, the crew slaps his back more and he loses his balance and is now close enough that your shoulders brush.

Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, everything else fades away. A faint blush dusts both your cheeks as you get lost in the quiet intensity of his gaze, drawn into each other as if the rest of the world has ceased to exist.

The noise in the room gradually dies down as the crew starts noticing, nudging and elbowing each other with smirks and wide grins. One by one, they fall silent, watching as you and Law remain caught in each other’s stare, completely oblivious to everything around you.

Then, just as the moment stretches unbearably long, Shachi clears his throat loudly “Oi, oi, are you two gonna keep making heart eyes at each other or what?”

The spell shatters instantly. You and Law both snap back to reality, faces burning, while the crew bursts into laughter and cheers once more.

Despite the teasing, despite the embarrassment, you can’t stop the small, genuine smile that tugs at your lips. Because in this moment, with Law beside you and your family around you, everything feels right.

You’re home.

163 notes · View notes

daylighted · 1 day ago

Text

─ SWALLOW THE SMOKE, dad's best friend ! jackles

your dad's best friend isn't the best influence, is he? if he goes down, you're going down with him.

warnings. ( 18+ ! ) pls for the love of god don't interact with this series if you're a minor. hefty age gap. weed mention / weed smoking. slight innocent!reader & corruption arc + slight hurt/comfort. inebriated making out HAHA. word count. 4.3k

sneak into his room here!

THE NEXT MORNING IS AS UNCOMFORTABLE as one can be. the dining table is laden with breakfast, the smell of buttery pancakes and crispy bacon. two plates sat in the center of the table piled high with both, a bowl of assorted chopped fruits in between them. there's a big glass bottle of orange juice lifted between the thick fingers of—

him.

jensen looks better this morning than he had by the end of your time together. his eyes no longer hooded and empty of anything, like he'd buried all of his feelings between your legs and left them there to dry, but rather revitalized. there's a shine in his eyes, now, when they drift up to the kitchen archway you stand in.

"morning, honey," your dad greets, a piece of bacon held between his two fingers. he crunches down on a bite before he offers you a toothy smile. "sleep okay?"

you’d slept like a rock, what with how you’d spent thirty minutes locked away in the bathroom with the man ogling you over the dinner table, and then a couple more hours trying to pretend that you weren’t limping. at least you had the throwaway excuse of jetlag to explain away most of it.

jensen’s head drops to stare at his plate, pushing around the scrambled eggs on it. still, you can see the dimples breaking into the crests of his cheeks. "i slept fine," you say on a breath, dropping into the seat closest to the doorway.

"how ‘bout you, jens?" your father’s attention shifts to the other side of the table, waving the bacon around in gesture. "guest bed treat you alright?"

jensen’s left hand wraps around the glass bottle of orange juice, lifting the rim of it to his mouth. his voice echoes and muffles in the half empty glass when he says, "like a baby."

you pretend to be disinterested. you stab a fork through a strawberry in the fruit bowl, popping it into your mouth, eyes specifically averted from the bob of jensen’s throat as he drinks.

your mother slips a pancake from the hot skillet onto your plate, ruffling your hair when she passes. "mornin’, sweet girl," she says with a hum, "you gonna be okay if dad and i head out for a few hours, or do you wanna come with us?"

you think you must have missed part of this conversation, specifically not watching jensen’s adam’s apple so much that you had shut out the entire else of the world. your face twists in confusion, turning half around in your chair to prop your elbow on its back. "go where?"

"oh, just a few little errands around town," your mother says, punctuated by the click of the stove turning off. "heading down to your dad's work, picking up a few things... a little grocery shopping to keep up stock for our two guests." she flashes you and jensen a smile, and there's something so innocent about it, isn't there? how she lumps you two both in the same equation, unaware of what'd went down under their roof just hours ago?

you swallow thickly, refusing to glance over in jensen's direction. his eyes were still on you. you know what they felt like, like warm honey, dripping down the length of your body as he eyed you up. it takes every ounce of your restraint to not shift under the scrutiny. "i'll be okay," you promise, telling yourself the lie that it was not because you hoped jensen was staying, too.

what was your plan here, anyways? surely nothing good, with the way that you had to ask yourself a question like that. something like this was doomed from the jump, and yet, you chase it anyways.

"keep an eye on her, yeah?" your dad is asking jensen, sighing through his nose as he rises from the kitchen table. he tugs open the stainless steel dishwasher's door and drops his dirty dishes in before he spares you any acknowledgement. "doubtful she'll get into trouble, but—"

"dad." your face is hot, the words stuttering out of your open mouth. "i don't need a babysitter, i'm in college—"

jensen clears his throat, the simple sound enough to stop you dead in the middle of your ramblings. "actually, i've gotta head out for an hour or so, too," he waves his fork around in gesture, a tuft of scrambled eggs impaled on the prongs, "so you're safe from gettin' stuck with a babysitter, pretty thing."

the disappointment is like a double edged blade. you were free from him for a little while, but that also meant that you were free from him. your father sounds just as surprised, though he masks it better than you do. you have to remind yourself to breathe again in your momentary shock. "everything all good?"

"just a few little errands around town," he echoes your mother's words with a charming smile in her direction. when jensen's eyes make their way back to you, the clarity in the depths of the green strikes you speechless all over again. "i'll be back in time to shut down whatever party she throws in my absence."

how boring did it make you that the thought of a party didn't even cross your mind? all of the warning stories you'd heard about jensen's party animal days really had done their number on you. but on the same hand, how much trouble did it make you that you only wanted to stay home to be around him?

"i'm not going to throw a party," you scoff, and it really is that ridiculous to you, because why are they worried that their only child, the one they raised to be good, would do something like that? really, the thing they should have been worrying over was if you would fuck the forty-something guy sitting at your kitchen table. again.

maybe they were valid to worry.

you tune back in to the conversation to your parents up on their feet, clearing up the empty dishes left. you spear another strawberry, much more aggressively this time. as they tend to do, your eyes drift to the left, expectedly finding him watching you still. his hand is around the mostly empty bottle of orange juice, the neck of it in his gripping fingers, his lips to the mouth of it.

pushing out of the seat you were in, you sidestep around your parents to get to him, shoving the bottle down from his mouth with a finger on the rim. "you shouldn’t drink straight from the bottle."

"my bad, sweetheart," jensen drawls, free hand raising in his surrender, "didn’t know what i did was so heavy on your mind."

"other people could want some of it, you know," arguing just because you could; anything to make it look like you weren’t blatantly ignoring the guest in your house, "and it’s not even your house, you can’t just—"

jensen nods along as you speak, his eyebrows raising as his lips purse in mock understanding. "i get it, sweet girl," he echoes your mother’s pet name back to you, somehow making your face hotter than it already felt, "i’ll be better next time, yeah?"

it was not fair for him to get to tease you like this when he’d been the one who got weird the night prior over his own decisions. it wasn’t fair that he could smirk at you and the memory threatens to erase itself. you feel it twisting in your chest — the irritation and the strange wisps of hurt that you can’t even explain curl around your heart in a vice grip. you lift the bottle to your own mouth, thinking that it’s a power move. dominance asserted in your own house, right?

jensen only smirks, now both of his hands raised in surrender. "if you wanted something from me, you could have just asked."

you barely manage to not choke. again, he’s so shameless in front of your parents, as if the fact that you’d even given into him in the first place wasn’t something detrimental to you. he rises from his feet before you can find a response, his emptied plate in hand, pressing a polite chaste kiss to your mother’s cheek as he slips it into the open dishwasher. "thanks for breakfast, laur."

he’s gone before you can blink, the sound of the front door opening and closing behind him like its own punctuation mark. you don’t even want orange juice. jensen had won whatever game this was, anyways.

you help with cleaning the rest of the remnants of breakfast back up, getting yourself a proper plate in the process, since you’d been a little too focused on keeping up a stone-faced facade to actually eat.

"he’s not giving you too much trouble, is he?" your dad draws you from the stupor you’d fallen into, stabbing at the fruit atop your pancakes.

you blink in momentary surprise before you shake your head. "no, why?"

he hesitates, setting the dry towel back on the counter next to the kitchen sink. his arms cross over his chest, one of those half-baked smiles on his lips. "he’s a good guy, jensen, but he makes a lot of shitty decisions."

"what’s that have to do with me?" you ask, a little unsettled by whatever warning this was playing out to be. it wasn’t you who needed this talking to, you didn’t think; he was supposed to be the responsible one, wasn’t he?

your father lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "just… don’t take anything to heart that he says. he’s only here for a couple more days, which is more than enough for him to fuck something up." it wasn’t necessarily news to you, considering everything you’d learned growing up about him and his antics, but this seemed like more than just stupid drunken mistakes at frat parties. "tell me if he starts to pester you too much and i’ll handle it."

"dad, i can handle myself." you weren’t a little kid anymore. you may have been their only child, but you were grown up, now.

still, your dad waves his hand dismissively. "i know you can, but i’ve dealt with him longer. i know how to hit him where it hurts." he pats your shoulder on his way out of the kitchen.

you’re not sure how to exactly respond or think of any of that. sure, jensen was a little bit insane for pursuing you at all, but he seemed relatively fine beyond that? of course, you’d only known him properly for twenty four hours, now. the truth was its own sort of blade, held between his fingers, daring you to question its sharpness before it dug into your skin.

great. just what you needed: more alone time with the stranger in your house that you'd, somehow, let in your pants. at least there were plenty of leftovers from the party last night so you didn't have to try and swindle something to cook out of your parents' notoriously ingredient only household.

jensen hadn't returned yet. the sun was past the crest of setting, the sky deep violet and winking with stars. at least you had that, for now, but it wasn't going to last. eventually, he'd come back from whatever errands took half the day. maybe you'd get lucky and he somehow found out that your parents were at a steakhouse and dropped in.

you sat at the kitchen table again, your phone propped up on the wooden surface, doom scrolling through every social media you had until it bored you and you switched. idly, you pick at the food on your plate, knowing that you were waiting for the front door to open but refusing to acknowledge that fact to yourself.

the second the door does open, though, you drop the fork in your hand in surprise. it had to happen eventually, but it still managed to catch you off guard.

jensen had said he was running errands, and yet the only thing he returns with is a brown paper bag in his one fist.

"your errands was just getting alcohol?" you ask, leaned back in your seat to see him gliding through the entrance room of your house.

his head tilts up as he kicks off his boots, a little smirk on his mouth. "i don't think that's any of your business, little lady." little lady. you visibly bristle at that, and that only makes his dimples deepen in his cheeks. "gotta have somethin' to put up with you, don't i?"

"you weren't saying that last night." the words just slip out, your expression falling the second they are. that was stupid. you were lucky your parents were out of the house.

his face seems to reflect that, too, eyes darting into the kitchen archway as he steps through it, like he was looking for them. "last night was rough." it was, but it was doubtful that you and him were on the same page about what he meant by that. you open your mouth to attest to that, but he cuts you off. "parents not home?"

your mouth zips shut again. then, "obviously not."

"i'd watch that pretty mouth, sweetheart," jensen hums, dropping the brown bag on the kitchen countertop behind him. he rifles through it, the clink of his fingertips on the beer cans inside just proof to what you'd asked initially. "or i'm not gonna share."

your face scrunches up. "i don't want to drink tonight. they're not going to be gone for long, they're just on a—"

"i'm not talkin' about drinkin', babygirl," he says with a scoff, tugging a little ziploc from the depths of the brown bag. if you didn't already know what the rolled up joints inside were, the smell that permeates the small room gives it away. you stare at him, unimpressed. "someone was real pissy this morning when i didn't share, so i decided to try n' make it up to her."

you cross your arms. jensen mimics your stance right back.

so this was the game you were playing.

"i don't smoke." it wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the full truth. you did it once back in exam week, and the guilt of that impulsive decision had made your high one of torturous anxiety instead of something peaceful to take the edge off.

jensen fishes a lighter from his pocket, rolling the ziploc closed again, waving the both of them in your direction between his two fingers. "i'll be on the back porch if you change your mind," he hums, and the smile on his mouth is infuriatingly gentle. disappointed, even.

there was no possible way that this was the same man who'd fucked you and then didn't look in your direction for the entire rest of the night prior. you'd just assumed that you were one of his aforementioned bad decisions, something that he'd move past.

this was not part of whatever plan you had in your head to get through the rest of this weekend. him actually seeming to at least acknowledge your feelings or how he effected them was not what you prepared for.

the glass screen door to the back patio slides open and then shuts with a light thud. for a few seconds, you sit in silence at the table, gnawing on your bottom lip as the road splits in front of you. go outside, or stay in.

the smell drifts in through the open window above the sink, and your decision is made for you. you jump up to shove it closed, and isn't that just the perfect excuse to step outside and pick an argument? the story continues to write itself.

you push open the glass door, one foot inside, one foot on the golden lit back porch. jensen's sitting in your dad's favorite patio chair, the one closest to the deep blue porch swing that your mom loved.

"you should close the windows before you start doing things you're not supposed to."

jensen doesn't glance in your direction, the joint hung between his two lips as he sucks in a deep breath, the cherry of it glowing red. "didn't know i was on the same tight leash they've got 'round you," his voice is muffled, speaking from the corner of his mouth.

you falter for a second. "i'm not on a leash."

"aren't you?" then, he glances over, eyebrows raised on his forehead. his fingers pluck the joint from between his lips, smoke curling around his words. "what exactly did you learn about me, pretty girl?"

you didn't understand this shift in the conversation. you step fully out onto the back porch, leaning back against the glass when you shut it behind you. "you went to the hospital with alcohol poisoning once? you ate a worm for a couple of bucks?" his lips twitch at that one, which feels like invitation enough to keep going. "that you went to class high as a kite, once, and—"

"publicly humiliated myself, yeah." jensen's hands spread open in an invisible reveal. "what else?"

again, you don't know what he's getting at out of all of this. "um, i know about that time you dated my aunt and—"

"something that doesn't stem from one of my low points," he interjects, cocking his head to the side. "don't got any of those types of stories locked n' loaded, do you?"

you stare at him for a long while, wracking your brain for anything at all. it clicks in your mind, then, that you really don't. you'd thought that jensen ackles was a figment of your dad's imagination, a character created just to warn you off of doing certain things, for a reason: because those were the only things you'd ever been told.

"and did you ever go to a frat party?" the joint is between his lips again, bouncing with each time his lips moved.

you square your jaw, straighten your shoulders. "yes, actually."

"do any keg stands?"

"no, but—"

"probably didn't eat a worm, did you?" again, this one makes him smile, even if it feels a little disjointed.

your face twists up. "absolutely not."

"and i guarantee you've either not smoked before, or you did it and hated it, swore it off, let your parents' little warnings echo in your head in approval at it. definitely didn't date someone just to make your dad happy, considering i bet you've never dated at all."

this wasn't supposed to be how this went. you were supposed to piss him off, pick at him enough to either make him drag you back inside and up to one of your rooms, or pester him enough to get him to spill whatever secrets your dad was talking about. jensen was not supposed to look you in the eyes and tell you all of the experiences you'd, so far, kept away from.

it stung. salt in wounds you didn't know you'd even had until he took the bruises beneath his fingers and jabbed. it must show on your face that he was spot on, even if you'd never admit it out loud, because his expression shifts too.

"so sit the hell down and let loose a little, sweetheart," his voice is softer now, like he recognized that he'd pushed a little too hard and was trying to make up for it, "i'm not gonna bite."

your hesitation is less forced this time. you drop down onto the porch swing, folding one of your legs up beneath you in the process. next to you, jensen plucks the half-smoked joint from his fingers and passes it over to you.

holding it between your fingers, you suck in a slow inhale, the smoke filling up your mouth and seeping down into your lungs. jensen's eyes are on you, they're always on you, watching you with a gaze you wouldn't dare call awe, but something akin to it.

"i mean," he adds as an afterthought, waving his one hand around aimlessly, "i could bite. if y'wanted me to."

right as you make to exhale, you're choking and spluttering on a laugh. he laughs right along with you, keeling half over himself in the process. "seriously?" you ask him, exasperatedly, and all he can give is an answering wheeze.

he coughs a couple of times, shaking his head as the sound of his laughter dies in the growing darkness. "you make it so damn easy."

like you have something to prove, and maybe you do, you give him a look around the dissipating smoke you'd choked out before you take another longer hit from the joint in your mouth. your lungs ache from choking on the last one, so you can't hold it in your chest as much as you wanted to to show off, but you still manage.

"you’re so pretty, baby," jensen drawls, and this time, the awe in his eyes is evident. they’re glittery green, his lips in a lazy smile.

you hate to admit that you like him best like this. all soft smiles and warm laughs and rasping voice. he’s as pretty as pretty can be, even if you don’t fully understand where you fit in his life, or where you’re supposed to fit him.

you give him a look from beneath the dark curls of your eyelashes, unable to resist the eye roll to follow. "shut up." he laughs again in response, but you aren’t done. the high hasn’t hit you, yet, but the placebo that comes from it has you relaxing back into your seat. "you know, i don’t understand you."

jensen folds his hands behind his head. "never asked for you to understand me."

"no, you just kissed me," you argue back, and the laughter bubbles out of you all on its own. "and—"

"i could kiss you again."

you cock an eyebrow at him. he cocks one right back. again, you grin despite yourself, dropping your gaze. "you won’t."

the patio chair creaks beneath him when he leans forward. his index finger tips your chin up, his face close enough that you can see the red outlining his eyes. "is that a challenge, or a lie?"

"i think that’s for you to figure out."

you almost look away, then, not able to withstand the eye contact he’d adamant on holding, but his grin softens, only making it harder to look away. "you’re so pretty, baby," he echoes it with a reverence that can’t he faked, not easily, at least.

"you’re a terrible influence," you manage to whisper, and that’s all that you can say, your voice trailing off before you can say anything else.

jensen shakes his head though, his hand coming up to cup your cheek beneath his palm. his thumb dances across your cheekbone. "i never claimed to be good."

and when jensen closes the distance between the both of you, you don’t move away. it's different than your first kiss, much more tender and slow, too much like he might mean it when you know he doesn't.

still, your hands raise to hold his face between them, the stubble of his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your palms. you raise up from your spot on the porch swing and he curls his fingers around your waist, guiding you into the expanse of his lap. his skin is so hot beneath his clothes as you drag your hands down his chest.

jensen parts your lips with his tongue, meeting yours with the same slow-paced laziness he'd grinned at you with. like he's savoring it, every inch, of the tongue that meets his each time. you try, you really do, to not make any sort of indication that you like this as much as you do, but the little whimper in your throat slips free anyways.

he laughs, and laughs again when his teeth scrape across the inside of your bottom lip, dragging it back with him before he swoops back in to properly kiss you again.

it's just kissing, but something about the drug coursing your system has heat pooling between your legs. it's just kissing, but he's worshiping your mouth, laying down prayers with each sweep of his tongue.

you don't know how long you're like that, sitting in his lap while he laps at your tongue with deliberate slowness, getting to know every inch of what you offer to him with intimacy that can't possibly only exist for these last couple of days.

the headlights from the driveway cast two bright gold beams across the backyard, only a couple feet away from the porch you and jensen are lounging on, one slight angle shift away from exposing what the both of you were getting up to in your parents' absence.

he's the one to pull away, pressing his lips together as if he could preserve the taste of the earth on your breath and staining your lips between his. when his eyes open, there's no mistaking it: a longing that won't be there in the morning, but at least it exists, then.

you're the one to move first, even if he was the one to break it. you smooth out your clothes with hands that you pretend aren't shaking, and now, you don't look back over your shoulder when you pry the sliding glass doors open and step inside.

you make it up to your room before your parents make it inside, the door shutting behind you like a permanent seal, closing you off from them and jensen.

through your open window, you can smell the smoke from his joint, as prominent as it was outside, the only indication that he didn't move.

notes | this was going to be SO much longer and take place over the span of 3 days but i decided ... what's the rush in speedrunning all three days of his stay ! PLUS I HAVE TO BUILD CHEMISTRY OK !!! dont mind me ik what i'm doing </3

become a notch on jensen's bedpost by commenting ☠ !! @soldiersgirl @seven7lee @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @winchestersbgirl @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @lonelylonelybaby @mourningthewicked @ultravi0lence14 @1-imbroglio @hughesinthebox @angels-silhouette @blossomingorchids @chris444evr @cassiecourtemanche @writtenbyhollywood @adrienneleclerc @losers-clvb @bluemerakis @fuckedupfate @legalmente-loca @k-slla @fxckingjo @blueschevy @fitxgrld @viluren @youdontknowe @sizzlingcheesecakepanda @cupidluvzz

#dahlia's ☆ journal #dad's best friend!jensen #best friend's daughter!reader #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles angst #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles one shot

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asxgard · 2 days ago

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Companionship | pt. 3

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: A few moments where Michael is finally honest and a few where he is not.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: y’all are so lovely!! I’m so glad that you guys are enjoying this as much as I am lol Thank you for all the likes, comments, and reblogs!! and shoutout to all my new followers, like omg hi💜

I caved and posted to AO3 with a f!oc so I could explore a character more in depth without imposing too much on the reader, so if you’re interested: AO3 Companionship

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: age gap, foul language, death mentioned (a patient), Robby still trying to bottle up his feelings, alcohol

not beta read

that damn smile

The days passed slowly considering how busy they had been. Between projects, homework, the office, and your half-assed chores, you were beat. That Friday morning was uneventful, a foggy start where you ran from your two classes, hoping it wouldn’t rain. You regretted not signing up for online classes, foolishly thinking being present would make you more productive. Maybe it did, but you longed to be home. As selfish as the thought was, you missed the time when you worked from home.

A weird thing happened around lunchtime: you were sitting at you desk with a homemade sandwich, lunchtime ticking away far too quickly. Your phone rang, and half expecting a scam call, you were surprised to find Michael’s name lighting up your screen.

You swallowed a bite of your sandwich before answering, “Hello?”

“Hello, hi.” His warm voice greeted her.

“I’m sorry. Did I forget we had a call right now?”

“No, no.” He suddenly sounded awkward again. “I, uh, I only have a few minutes, but I was hoping we could talk tonight? My shift should end at 7, but they never end on time.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” You said without thinking about it. “Usually you text me.”

A moment of silence passed. “I usually don’t have time to check my phone, and I just wanted to make sure you could talk tonight. You know, make sure you had a decent amount of notice. I’m sorry, I should’ve—”

You ignored the way your stomach flipped, clearing your throat, “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

In his silence, you picked up on the array of beeps that grew louder on his end.

“I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you tonight? 8:30, maybe?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “That works.”

“Good, uh, okay. Yeah. Talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later.”

—

In a rare lull of the Emergency Department, he had had his phone out before he had even thought about it, stepping into the staff lounge, and clicking on your contact. Usually it was a quick text sent in between patients, but then the phone had been ringing, your voice on the other end.

Michael stared at your contact after the call ended for a long moment, the chaos around him that had been quiet while talking to you slowly becoming louder and louder. Stuffing his phone back into his pocket and ignoring the feeling churning around his stomach, he jumped back into it. Dana had been the one to alert him of a car crash incoming, and he hoped she had not caught him staring at his phone.

Despite the fact that his shifts usually blurred together with how quickly they seemed to go, this one had seemed to slam on the brakes. It was no less busy than normal, but each minute ticked away like an hour, driving him mad.

It was a relief when Jack Abbot walked into the ED to take over. Not wanting to seem too off, Dr. Robby lingered, helping out with a few more critical patients before Jack finally shooed him out.

His watch read 7:39 when he collected his things from behind the charge desk.

Part of him really wanted to open up to you — the anonymity was tempting, but so was your voice — but the other part hated being so vulnerable. Not talking about it had worked out pretty well so far, but it left his chest feeling so tight and made his nights nearly always restless. Or maybe it was the grief. Or the stress. Or the loneliness.

Maybe not so much the loneliness anymore, Michael thought to himself.

Michael walked into his apartment and discarded his backpack by the door, along with his shoes. His entire body sagged, exhaustion running through his system. He realized how hungry he was and knew there was not much in his apartment to eat.

Before he knew it, it was 8:31, making his heart jump. Reaching for his phone, his finger hovered above the call button before he took a deep breath and pressed it.

You answered after two rings, ever reliable, “Hi.”

His lips turned upwards at the sound of you. “Hi.”

“How are you?”

He digested the question. From your handful of calls, it seemed to be your way of judging if he wanted to talk or just listen.

“It wasn’t a bad shift,” passed his lips before he had the chance to think about it. “I’ve had worse.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t feel bad or stressed about it.” You said, not missing a beat.

“I lost a patient.” He told you. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

You went silent on the other end and guilt ate away his insides. It wasn’t about this patient in particular, or how he lost them, not really. Sure, that weighed on his mind, but nothing compared to Adamson, or the pandemic.

Despite the fact he didn’t want to talk about it, he kept going, “There was nothing we could do. I tried—we—”

“It’s not your fault.”

That struck down his spine, making him sputter. Maybe he was looking for a reason it was, maybe it wasn’t about this patient at all. He had a hard time distinguishing sometimes.

“I’m sure if you could’ve saved them, you would’ve.” You told him, and everything around him was completely silent. “I won’t pretend to understand the weight you carry, or how hard that has to be, but I know you did everything you could. You’re a good man, Michael, and god forbid anything were to happen to me, I know I’d be lucky to have a doctor like you.”

You said it like it was nothing, like the weight of your words did not scoop up the weight on his shoulders and carry it for just a moment. For a single minute, he felt okay. Then, the thoughts crept back in: but you don’t know me.

But maybe I want you to. He shook that thought off just as quickly as it came.

“I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“What?”

What? echoed in his own head, and he quickly started rambling, “You know, maybe talk in person. Might be nice. Only if that’s okay with you? We don’t have to, I—”

The weight of it burned heavily in his mind, churning his stomach. Would you want more money for that? Would you just consider it your weekly talk? Would you—

“That would be nice.”

His racing mind screeched to a halt. “It would?”

“Yeah, did you have a place in mind?”

Fuck! “...no.”

“Well, dealer’s choice.” You told him, your tone light like you were smiling again.

He sat on that for a minute. Did he take you somewhere fancy? Someplace miles away to ensure no one caught you? He still wanted to make sure you stayed far away from his professional life, and he certainly did not want to answer any questions if anyone he knew saw you.

“There’s this Italian place just outside the city. I’ve been meaning to go back.”

“Italian sounds good, actually.”

He smiled.

—

This isn’t a date. This isn’t a date you repeated to yourself over and over again, trying to quiet the anxiety raging through your system. You weren’t all that surprised when he had asked to meet in person, it had been part of the conversation at the cafe. Phone calls had just been easier for him to fit into his schedule up until this point. Or maybe it was easier for him to talk when it wasn’t face-to-face.

According to Google, the Italian restaurant was more of an upscale place, which led to your anxiety on what to wear. Their menu was on the expensive side when you browsed their website. You felt guilt rise in your chest, knowing he was going to be paying.

How the hell did Erin do it? Let those men spoil her with things much more expensive than a nice Italian restaurant with zero feelings of owing them?

Erin’s arrangements are different, you told yourself, sighing deeply through your nose. This is still well in line with what we agreed to. So why on earth were you overthinking it?

Staring into your closet, you weighed your options. There was the knee-length navy blue dress you had worn to the interview for your job, or the pretty black dress that complimented your figure that you wore to graduation, or your most recent splurge: a dress in your favorite color with a flowy skirt. It wasn’t fancy by any stretch, but you certainly would not wear it out for a casual night either.

It seemed like a happy medium between something modest and something you would wear out with your friends.

After fixing your hair, you started your ‘get ready for a night out’ routine. Your mind wandered to what he would wear; would he dress up? Simple shirt and slacks? Would he wear cologne, or—

This isn’t a date, you reminded yourself, why does it matter?

Taking a long look at yourself in the mirror, your eyes took in your appearance. The dress was flattering in all the right ways. You took a breath, smoothing out the dress.

You took your purse from the table by the door, putting on your black heels and light jacket before walking out the door. You left early, stuck between wanting to be early and not wanting to be there first.

The drive did little to soothe your nerves, traffic proving to be as frustrating as usual. You tried to coach yourself through it. This was two acquaintances getting dinner, nothing more, looking to simply talk. Your standards were not high — he would either want to talk or listen, and you had plenty you could still tell him about your week. This was just going to be like a phone call…just in person.

When you pulled up to the venue, you parked your car and sat there — anxiety eating you up. You debated waiting a little longer, eyes flickering to the time: 6:25. Biting your lip, you gathered your purse, tucking your phone away before getting out of the car.

Michael was waiting for you once you reached the lobby, greeting you with a warm smile. You drank in the sight of him in the dim lighting of the restaurant, your cheeks heating. He was wearing brown chinos, a soft grey-blue sweater and a blazer — and your heart nearly stopped just looking at him.

The host walked you both to your table. As you walked past, you took notice of several of the other women, noting you were not overdressed and relief washed through you. Your table was tucked away near a corner of the restaurant, next to a window.

When you were seated, you looked over at Michael across from you and smiled. The lines on his face were softer in this lighting, but he was remarkably handsome regardless, with his lips in a soft smile.

“How—”

“I—”

You both laughed, before Michael gestured for you to start.

“How are you?” You asked, figuring it was as good a place as any to start.

“I’m okay,” he told you, but it looked like he was trying to convince himself more than you. “Uh, how was your day?”

His voice sent shivers down your spine, so used to hearing it on the other end of a phone call. It did so many things in person.

You sipped the ice water in front of you. “I’m well, thank you.”

“How’s that fraud project going?”

You smiled, finding it nice that he remembered some of your ramblings. You had wondered how much he actually listened to vs just needing a voice on the other end of his call.

“It’s going really well, actually. I’ve been really enjoying the course.”

“Good, that’s good.”

The waiter came by to take your drink order, and Michael surprised you by allowing you to order for both of you.

“I’ll have whatever the lady is having.” Michael said, turning his attention back to you.

“Do you like reds?” You asked, deciding wine would be the safest bet, shoving away the thoughts of him not liking wine at all.

He gave a simple nod, and you turned back to the waiter to order a simple pinot noir for each of you. You waited for any sign from him that you had made the wrong choice, but he was sitting happy as could be across from you. You looked down at the menu, weighing your options. You could try to be cheap and order something simple, or forget about the price next to the dishes and allow yourself to be spoiled.

“Tell me about your day.” He said.

That felt as easy as breathing, “I slept in, a rarity for me, but then I got caught up on studying. Between that and some of my reports, that ate up most of my day. My laptop is on the fritz, but as long as it’s plugged in, it’s been fine. Not an impossible work around, but thankfully I didn’t really need to be anywhere with it today. I bring it to classes with me sometimes, but hand-written notes are just as reliable, though they sometimes just look like chicken scratch.” You chuckled.

“Oh, please,” he laughed, “I bet yours are worlds better than mine. There’s a stereotype about doctors' handwriting for a reason.”

“At least I’m the only one who needs to read mine.” Smiling, you continued, “Why’s it so bad anyways? Is legibility an offense to you, or something?”

“The name of the game is speed, unfortunately. I’m so busy I’m lucky to sit down at all. Charting on the computer helps, but those physical files are not going anywhere.” He laughed. “You get used to it.”

You continued like that, jesting and enjoying the company of each other. The waiter came back to take the food order, Michael settling on a pasta ragu — you quickly glanced at the price of his item and found your second choice was just below how expensive his was. It made you feel better when you ordered it.

When dinner came, you settled back into small talk, trading conversation about the cooling temperature and the most recent Penguins game. After taking a sip of wine and placing it back on the table, you let your left hand rest next to the glass. Absentmindedly, you brushed your fingers softly against his, his hand beside his own wine glass. Your mind halted, your eyes taking in your hands touching — his fingers were warm beneath yours.

There was a clang! of his fork hitting his plate and your hand quickly retreated from the tabletop back into your lap with a jolt. Your eyes looked up, catching his flustered face, and anxiety invaded your stomach.

You swallowed, “Did you want to talk about your day? Or work, perhaps?”

He blinked at you, before clearing his throat lightly into his fist and grabbing his fork again. His eyebrows furrowed inward, but he was silent as he slowly chewed his food.

“Yeah,” he started, finally meeting your eyes. “I finally got some pesky chores done around the house that I’ve been putting off.”

With each word he spoke, he sounded like he was avoiding anything with substance. You accepted it regardless, mildly frustrated that he had a hard time opening up — but who were you to demand any more from him?

Taking in your raised eyebrow, he sighed, “I’m not good at this, I’m sorry.”

Blinking several times, “Why are you apologizing? You’ve no need to. I’m enjoying our conversation. I’m just ensuring I don’t talk your ear off.”

His lips flicked up, “Definitely not.”

You laughed, “Good.”

After several more bites between them, Michael sipped his wine, “Actually, I would like to be honest.” A long sigh escaped his nose while he avoided eye contact. “My job is…my job is stressful. I used to think I was good at compartmentalizing, but...” He shook his head, shrugging, “I don’t know. It’s been tough lately.”

You waited, watching him.

“You know, most days, it’s just trying to keep our heads above water. Some days there’s hope…others…” He was shaking his head again, taking a careful sip of his wine. His eyes looked far away, his face scrunched together.

Your thoughts flickered back to the other day when he had mentioned losing a patient and your heart ached. He was struggling to carry the weight of all of it, what possibly could you say to make it better?

You sat like that for several minutes in tense silence. You kept overanalyzing what to say, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

He suffered a small smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s been nice to talk to someone outside of that environment, you know? To talk about anything else, or listen to you talk about your days, even when I don’t say anything.”

A tiny smile graced your face, “I’m glad I can do that for you. I’m glad I haven’t been boring you.”

He exhaled, lips turning upwards, “Not at all. I’ve enjoyed our conversations.”

“I have too.”

You held each other’s gaze for a long moment, before the waiter came by to offer dessert. Your gaze lingered on Michael’s face before you glanced down at the dessert menu. You thought perhaps dessert was too much, so you went to say “I think I’m just too full.” but Michael beat you to it.

“Make it two of whatever she wants.” He was grinning again, mood slightly lifted, watching you with an amused glint to his eye.

You raised an eyebrow at him, but did not question it, quickly deciding on one of the options.

Dessert came with coffee, decaf for him, and lighter conversation. As the night wound down, you found you wished the night had been longer, enjoying his company. You wondered if you would be seeing more of him in person after this. You hoped so.

He paid the bill without allowing you to even glance at it, which after a few seconds of thought, you were thankful for. You knew it was not likely to be an outlandish amount, but you were glad to not have a number in your head to overthink.

Getting up from the table, you walked close together, arms brushing until you made the split second decision to grab hold of his arm. To avoid bumping into any tables or other patrons, of course. He had not been expecting it, by the way he glanced at you, but you kept your eyes forward. He didn’t say anything. Once back in the lobby, you loosened your hold, but he did not let you go.

“Let me walk you to your car.”

“Oh, thank you.”

You walked in the direction of your car, anxiety bubbling back up. This was usually the bit where your past dates tried — or succeeded — in kissing you. This isn’t a date this isn’t a date this isn’t a date, echoed loud in your head. Did you hug him? Just say goodbye?

“This is me.” You said awkwardly, stopping in front of your car.

He nodded his head, turning to look at you again.

“I’ll—”

“I—”

You smiled at each other, and you gestured for him to go first.

“This was…nice. Thank you.”

“Thank you, I had a good time.”

He shuffled his feet awkwardly, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Have a good night, Michael.”

“You too.” He said, turning to go, before turning quickly on his feet. “Let me know when you get home safe, yeah?”

Opening your car door, you looked back at him and grinned, “Yeah, I will.”

Offering a final smile before you got into your car, Michael walked in the opposite direction.

The drive home was much better than the drive to the restaurant. You felt warm on the inside, going over the dinner in your head again and again. You smiled the entire drive.

Walking into your apartment, you set your things down before pulling out your phone and pulling up Michael’s contact.

Home safe :)

[ Next ]

want to join the taglist? shoot me a message!

Companionship Taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @cannonindeez @gabsgabsvaz

All Dr. Robby content: @cherriready

that damn dinner scene gave me trouble for some reason — sorry it took awhile!

Also?? Hozier’s Too Sweet is so Companionship coded

#michael robinavitch x reader #michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch x you #michael robinavitch x female reader #michael robinavitch/you #michael robinavitch/reader #the pitt #the pitt x reader #companionship series #asxgard writes #dr robby x reader #dr robby

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riqomi · 2 days ago

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late night convenience ˖ 심재윤

제이크 ˖ 𝑓em!r .. g. fluff. smut. university!au ──── BOOKSHELF (6335) tw: unprotected sex (don’t be silly! wrap your willy), oral m. receiving, reader is kinda bold? kinda rushed.. mentions of drinking! let me know if i missed anything

classes had come to a close, a relief tinged with the knowledge of your upcoming shift at 7-11 that loomed on the horizon. as you walked back to the dorm, the weight of an evening spent at the register settled on your shoulders. it wasn’t the work itself that made you feel so exhausted, but rather the way that time seemed to stretch infinitely, like taffy, when the store was hushed and devoid of customers. after a quick shower to rinse away the day, you slipped into your uniform, the fabric soft and familiar as it clung to your skin. you grabbed your things and headed out, the sky a breathtaking palette of purples and fiery oranges, the sun dipping gracefully behind the campus buildings and casting long, dramatic shadows on the ground. you couldn’t help but pause, wishing you could capture the moment in a jar, something much too lovely to be happening on a day like this.

the shift began as it always did: quiet and predictable, the comforting rustle of snack bags and the soft clinks of bottles the only sounds to break the silence. the bell above the door chimed gently as it swung open, slicing through the stillness, and you glanced up to see jake walk in, a customer whose increasing frequency at the store hadn’t gone unnoticed by you. a cute guy with laid-back charm, he carried an air of ease, like he had nowhere else more important to be, and his warm, inviting smile settled directly on you, a message seemingly meant for your eyes alone.

"hey," he greeted, casually strolling to the counter with his usual bottle of lemonade in hand. "busy day?" he leaned forward slightly, a gesture that felt intimate, like he was letting you in on a secret.

you shrugged, trying to mask the flutter of nerves dancing in your stomach. "you know how it is," you replied, striving to sound nonchalant, as though this kind of attention was nothing new and didn’t set your heart racing in the least.

jake chuckled softly

, the sound warm and genuine, tinged with a touch of affection. he leaned in a little closer, and you could catch a faint whiff of his earthy cologne, something sandalwood and clean. his presence was comforting and engaging, a bubble of connection in the sparse quiet of the store. "well, thanks for keeping this place running," he said, his eyes meeting yours and holding them a moment longer than seemed possible. those extra seconds stretched out, each one making the moment feel more significant than the last and causing your heart to skip an undeniable beat. "i’d be lost without my daily fix," he added, a teasing glint in his eyes that made your cheeks flush with unexpected warmth.

you managed a half-smile, determined to play it cool, even though your mind was already spinning a million miles a minute with implications and possibilities. you watched as jake made his way to the door, his movements leisurely, as if reluctant to leave the glowing sweetness of your banter. he paused there for a moment, turning back for a quick wave that left a trail of hope in its wake. you wondered, with cautious curiosity, if he might really be into you.

as if on cue, the door swung open again, the bell chiming to announce the arrival of a new customer, dragging your thoughts back to reality.

an older man in a worn flannel jacket stepped inside, his eyes scanning the shelves with intent. you nodded at him, trying to shake off the distraction of jake’s lingering presence in the air. the man moved with a practiced efficiency, scooping up instant noodles and a six-pack of beer before making his way to the counter.

"cold out there," he muttered as you rang up his items, his voice gravelly like tires on gravel.

you nodded, offering the kind of polite smile that came with muscle memory after so many shifts. "getting there," you replied, feeling the brief exchange settle around you like an old quilt—familiar and slightly frayed.

the steady tick of the clock was a constant reminder of the time passing, as the hands slowly moved across the face, each minute feeling like an hour. the fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a pale glow on the rows of products lining the shelves. the students who trickled in were a blur of backpack straps and heavy jackets, their conversations bursts of energy that faded quickly past the door.

the evening wore on, and you found yourself watching the clock with mounting anticipation, counting down the minutes until your shift ended. the thought of jake lingered like a pleasant itch in the back of your mind, his smile playing on loop whenever you had a moment to yourself.

it was nearing midnight when the door swung open again, and this time, you were surprised to see it was jake once more. he stepped inside, shaking off the chill and running a hand through his hair as he made a beeline for the counter.

"forgot something?" you teased, trying to keep your voice steady despite the pulse of excitement quickening beneath your skin.

"yeah," he said, his grin widening as he came closer. "thought i'd grab something sweet." there was a playful lilt in his voice, an unspoken suggestion that made your cheeks warm again.

your heart leaped stupidly at the

simple contact, the innocuous touch of his fingers as they brushed yours when he placed the chocolate bar on the counter. you tried to keep your cool, but your eyes betrayed you, flicking up to meet his gaze for a fleeting second before darting away again.

jake seemed content to let the moment linger, his smile softening into something almost gentle. "you know," he started, his voice low and relaxed, "i think this is the most we've talked since i started coming here."

you nodded, tearing the wrapper open as you rang him up. "yeah, it's been a while."

he leaned against the counter, his elbow resting casually beside the register.

"what do you do when you're not here, holed up in this neon-lit sanctuary?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity.

you hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden shift from casual banter to actual personal interest. "well, i'm a student at the university, studying psychology," you admitted, finding yourself returning his smile as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "i'm aiming to be a therapist one day."

jake's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "wow, that's... impressive.

a therapist, huh? that explains why you’re so good at reading people,” jake remarked, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he grinned. you felt a warmth spread through you at the compliment, despite the fact that it was probably just a line he used on everyone.

“thanks,” you said, trying to downplay it. “it’s just a good skill to have in customer service.”

jake chuckled, nodding in agreement. “true. so, which is it? do you enjoy the psychology side, or are you more into the therapy part?”

you leaned against the counter, mirroring his relaxed posture. “both, actually.

i love understanding how people think and what makes us tick. and then, helping them work through their stuff? that’s just the icing on the cake,” you explained, feeling a genuine passion rise within you as you spoke about your future career.

jake nodded slowly, his eyes reflecting a newfound respect. "that's amazing. you must have some interesting stories to tell."

you laughed softly, shrugging. "everyone has their share of stories, don't they? but tell me, what about you? you're a student, too, right? what’s your major?"

jake flashed you a grin, his eyes sparkling.

"yeah, i’m in the business school. everybody says i’m a born salesman, so i figured, why not make a career out of it?" he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "plus, my dad’s a big shot in the corporate world, so there’s some pressure to follow in his footsteps."

you raised an eyebrow, impressed. "wow, that’s big. any particular industry you’re interested in?"

he shrugged. "not really. i’m more into the thrill of the chase, you know? closing a deal, striking a bargain. i guess that’s why i enjoy coming here, too.

it's a chance to practice, in a way," jake admitted, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

you couldn’t help but laugh at his self-awareness. "so, you see me as a potential client? interesting approach to relationship building."

jake’s grin widened, and he feigned a look of hurt. "hey, i never said anything about relationships. i’m just a student of human nature, like you."

you smirked, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms. "yeah, right. you're just here for the free therapy sessions."

jake laughed, the sound warm and inviting.

"guilty as charged." he paused, his eyes scanning your face, as if trying to read your thoughts. "but hey, if you ever need someone to talk to, i'm here, too. not just for the snacks."

you felt a heating sensation creep up your cheeks, despite your best efforts to keep your cool. it was the first time he'd made a move beyond casual conversation, and it sent a flurry of butterflies dancing in your stomach.

"well, i'll keep that in mind," you said, trying to match his playful tone. "you know, i could use a break soon.

maybe grab a coffee or something," you found yourself saying, the words tumbling out before you could properly consider them. jake's eyes lit up at the suggestion, and he nodded enthusiastically.

"i'll take you up on that," he said, his voice laced with a subtle excitement that echoed your own. "there's a cozy little place down the street. they make the best lattes in town."

as you locked up the store, the night air was crisp, carrying a hint of the coming winter. jake offered his arm, and you slipped yours through it, the gesture feeling both natural and thrilling.

as you walked down the street, the cool air nipped at your nose, but the warmth of jake’s side made it bearable. the coffee shop was a cozy hole-in-the-wall, tucked away in a quiet corner of the block, just a short stroll from the 7-11. the glow from the warm lights spilled out onto the sidewalk, casting a welcoming halo.

jake pushed open the door, and a bell chimed softly, announcing your arrival. the aroma of fresh coffee and sweet pastries enveloped you, a comforting hug after a long shift.

you stepped inside, jake following close behind, his body brushing against yours as you squeezed past the tight space. a blush crept up your cheeks, but jake didn’t seem to notice, his attention drawn to the barista instead.

the place was small, with only a handful of tables, each one filled with students huddled together over laptops and cups of coffee. jake glanced around, searching for a spot, and then spotted a small table in the corner that had just been vacated. he gestured for you to take a seat as he went to the counter to order.

as you sat down, you couldn’t help but steal glances at jake, watching as he chatted with the barista. they seemed friendly, almost familiar, and you wondered how often jake came to this place, or if this was just another stop on his route of regular hangouts.

he returned with two steaming cups of coffee, the scent of hazelnut wafting up to greet you.

you sipped your coffee, savoring the smooth flavor. jake sat across from you, his knees brushing yours under the table, his eyes locked on yours.

“so,” he said, a lopsided grin curving his lips. “what do you like to do for fun?”

you shrugged, taking another sip of your coffee. “i don’t really have much time for hobbies, what with work and school, but i enjoy reading in my free time.”

jake’s grin widened. “oh, nice! what kind of books do you like?”

you blinked, caught off guard. no one had ever asked you that before. “well, mostly fiction. i like getting lost in a good story, and i enjoy learning new things, too.”

he leaned forward, his elbows on the table, and his gaze locked intently on yours. “cool. maybe i can give you some recommendations sometime.”

the moment stretched out, and you felt a flutter in your chest. this was the first time you’d really talked to jake outside of the store, and there was an undeniable chemistry between you.

you finished your drinks, lingering over the last drops of coffee, reluctant to leave the warm comfort of the cafe. jake seemed to understand, and he didn’t rush to end the night.

as you left the cafe, he turned to you, his eyes sparkling in the streetlight.

“want to grab a drink sometime? maybe we could even play some darts?” he suggested, his voice light and inviting.

you nodded, feeling a little like you were walking on air. “sounds like fun. i’d like that.”

he grinned, his fingers brushing yours as he handed you his phone. “give me your number.”

you did, your heart skipping a beat as you heard him dial your number, and then his phone ringing, confirming it was saved correctly.

“thanks for the coffee,” he said, his gaze holding yours as he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on your cheek. “i’ll see you around.”

with that, he turned and walked off into the night, leaving you to wonder if you’d just imagined the entire thing. but then your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out to see a text from an unknown number.

hey. just making sure i had the right number, jake texted, a smiley face following his words.

you smiled, feeling a lightness in your chest.

yeah. got it right on the first try :)) you replied.

his response was immediate, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was waiting by his phone.

hey, so that drink and darts thing. would you be free this week?

your pulse quickened at the thought of seeing jake again, so soon.

yeah, what day did you have in mind? you replied, trying to keep it casual.

how about friday? we could grab drinks at that dive bar down the street and then head to the game room for some friendly competition

you hesitated, knowing that you had a shift on saturday and usually preferred to keep fridays free to unwind.

i work on saturday, so i probably should head back early. but i can meet you there around 7? you texted.

there was a short pause before his response came through.

yeah, that works for me. see you at 7

you slipped your phone back into your pocket and headed home, your mind buzzing with thoughts of jake.

you wondered what his room would look like, if he’d have anything hanging on the walls, or just piles of books and clothes everywhere.

when friday finally rolled around, you found yourself practically bouncing with excitement. you’d thought of jake all week, your mind replaying their last encounter over and over again, as you imagined the two of you laughing and having a good time.

you got ready quickly, slipping on a pair of tight jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. you pulled your hair back in a simple ponytail and applied some lip gloss, and that was it.

jake was waiting for you by the door when you arrived, his face breaking into a smile as he spotted you. he had on a plain black shirt and jeans, his hair mussed in a way that was both effortlessly cool and ridiculously sexy.

“hey,” he greeted you, his voice warm and welcoming. he held the door open and let you enter before him.

the bar was already bustling with people, the air thick with the smell of beer. jake found a table for you near the window, and you took a seat as he headed to the bar.

he returned with two beers and handed one to you. “so, what’s new with you?” he asked.

you shrugged, taking a sip. “nothing much. just trying to survive the semester.”

he laughed. “yeah, i know the feeling.” he glanced at you, his eyes warm and inviting. “i was thinking, maybe we could make a bet on the game tonight?”

you raised an eyebrow. “a bet? what kind of bet?”

he shrugged. “whatever you want. if you win, you pick it. and if i win, i get to pick.”

you hesitated for a second, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. but something in his eyes made you trust him.

“okay,” you agreed. “let’s make a bet. if i win, i pick, and if you win, you do.”

he grinned and held out his hand. “alright, then. let’s shake on it.”

you clasped his hand, feeling a jolt of electricity run through you as their palms touched.

“let’s do this,” he said, his voice husky and low.

you followed him to the game room, your heart beating fast as you entered the dimly lit space. there was only one other pair in there, and they glanced up briefly before returning their attention to the board.

jake paid for your game and handed you three darts each. you set your beer down on the narrow ledge and took aim.

the game was intense, both of you competing for every point. you could feel jake’s eyes on you with every throw, and you knew he was doing the same, trying to intimidate you into messing up.

but you refused to let him get in your head. you focused on your breathing, imagining the dart flying true and hitting the target dead center.

in the end, it was neck and neck, and you were up last. you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the final throw.

your first dart hit the double 20, earning a small cheer from jake. your second hit the single 18, and your third landed on the triple 19.

you turned around to see jake staring at the board, a slow smile spreading across his face. “well done,” he said. “you won.”

you grinned, feeling a thrill of excitement. “thanks. i guess i get to pick the prize now.”

he nodded. “you do.”

you took a sip of your beer, feeling more relaxed now that the game was over. “hm. let me think on it for a second,” you teased, tapping your lip thoughtfully.

jake rolled his eyes, laughing. “hey, be nice. i’m trying to be gracious in defeat here.”

you snorted, nearly choking on your drink. “sure you are.”

he shot you a mock-glare, and you laughed. “okay, okay. so, what’s my prize?”

you paused for a moment before answering. “i want to see where you live.”

his eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly recovered, a sly grin spreading across his lips. “oh? that’s what you want?”

you nodded. “yeah. i’m curious, so show me.”

he reached out and took your hand, tugging you towards the door. “alright. but don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

you followed him out of the bar and down the street to his apartment building. it wasn’t far, just a few blocks away, and you walked in comfortable silence, his fingers intertwined with yours.

he led you upstairs to the third floor and unlocked his door with a flourish. you stepped inside, your eyes adjusting slowly to the dim light.

the first thing you noticed was how neat everything was. there were no dirty dishes piled in the sink, no clothes strewn across the floor, and no dust bunnies hiding under the furniture.

you walked through the living room into the kitchen, where there was a small table set up with two chairs. jake gestured to one of them. “have a seat,” he said.

you obeyed, taking a seat and looking around. there was a bookshelf against one wall, filled with textbooks and a few novels. you scanned the titles, noting how many of them were from psychology and business classes.

you stood up and walked over to the bookshelf. “mind if i take a look?”

he shook his head. “not at all.”

you scanned the shelves again, running your fingers over the spines. jake watched you from behind, his eyes never leaving yours.

“i had no idea you were such a big reader,” you remarked, turning to face him.

he shrugged. “i like learning new things.”

you nodded. “me, too.” you picked out a book on social psychology and flipped through the pages. there were notes in the margins and sections highlighted, and you couldn’t resist asking. “did you like this one?”

“yeah, it was interesting,” jake said. “i enjoyed it a lot.”

you kept flipping, finding a section on attachment styles and intimacy. “oh, here’s something about relationships,” you said. “maybe you can give me a rundown.”

jake walked over to where you stood and peered over your shoulder. his body was warm against yours, and you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. you shivered despite yourself, the hairs standing up on end.

“looks interesting,” he murmured, his hand brushing yours as he reached for the book.

you let him take it, and then stepped back, giving him some space.

he flipped through the pages, stopping at the section on intimate relationships. “so, it says here that intimacy is a balance of independence and closeness.” he read through the passage again, his brow furrowed in concentration. “yeah, that makes sense. too much independence and it gets cold. too much closeness and it gets stifling.”

you nodded, intrigued despite yourself. “yeah, exactly.”

he turned to look at you. “want to find out what your attachment style is?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

you hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should be sharing something so personal with him. but then you looked into his eyes and saw the genuine interest there, and you decided to take a chance.

“sure,” you agreed.

he closed the book and set it on the counter. “come here,” he said.

you drifted over to him, each step charged with anticipation as your skin brushed softly against his. he reached out with deliberate tenderness, drawing you into a warm, enveloping embrace, his arms cocooning you as his lips descended slowly onto yours. the kiss blossomed into a languid, deep exploration—his tongue gliding slowly against yours like a whispered secret. a muffled moan escaped your lips, echoing softly against his as you felt his smile deepen with delight.

breaking away for a brief, suspended moment, his breathing came in ragged gasps. “i knew it,” he murmured, his voice low and knowing. dazed, you blinked in wonder. “knew what?” you asked, your tone a mixture of curiosity and lingering enchantment. his eyes danced with quiet amusement as he offered an explanation that mingled intimacy with insight. “that you have an anxious-preoccupied attachment style,” he divulged softly, as if sharing a delicate truth.

raising an eyebrow in both surprise and self-conscious amusement, you let your cheeks tingle with a blush. “is that a bad thing?” you inquired, your voice gentle yet edged with uncertainty. he shook his head, his smile softening into reassurance. “not at all. it means you feel deeply and passionately, even if you sometimes need extra comfort.” a small shrug and a sheepish smile later, you accepted his words, feeling an unexpected connection.

cradling your face tenderly in his hands, his gaze was earnest and compassionate. “hey. i’m here, alright? don’t worry,” he assured, his voice a soothing balm that sent a warm glow spreading through your chest. you melted into his embrace, letting the safety of his arms calm all lingering doubts.

after a pause heavy with unspoken promises, he leaned in again and asked, “do you want to know my attachment style?” your curiosity sparkled in your eyes as you nodded. with a grin that radiated confidence, he said, “i’m secure. i cherish my independence but i love the closeness we share.” you smiled back, the connection between you deepening palpably as his grin widened further. leaning close once more, he whispered against your lips, “let me show you,” before planting another deep, exploratory kiss upon you.

this kiss was a slow, sumptuous symphony: his tongue danced with yours, gracefully exploring every nuance of your mouth in a sensual ballet. the air between you pulsed with undeniable chemistry and tension as he gently guided you toward the bedroom, nudging the door open with a soft push of his foot. once inside, he closed the door with a soft click that resonated like a prelude to intimacy.

with an air of casual abandon, he removed your shirt, letting it tumble aside as if it were an unnecessary layer of inhibition. in turn, he shed his own top, the fabric falling softly to the floor. the room filled with the heady musk of his cologne—a scent that mingled with the subtle perfume of desire, each heartbeat echoing in the aromatic haze. your eyes were irresistibly drawn to his chiseled abs, each defined curve and contour reminiscent of a well-mapped terrain carved by passion. your fingertips trailed along his skin, feeling the velvety warmth that invited exploration.

“glad you like what you see,” he teased, a playful glimmer in his eyes as they crinkled at the corners. a rush of arousal set your pulse racing like a wild creature unleashed. “oh, shut up,” you whispered huskily, your voice thick with desire. his low, throaty laugh vibrated through your entire being before he effortlessly pulled you down onto the bed. he rolled you gently, positioning himself above you, his presence commanding yet tender.

his mouth returned to yours, soft and insistent, as he trailed tender kisses along your face and neck. you tangled your fingers through his hair, drawing him even closer as his hips moved in a slow, mesmerizing rhythm against yours. “i want you,” he breathed, each word carried on the slow grind of passion. a deep moan escaped you as anticipation mingled with desire, your body responding to his every subtle cue. “then take me,” you whispered back, your voice a fragile echo against your pounding heart.

a shudder of pleasure ran through him before he smoothly rolled off the bed. rising with an effortless fluidity, he shed his pants and boxers in one smooth motion, revealing a thick, pulsating cock that seemed almost alive with desire. every inch of him was charged with raw magnetism—its tip glistening with a bead of precum that shone like a small beacon of longing. you stared in awe, your mouth watering at the display of virility; it was long, thick, and radiated an undeniable presence that filled the room with heated energy. the overwhelming surge of desire nearly swallowed you whole.

“come here,” you murmured, your voice a near-whisper of longing. moving back to the bed, he settled beside you with a confident, yet tender air. you reached out eagerly, enveloping his hardness with your hand. it was smooth and warm under your touch, every caress drawing a gasp from him as your fingers applied a slow, deliberate stroke. “fuck. that feels so good,” he breathed out, his eyes closing as ecstatic pleasure washed over him.

a smile played upon your lips as you ran your thumb gently along the tip, eliciting a shudder from him. bending forward, you allowed your mouth to wrap around him, taking him in with a fervor that mirrored his own. his moans grew deeper, his hair becoming a playground for your fingers as you took him deeper in a slow, rhythmic dance of pleasure. he guided your movements, his fingers tightening in your hair as he lost himself in the intoxicating sensation of your devoted ministrations. every movement was deliberate, every caress an illustration of mutual desire, until you took him right to the back of your throat. with a controlled swallow, you drew him even closer, and as he shuddered in response, you pulled back just enough for him to revel in the sight of you.

his dark, smoldering eyes met yours as he growled, “take off your pants,” his voice a husky command thick with need. yielding to his desire, you shed your jeans with a graceful shimmy, casting them aside as the room’s light softened into a sultry shadow. now bare and unguarded, your vulnerability only heightened your allure, your exposed skin a canvas for his longing.

he reached out, his hand warm around your wrist as he pulled you nearer for another fierce, passionate kiss. his lips collided with yours in a desperate melding, a fiery exploration that seemed to devour every lingering hesitation. his tongue danced once more against yours in a slow, sensual ballet, reigniting the tension between you both. the kiss deepened, the rhythm guided by mutual hunger until, with a gentle but insistent motion, he backed you onto the bed and pressed you against the soft mattress.

his embrace enveloped you as his body claimed the space above you, and his mouth resumed its tender exploration, trailing heated kisses along your face and neck. each touch, each soft chained movement of his hips, amplified your desire. “i want you,” he murmured again, his words punctuating the soft moans that filled the charged air. “then take me,” you whispered back, barely audible over the racing of your heart.

the passion surged anew as he shifted, his body quivering with anticipation. rising with fluid grace, he repeated the ritual of shedding his clothes, revealing that same thick, throbbing member—an embodiment of raw desire punctuated by its glistening tip. the sight of him stoked the flames of your longing until a familiar, overwhelming craving began to consume you.

“come here,” you breathed once more. he returned to your side, settling beside you with an air of confident intimacy. you reached out instinctively, capturing him in your hand with a warmth and smoothness that sent shivers of pleasure through him. your slow, deliberate strokes elicited a gasp of satisfaction from him. “fuck. that feels incredible,” he murmured, eyes closing in raptured delight. you smiled in response, your thumb caressing his sensitive tip as his hips jerked in ecstatic motion. leaning forward, you let your mouth envelop him again in a fervent, rhythmic dance, his moans intensifying as your devoted attention drew him deeper into waves of pleasure. your movements were guided by instinct, drawing him right to the depths of your desire. as he shuddered in ecstatic release, you pulled back slightly, allowing that shining beacon of desire to glimpse the light.

meeting his dark, desirous gaze, he growled softly, “take off your pants,” his voice a husky plea that resonated with the raw urgency of the moment. with graceful surrender, you slipped out of your jeans, casting them aside into the shadows as anticipation thickened the air. naked and completely exposed, every inch of your skin pulsed with desire and vulnerability—a perfect invitation.

he reached for your wrist once more, drawing you in with a possessive strength as his lips claimed yours in a desperate, burning kiss. his tongue reached out in a slow, deliberate dance, each touch fanning the flames of longing. the soft pressure of his cock against your thigh served as a constant, insistent reminder of the passion simmering between you. in that fervid embrace, cloaked by the darkness of the room and the intensity of shared desire, every brush, every kiss, every sigh wove an intricate tapestry of intimacy where nothing existed but the two of you, lost in the profound language of passion.

his hands moved with a tender ferocity, charting paths of pleasure along your waist and hips. all hesitations melted away in the white-hot blaze of longing. he positioned himself above you, his cock brushing teasingly against your bare skin, each contact an electric promise.

“now,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble that echoed through you. your breath caught as he pushed into you with a measured, deliberate motion, filling you completely. a moan escaped your lips—a sound of pure surrender—as he began his slow, steady rhythm. you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer still, each thrust a testament to the heat building between you.

the bed creaked beneath the weight of your passion, a symphony of desperate desires finding their crescendo. his pace quickened, urgency mounting as he drove deeper and faster with every movement. each thrust brought with it a spark that spread wildfires through your body until you were burning up in an inferno of ecstasy.

his name tumbled from your lips, a breathless chant as he pushed you both toward the edge. that final thrust—a perfect mix of force and tenderness—sent you spiraling into a release so intense it dissolved you.

“fuck,” he gasped, shuddering violently as he came. his body arched, and the last of his control slipped away with a groan that seemed to reverberate through the very air around you. the warmth of his release spilled inside you, sending aftershocks rippling through your limbs.

the heat of the moment lingered like an electric charge, crackling in the silent aftermath. he collapsed beside you, chest heaving, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he pulled you against him. you nestled into the crook of his arm, feeling utterly weightless and completely consumed by an all-encompassing warmth.

your heartbeats gradually slowed from their frantic rhythm, syncing in a harmonious thrum that filled the quiet room. he

brushed the hair from your face, his eyes still dark with the afterglow of desire. “you’re amazing,” he murmured, and the sincerity in his voice wrapped around you like a gentle caress.

a smile curved on your lips as you nuzzled closer, feeling his skin—a mix of soft and firm—against yours. the room was thick with the familiar scent of spent passion and sweat, a perfume that made you feel raw and alive.

“we’re amazing,” you replied softly, a playful tease brightening your words. your fingers traced lazy patterns against his chest, reveling in the simple connection of touch. you let out a small, contented sigh as you felt him hardening again against your leg, the insatiable need between you both beginning its pleasant burn once more.

with a fluid motion, he rolled you onto your back again, his mouth finding yours in another deep, claiming kiss that reignited all your senses. his body pressed down on you,

heavy with the full weight of his desire, and you arched up to meet him in an instinctive, heated response. every inch of you reached for him, needing him closer, deeper, as his hips settled against yours in a perfect fit.

the urgency of the second wave pulsed through you both, immediate and insistent. this time it was frantic and raw—a desperate need that had no patience for tenderness or restraint. his rhythm was fierce and demanding from the start, as though he intended to consume you entirely.

your moans intermingled breathlessly with his, filling the air in a wild chorus of primal longing. each thrust sent sparks through you until the sensation grew so intense it bordered on unbearable pleasure. your nails dug into his back, urging him on as you raced together toward a shared oblivion.

barely audible above your cries, he whispered your name—an invocation that undid you completely. with one final surge, he plunged into you and everything exploded into white-hot

heat. the world vanished, leaving only the two of you, suspended in an endless instant of ecstasy.

he spilled into you with a shuddering moan that merged with your own, and you felt each pulse as it echoed through you in waves, binding you together in its molten wake. you clung to him, breathless and shaking, as reality gradually returned, every nerve still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

his weight settled against you, grounding you as you both floated back to earth. you breathed him in—sweat and desire mingling into something beautifully intoxicating—and a deep sense of satisfaction unfurled within you.

“wow,” he gasped finally, his voice thick with wonderment and exhaustion. he shifted slightly, wrapping an arm around you as his body relaxed into a warm sprawl beside yours. you melted into the embrace, feeling utterly spent yet perfectly content, his heart still pounding a chaotic rhythm against your side.

you laughed softly, a sound of pure, unguarded joy. “i hope your neighbors like symphonies,” you quipped, breathless and teasing as your fingers resumed their gentle exploration of his skin.

he chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated pleasingly through you. “they’ll be jealous,” he replied, leaning in to kiss the curve of your neck with surprising tenderness.

you basked in the moment, the world outside fading into insignificance against the magnetism of his presence. exhaustion and exhilaration mingled within you, leaving you pleasantly lightheaded and blissfully sated.

“stay,” he murmured into your ear, an invitation laden with more than just the promise of another night together. the word hung in the air—a fragile thing that threatened to dissipate if you moved too quickly.

you hesitated for just a heartbeat before nodding against him, feeling his hold tighten slightly as though he feared you might slip away. “i’ll stay,” you said softly.

omd, this is the longest fic i've ever written. not the best work of mine it was lil rushed lawl. but hope u guys liked it either way!! please like and reblog <33 tags: @juicygirl4life

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minh907 · 3 days ago

Text

Lost Spirit.

Sung Jinwoo x Ghost Reader

« Chapter 2

"I'll be gone for 2-3 days."

One day, Jinwoo suddenly came and told you.

You were lying on a tree, hanging upside down. "Hey, where are you going?"

"I have my own business."

"Pfft, are you bored with me and looking for someone else?"

Jinwoo looked helpless "What nonsense are you talking about..."

He tried to touch you, but then his hand passed through you. That's right...you're a spirit.

Jinwoo felt a little disappointed. After so many days of interacting with you, he felt like he had some feelings for you.

You were carefree and loved life, even when you were dead and trapped here, you were still smiling. To Jinwoo, your presence was like a turning point in his life, bringing a little light to his dark heart.

He looked down at his hands, his eyes darkening and clenching them. He would find a way to help you, he promised.

Before you could see his gloomy eyes, he lifted his head and smiled gently at you. "Don't worry, I'll try to come back as soon as possible. Don't miss me too much."

You pouted, "Who would miss you.."

He chuckled and left.

You looked at his back, feeling a little disappointed. You hope he's telling the truth, You hope he won't leave you here alone.

You like him. Although this feeling came a little too quickly, you really like him. Actually, you don't hope for much, you're dead, and he's still alive.

You know that one day, you will disappear and Jinwoo will also fall in love with someone else.

But at least, right now you want to be a little selfish, you don't hope Jinwoo to love anyone now, at least until you leave this world completely.

Please...

________________________________________

[Qualified to receive Class selection quest] [ Do you want to accept? ] [ Yes/No ]

'The time has come...it's time for me to change my job.'

Jinwoo took a deep breath to calm his heart and entered the dungeon 'Wait for me, Y/N'

___________________________________________

The first day without Jinwoo, everything seemed quieter than ever. You were still lying on the same tree branch, swinging your legs aimlessly in the air, but the feeling of emptiness kept clinging to you. No one talked to you, no one suddenly called your name or teased you for your strange habits.

You told yourself it was just a few days, it would pass quickly. But somehow, time felt frighteningly slow.

You climbed, then lay down, then climbed again. A soul like you didn’t need to sleep, nor eat, but right now, you felt hungry… not hungry for food, but because of Jinwoo’s presence.

You sat on the tree branch, hugging your knees, your eyes dreamily looking into the distance. Jinwoo would really come back, right? You trusted him, but you couldn’t help but worry. What if he was in danger? What if he forgot about you?

You smiled faintly. What an idiot. Just a soul, what right do you have to expect? But no matter how many times you remind yourself, you still can’t stop this dead heart from aching.

You should have gotten used to being alone long ago, but Jinwoo has broken the silence in your life since you got stuck here. You miss him.

You just hope, Jinwoo will come back soon. Just one more time, hear his voice calling your name, see those gentle eyes looking at you… Just that, is enough.

____________________________

The knight aimed his knee at Jinwoo.

"It's too fast..."

But Jinwoo's speed was not ordinary. He leaned back almost 90° to avoid Igris's attack. He quickly regained his balance and turned his gaze towards the Boss. Unlike the knights who lost their momentum after swinging their swords, Igris immediately turned back after the attack.

Koong!

There was no time to admire his opponent. Jinwoo quickly rushed forward and kicked Igris in the head before he could turn back. But, even without turning back, Igris still swung his arm accurately.

Bang!

Jinwoo's right leg was easily blocked by Igris.

'Impossible...'

Jinwoo was extremely surprised. While Jinwoo's foot had not yet touched the ground, Igris' fist flew straight towards him.

Whoosh!

Jinwoo reflexively raised his hands to block the blow, but he couldn’t block the impact.

Bang!

The punch went through his armor, and he felt like he was thrown into the air.

'What…'

Jinwoo exclaimed in surprise, but then he groaned. Igris was right in front of Jinwoo. Before he could react, Jinwoo's face was greeted by Igris's left fist.

Smash!

Jinwoo fell to the ground and rolled on the floor.

Tiiiiiiiiiing-

Jinwoo stood up with his ears ringing. He shook his head a few times and the ringing subsided. However, there was a bigger problem. Through his blurry vision, Jinwoo saw Igris walking towards him.

Step-step-

Jinwoo opened his eyes wide and put strength into his legs. Igris stopped an arm's length in front of Jinwoo. The blows were exchanged between the two opponents. Igris did not have to spend much effort to avoid Jinwoo's attacks. The Knight caught Jinwoo's punch and counterattacked.

Bam!

Igris tilted his head slightly, Jinwoo's punch grazed. Even before Jinwoo could pull his hand back, Igris counterattacked at a dizzying speed.

Pow!

Jinwoo's body swayed.

Smash!

This time, Igris took a step back.

Bang!

Igris' fist slammed straight into Jinwoo's stomach, causing him to fall to his knees.

"Cough!"

Blood flowed from Jinwoo's mouth.

'Physical damage reduction doesn't work in this situation...'

Jinwoo's physical damage reduction was 30%. But Igris's attacks were like hammers hitting people. Furthermore, Jinwoo's punches had no effect. The exchange of blows, to put it nicely, the blows were all one-sided.

Smash!

With trembling legs, Jinwoo finally knelt down. He tried to stand up again but his legs had lost all feeling.

Thud!

"Grrl…"

Igris stood in front of Jinwoo and blocked his attacks. The Knight stared at him.

'…?'

The crimson armor ignored Jinwoo's tired gaze, Igris reached out for the sword in the distance. The sword flew through the air and landed in the Knight's hand. Jinwoo realized what Igris was planning to do.

'Is he going to kill me?'

As expected of the Knight Corps Captain. Seeing that Jinwoo was no longer struggling, Igris was about to swing his hand to finish him off. The blade aimed straight at Jinwoo's neck.

But Jinwoo had no intention of giving up so easily.

Slash-

Jinwoo's left hand raised and blocked the slashing blade.

Keng!

The sound of metal clashing was deafening. The glove that Jinwoo had picked up before entering had saved his life.

'…!'

Jinwoo noticed Igris's surprise and continued to throw a punch with his right hand. As expected, Igris showed no signs of avoiding the attack.

'You'll wait to counterattack, right?'

That was the Knight's calculation, but there was one thing that was not in his calculations.

'Casaka's Poison Fang!' (Is this name right? :V?)

Shooo-

In a split second, the fist that flew towards Igris's face appeared a dagger. Jinwoo aimed the dagger at the Knight's eye.

Plop!

____________

[ Your Class is Necromancer! ] [ Do you want to accept the Class? ]

_____________

"Arise!"

[ You have successfully extracted the shadow! ]

_________________________________

A familiar figure walked towards you, and you were glad to see who it was.

But as he got closer, you froze.

Something was wrong.

He seemed different.

There was something in his shadow, and it was staring at you.

"I'm back, Y/N"

________________________

To be continue.

________________________

Chapter 4 »

tag: @weaponxgames here ❤

#sung jinwoo #jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jinwoo x reader #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x y/n #sung jinwoo x you

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eicsferrari · 5 hours ago

Text

so my darling - cl16 smau

requested: yes♡

face claim: nailea devora & other pinterest pictures

a/n: i LOVED this concept and i think this is my favorite au i've done so far. tysm for the request<3 also idk and i will never learn the difference between in/on/at, i just vibe it bc i don't care

masterlist

જ ♡ જ

Then

charlesleclerc beach forever⛱️

tagged yn

♡liked by arthur_leclerc & others

yn shell yeah! seas the day

charlesleclerc my god your puns are terrible

yn shut up😔 u secretly like them

charlesleclerc if that's what you need to believe...

arthur_leclerc without me? i sea how it is

charlesleclerc DON'T ENCOURAGE HER

yn YES ARTHUR WELCOME TO THE PUN CLUB we get together every thursday🤝🏼

pascale.leclerc.355 ❤️ hope you had fun! ♡liked by author & yn

જ ♡ જ

Now

📍london

yn dump of a great weeekend

♡liked by bestfriend & others

bestfriend prettiest girl😍

yn youuu

user1 new music when???

user2 i miss seeing charles in the comment section

user3 it's been 3 years move on🙄

arthur_leclerc bet the england rain makes you miss home ♡liked by author

yn i always miss home❤️

user4 i don't understand what happened between charles and her but it cannot be that bad if arthur and her are still friends

user5 i agree but idk how close they still are. they comment on each other posts but we never saw them together again

જ ♡ જ

Then

yn can't believe this kid is going to be a f1 driver. charles, my best friend, the most important person in my life: i'm so incredibly proud of you. you deserve this more than anyone. whatever happens, whatever you do, i hope you know you'll always have me❤️

♡liked by pascale.leclerc.355 & others

charlesleclerc i love you

yn i love you more

pascale.leclerc.355 i always adored that picture of you two!

yn me too <3

arthur_leclerc you made him cry

yn he's not special i've Been crying

જ ♡ જ

Now

જ ♡ જ

Then

yn he won me a plushie :)

♡liked by charlesleclerc & others

charlesleclerc two plushies*

yn liar you said you wanted to keep the big one

charlesleclerc well in my defense it's ferrari red, call it a manifestation tactic

arthur_leclerc only yn could convince you to do karaoke

charlesleclerc it's not fair! she said "bet you won't do it" so my competitive ass had to

yn nooo don't spill my secret way to make you do everything i want

arthur_leclerc acting like he doesn't do anything you want regardless🙄

જ ♡ જ

Now

yn posted a story

💽scott street - phoebe bridgers

↪bestfriend replied to your story: good luck🤞🏼

જ ♡ જ

yn bday boyyyyy!! cheers to pour decisions

♡liked by arthur_leclerc & others

arthur_leclerc last night was so much fun!! thank you for coming

yn always❤️ how's your head?

arthur_leclerc it hurts. i think the tequila was too much

yn you should've drawn the lime!

arthur_leclerc i-

user6 charles and yn were at the same place, this is not a drill. i repeat, charles and yn at the same place!

bestfriend hot pics but text me!

yn better yet come over

user7 let us in, share the convo with the chat🙏🏼

જ ♡ જ

yn posted a story

💽best friend - conan grey

જ ♡ જ

charlesleclerc life has been good lately

♡liked by pierregasly & others

user8 is that yn or am i going insane???

user9 you might be onto something

yn was the boat on sail?

charlesleclerc don't

yn you missed my puns admit it

charlesleclerc i missed all of you

user10 i waited years for this😭

જ ♡ જ

yn don't mind me, just (tea)sing

♡liked by charlesleclerc & others

user11 THAT'S LEO

user12 charles in the likes war is overrrrr

scuderiaferrari that jacket🔥 ♡liked by the author

yn thank you admin, i've been saving it for a special ocassion

user13 this better mean we are getting yn back on that paddock 🙏🏼

charlesleclerc red looks good on you❤️

user14 he is flirting, right? or am i delusional?

જ ♡ જ

yn cowboy boots give a kick to any outfit🤠🏆

texas u were fun. ferrari 1-2❤️

tagged charlesleclerc

carlossainz55 perfect weekend, forza ferrarri!

yn congrats on p2!! just two chili guys on the podium

carlossainz55 houston, we have a pun!

charlesleclerc it's contagious, it's a disease at this point

iamrebeccad beautiful girl😍

yn i love youuu let's get coffee soon

charlesleclerc it was special having you there<3

yn can't believe i was there to see you win!! i sobbed the entire time

yn problem is now you set the bar too high. i expect you to win every time i go to see you

charlesleclerc i'll do my best😉 anything to impress you

user15 yes he is flirting

જ ♡ જ

arthur_leclerc posted a story

જ ♡ જ

yn "so my darling" out now

comments have been disabled

જ ♡ જ

charlesleclerc remember i'll always love you

♡liked by yn & others

bestfriend ok leclerc guess i will share the best friend title🙄🙄

charlesleclerc i was here first ?

bestfriend i already said i agreed to share it don't push your luck and take what you can

arthur_leclerc fucking finally! it only took you like twenty years

yn always and forever❤️

charlesleclerc ❤️

જ ♡ જ

taglist: @justaf1girl @anamiad00msday @readtoooomuch @2bormaybenot

#f1 smau #formula 1 smau #charles leclerc smau #cl16 smau #f1 fic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #cl16 x reader #cl16 x yn #cl16 au #cl16 fic #cl16 fanfic #childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers

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wintrwinchestr · 2 days ago

Text

strangers | part 3

summary: when nothing comes of the frantic call for help you'd made just before joel had attempted to take your life, you realize that he had been telling you the truth—nobody cares about you, and nobody is coming for you. the fear of being forgotten becomes so overwhelming, you decide to go against your better judgement in a last-ditch effort to make sure that somebody knows you're still here. what you hadn't anticipated, is that you'd be putting more than just your own life in danger by doing so.

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, talk of death/murder and blood, mommy issues, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, introduction of female original character, reader's skintone shows bruises, reader has at least shoulder-length hair, reader's hair texture can be put into ponytails, reader has pubic hair, groping, fingering, kissing, fingersucking (both reader and joel), mild blood kink, domination and control that is essentially abuse, development of stockholm syndrome, pet names (baby, darlin', babydoll, sweetheart), story inspired by "preacher's daughter" by ethel cain, vaguely set in the 70s, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 12.9k

a/n: heyyy... how y'all doin... it's been a while. i am very excited to share the next part of this story, written by some miraculous feat of perseverance. if you're still here, thank you for sticking around. i love joel and babydoll so so much and they have never left my heart or my mind, even when i was taking a break from them. i thought that putting a hard stop to my hobbies while i was having a difficult time at work was a good coping mechanism, but i realized last month that i can't let them take my creativity away from me no matter how hard they try. thank you @chippedowlmug and @polaroidpascal for always yapping with me and keeping their story alive even when i didn't have it in me to write it all down. there is much more of them still to come, thank you for being here <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 4

You can’t sleep.

Each time the air conditioning kicks on, or the pipes let out a rattling groan, or the mattress springs creak underneath Joel’s weight, your eyes snap open again. Each time you hope to awaken to the sight of blue and red lights streaming in through the crooked blinds, and each time you’re disappointed. Your heart rate hasn’t been able to settle into any kind of steady rhythm all night, the muscle beating erratically every time you hear so much as a cricket chirp or a gust of wind outside. You could’ve sworn at one point you had heard distant footsteps crunching through the gravel parking lot, and you’d held your breath as you imagined they belonged to a police officer coming to your rescue, sent by the woman who had picked up your call for help. Any minute now the footsteps would reach your room, and you’d hear fists pounding on the door as they demanded entry.

That minute had turned into five, then ten, and then fifteen, before the sound had repeated itself, and you’d realized it was just some nocturnal critter rustling around in the trash can outside the door.

It’s been hours now since you’d made your futile little escape attempt, since you’d uttered all of about four words to the woman on the other end of the line before Joel had pounced on you like an animal, ripped the phone out of your hand, and dragged you back into his lair.

…Someone had picked up, hadn’t they? Your memory is failing you now. Maybe the line was dead, maybe you hadn’t inserted enough coins for the call to go through, maybe you had only wanted there to be somebody out there who cared, and you had just hallucinated the woman’s tinny voice in your terrified state.

What you can be sure you hadn’t hallucinated, however, is the contents of the box you wish you had never pulled out from underneath the bench seat. You can’t escape the graphic memories of the polaroids that project themselves onto the backs of your eyelids each time they dare to close, jolting you back into reality the second your consciousness begins to slip away. You can’t help but think about how Joel had made you lay perfectly still for him while he forced himself inside of you, and you taste bile in the back of your throat as you wonder if he had ever really violated any of the other girls that way, or if it was just some sick fantasy.

You’re almost certain of what the answer is, but you try to swallow it down along with the sourness in your mouth.

You think about how scared you were, how scared you are, and how scared they must have been in their final moments, knowing there was nothing they could do anymore except submit themselves to his violence and hope he would at least make it quick. Eighteen or so years’ worth of dreams and desires and ambitions dashed in a single night, snuffed out in an instant as he reduced their bodies to nothing more than something limp and pliant for him to play with. You think about Ruby, and try to blink away the sudden vision of sunken glassy eyes and blonde ringlets covered in dirt and blood, skin pale and body decaying in a forgotten patch of land off the side of the road somewhere. You hope if he had ever spared even one of them from his grotesque defilement, that it was her.

You’re crying, you realize, when you feel a hot tear pooling in the shell of your ear, and you try to suppress your shuddering sobs as the guilt begins to feel all-consuming. How come you’re still alive to feel Joel’s hot breath raise the hairs on the back of your neck, and yet there’s a fucking shoebox full of dozens and dozens of girls who’d been brutalized and violated and discarded like trash? What makes you so fucking special? Being lost and naive and stupid enough to play into his little game without knowing what the cost would be if you’d tried to back out, to say that you’d changed your mind because he was too rough and controlling and it wasn’t fun anymore, like the rest of them probably had? It isn’t fair that you get to escape their fates just because you were the only one fucked up enough to enjoy the game, at least while it had lasted.

You’re going to wake him up with all your sniffling and shivering if you don’t get yourself under control somehow. You need to breathe. You need to get some air. Feel the breeze on your face and look up at the stars and calm yourself down enough to try and get at least a couple hours of sleep tonight. Lord knows you’ll probably need them tomorrow.

Although Joel had fallen asleep with his arm locked tight around your chest, it rests across his own now, rising and falling slowly with his breathing. He seems to be in true, deep sleep, having laid perfectly still for the past couple of hours save for the bear-like snorts he lets out every once in a while. Must have really worn himself out last night, you think to yourself, the tone of the voice in your head dripping with venom.

You wait another couple of minutes for the AC unit to turn back on, and use its obnoxious metallic rattling to cover the sound of you peeling back the thin sheet and musty comforter. You do so carefully, in as slow and as delicate movements you can manage in your current state, practically placing your feet on the carpet one toe at a time before pushing yourself up to a standing position. Joel makes some kind of grumbling cough just as you finish straightening out your spine, and it startles a gasp from you. You cover your mouth quickly and turn back to face him with wide eyes, afraid that you’ll find his own darkened ones staring back at you.

They’re still closed, to your immense relief, but his mouth is hanging open now, his sharp canines catching the moonlight in a way that sends a shiver down your back. You still have another minute or so of cover from the air conditioning before the room is cloaked in sinister silence once again, so you use your last remaining seconds to sweep the floor with your bare feet, blindly feeling around in the dark for your shoes. Come on, where the fuck are they? you wonder, sure that you would’ve kicked them over by now, if they were still in the spot Joel had put them after he had stripped off your clothes and pulled you into the shower with him.

Fuck.

He locked them in the fucking truck, along with the rest of your clothes, along with all of his clothes and both of your bags full of your modest belongings. You’d been tucked into bed already, sniffling quietly into the pillow as he’d made one last trip outside in nothing but his briefs just to ensure that you wouldn’t be motivated to try something again during the night. You’d hardly be able to make it anywhere without a stitch of clothing on your back except for his threadbare t-shirt, after all, the length of it just barely enough to cover the tufts of curls that poke out from the apex of your thighs.

“Just a lil’ insurance policy. You understand, sweetheart,” Joel had whispered, slipping the key to the truck underneath his pillow before slithering into bed behind you, wrapping his arms around you and constricting you like a snake.

Fuck it. It’s been too long. You tiptoe across the few feet of space between your side of the bed and the door to the room, thankful that the AC rattles out one last dissonant groan loud enough to cover the squeak of the hinges and the click of the lock.

Free from the confines of that cage-like room at last, you shakily exhale the breath you’d been holding, and the desert air is cold enough for you to see the pale cloud of it against the onyx-colored sky. With your back pressed up against the door and your hands splayed out against the wood, you look up at the endless expanse of stars above the treeline and let out a shuddering sob, the sight both comforting and overwhelming all at once.

You feel small. You feel lost. You feel trapped. Scared. Sick. Confused. Everything. Nothing.

There’s a whole world out there, right in front of you, all around you, and it was waiting to welcome you with open arms, if you hadn’t fallen into the wrong ones first. You feel both grateful and damned to be alive, relieved that you’ve been fortunate enough to live to see another day, but knowing that each one that follows will be spent with him. In his captivity, doing his bidding, spending the rest of your life trying to decide which side of his polaroid camera is the worse one to be on.

The polaroids. You just can’t fucking get them out of your head. The only physical evidence of what happened to any of those girls, now sitting at the bottom of a gas station trash can, likely covered up with empty soda cans and fast food wrappers and grease-stained napkins by now. That black plastic bag was probably tossed into a dumpster sometime last night, ready to be loaded onto a trash truck and taken to a landfill, never to be seen again. Discarded. Forgotten.

If anything, you wish you could at least provide some kind of closure to their parents, to Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter, who only gave up the search for their daughter because they had let the police convince them that their bright, beautiful, and promising child had just decided to run away that summer. You wish you could somehow make it back across the country, walk up to their home and knock on the door and be able to tell them “I know what happened to her. A man took her—a monster. He killed her. I’m sorry.”

But then, what condolence would that provide them, without a body to lay to rest? You wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for her. Joel probably doesn’t even fucking remember where she is anymore, where any of them are. He probably just picks the most unassuming, low-trafficked area he can find nearby to dump their bodies after he’s done with them, chosen as carelessly as he would the next cigarette out of his pack—a thatch of tall grass off the side of a back road, a pile of dry-rotted debris where a barn once stood, an algae-covered pond behind a long-abandoned farmhouse. Bleak, filthy, forgettable places, where nobody would ever be able to find them.

Another sob wracks your body, and you muffle the sound with your hand as you slide down the door, your knees giving out from underneath you as you collapse onto the sidewalk.

Nobody knows where you are, or what happened to you, and nobody fucking cares. Not the police, not your own mother. You’ll be forgotten just like the rest of them if you haven’t been already, whether you make it out of this alive or not.

You can’t bear the thought. You thought you could, when you had first left home and started following Ruby’s trail all that time ago. It had seemed inspiring at the time, the idea of leaving that suffocating little town in search of somewhere else to plant your roots and let yourself bloom. But now… you have to make sure that someone knows the truth. Whether they care about you enough to come to your rescue or not, you need at least one person out there to know that you didn’t just vanish into the wind. That you’re still alive. That you’re still out there. That you haven’t given up yet.

You close your eyes for a moment, taking a few steadying breaths as the cool night breeze dries your tears and the thin veil of sweat that your anxious spiral had produced. When you open them again, your gaze lands on the payphone across the parking lot, and you heave a despondent sigh as you study a moth fluttering dizzily around the bulb that illuminates the little booth. The phone is even more useless to you now than it was the first time, without access to the handful of quarters that are still locked inside Joel’s truck. With that option eliminated, you push yourself up to your feet, and feel the tiny muscles in your toes spasm with the desire to run. You try to rewind your memory several hours back, searching for even a glimpse of something that might tell you where the fuck you are, which direction to head in—had you passed any street signs, local schools, city halls, anything? You must’ve been too terrified to pay any attention to your surroundings as Joel drove from the gas station to the motel, devoting all of your focus to planning your failed getaway. Joel was probably counting on that, and had intentionally picked this drab little motel in the middle of fucking nowhere in order to imprison you here.

You finally tear your eyes away from that hopeless, trapped little moth, instead turning your head toward the motel office all the way down at the end of the row of rooms. There’s a dim light on inside, but no other sign of a person working there. Considering the isolated nature of this bygone stretch of highway, the motel might not even get enough business to justify paying a person to man the front desk all night. You chew on your lip, debating if it’s even worth a shot just to take a look around and see if you can find anything of use in there.

Your feet are stepping one in front of the other before you can stop them, leading you toward the door with “OFFICE” painted on the glass window in bold red letters. Goosebumps rise on the exposed skin of your legs as you walk, and you almost hope that there isn’t anybody in there after all, just to spare yourself the embarrassment of having to talk to some innocent bystander while you grasp desperately at the bottom hem of your shirt and your remaining shreds of dignity. You hate how well Joel’s little “insurance policy” is working exactly the way he wanted it to.

The doorknob is cold against your fingertips, and your breath hitches in surprise when you’re able to turn it with no resistance. You slip inside the office and close the door behind you quietly, taking a beat to survey the wood-paneled room—there’s a corkboard of room keys with only one empty hook, a clock on the wall that makes you jump with each startling tick, and a coffee maker in the corner covered in a thin layer of dust, illuminated by the slices of white moonlight coming in through the blinds. It’s all too still, too untouched, everything about the room only emphasizing how absolutely alone you are here. And yet, you can’t shake the eerie feeling of a presence, of eyes on you, watching you and waiting to jump out from the shadows and drag you back to your keeper.

Just find what you came in here to look for and get the fuck out, you scold yourself, stepping behind the front desk and opening each drawer one by one as you search for the handful of items on your mental checklist—a pen, paper, an envelope, and a stamp.

It’s not your brightest idea, attempting to send a letter back home to your mother. But it’s better than doing nothing, just disappearing into the forest and letting the monster that lurks there kick dirt over your trail of breadcrumbs. Even if just one remains, it will be enough to prove that you were ever there at all.

The pen and paper were easiest to find, sitting right on top of the desk in plain sight. You’d torn off a sheet of the motel’s personalized notepad, the place’s name and address printed neatly across the top. If your mother does find it in her heart to come looking for you, at least she’ll know where to start.

The envelope and stamp are proving more difficult to locate, and each deafening tick of the clock above your head taunts you with its reminder of how much time you’ve been in here, out of bed, away from Joel. Your searching becomes a little more frantic, less gentle moving of objects out of the way and more haphazardly swiping them around the drawers in your fruitless scavenging.

“Um… hi there—” comes a voice from behind you, nearly startling a scream from your throat as you whirl around. You hit your hip on the open drawer and wince, and the owner of the voice puts her hands out in front of her, as if she had just spooked a small dog. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you…” She flits her eyes up and down your minimally clad form as she apologizes, and you self consciously yank your shirt down over your thighs. “Are you okay? Can I help you with something?”

She’s young, pretty, maybe a few years older than you, with doe-like green eyes and a pale face dappled with caramel-colored freckles.

“I-I was just, um… looking for an envelope? A-and a stamp, if you have any,” you confess shakily, your heart pounding and cheeks burning as you fidget nervously with the hem of your shirt. You glance over the girl’s shoulder and see a door you hadn’t noticed before, now open. There’s a drab-colored couch and a small flickering TV inside, playing at a volume low enough that you hadn’t heard it at all through the closed door. She must spend most of her night shift in there, watching reruns of old movies and munching on stovetop popcorn to stay alert just in case some poor soul comes stumbling into the office in need of her assistance. You feel a small pang of jealousy in your stomach as you imagine what a relaxed, carefree night she must have been having, while you were fighting for your life under the very same roof.

“Oh, sure! They’re just, um… Excuse me—” she says meekly as she steps in your direction. You scurry out of her way, swiping the pen and paper from the top of the desk as you do. She takes your place to crouch down and tug open the very bottom drawer in the stack you had been searching through, and rifles around for just a moment before she finds what she’s looking for. She hands the items off to you as she rises back to her full height, just a couple of inches above your own. “Here you are. Is that all you need?”

Yes. No. Not even fucking close.

You turn over the stationery in your hands, running your thumbs across the smooth surface of the envelope as you debate whether or not you should ask her for what you really need—help.

But the girl has so much life in her eyes, so much color in her cheeks that you can see even in the office’s low lighting, that you’d never be able to forgive yourself if you decide to involve her in this. Her face would be printed on the side of a milk carton the second you open your mouth.

“Mhm, just this stuff. Thank you.” You do your best to make it sound like the truth.

“...Are you sure?” She presses, gesturing to either side of her neck, her auburn eyebrows peaked with concern.

Shit.

In your effort to make sure your bottom half stayed covered, you had forgotten about the dark marks Joel had created around your throat just a handful of hours earlier. They must be pretty noticeable already, if this girl—Chrissy, her name tag reads—is able to spot them just by the light of one yellow bulb and a few slats of moonlight.

You nod, fighting the whimper that threatens to escape when you bring one hand up to press into your bruises, the other holding your letter-writing supplies in front of your lap.

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” you lie, though you can tell she doesn’t believe you. You wouldn’t believe you, either. But you’re thankful that she decides to let it go, anyway.

Chrissy nods, too. “So… you’re trying to mail a letter, then? We can’t really send it from here, but there’s a few mailboxes in town, if you’re gonna be sticking around for a little bit.”

“Oh, um… I’m not sure. Maybe,” you reply, offering a small smile as you shift your weight awkwardly. “Thank you.”

Chrissy presses her lips together, giving you another quiet nod along with one last sympathetic glance at your disheveled form. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else? I might have a pair of sweatpants with me if you—”

“No, no, it’s okay. I have to… he’s gonna, um…” You fumble, gesturing back to the room at the end of the row while you scramble for some kind of excuse that doesn’t give too much of your situation away. “I’m just going back to bed anyway, so… I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

A few beats of silence linger between you before you speak up again. “Could I write it in here, though? Just like… at the desk? I’ll be quick, I promise.”

She looks at you like you’re a kicked puppy as she replies, “Of course you can. I’ll be back there, if you decide you do want the change of clothes after all. If you could just close the door on your way out, and… be careful, okay?”

“Okay,” you half-whisper, and you can’t help the way your bottom lip trembles when Chrissy retreats back into that cozy little room, leaving the door cracked open just enough for the voices from her movie to keep you company while you write. You glance up at the clock once before you begin, promising to allow yourself no more than five minutes to say what you need to say, seal it away in the envelope, and sneak back into bed without Joel ever noticing you were gone.

You used to pride yourself on your neat handwriting, when you were still in school and a thing as trivial as that actually mattered. But you haven’t had to write anything by hand in so long now that you hardly recognize the disconnected capital “T”s and chaotically pointed “M”s as you scribble them down. The words are still mostly legible, though, even the ones that were accidentally blurred by stray tears you couldn’t wipe away in time before they hit the page.

You read over the letter once as the clock counts out your last remaining seconds, and decide it’s good enough to be slipped inside the envelope and secured with a swipe of your saliva. Your stomach flips when you go to write your home address on the front, fearing that you’ve forgotten it in all the time that Joel has spent scrubbing you clean of who you were before you met him. But when you close your eyes, you hear the song your father used to sing to you to help you remember it when you were little, in case you ever got lost and needed to tell someone where you came from. It had never really come in handy, until now.

With your sufficiently addressed and stamped envelope in hand, you quietly exit the office and pad your way back down the sidewalk to the room where your captor lies waiting. You press your ear to the door before entering, and wait until you hear the telltale groan of the air conditioning kicking back on. When the mechanical sound reaches its full volume, you slip back through the door and shut it behind you all in one swift, delicate movement. You slink over to your side of the bed like a cat, and tuck the envelope underneath the mattress as you gently crawl back underneath the covers, next to Joel’s still-sleeping form, in the exact same position you had left him in. The slight disruption of your weight depressing the mattress prompts him to roll over in his unconscious state, and his skin is scorching against your own as he wraps you up in his arms again, pulling you tight against his chest. He gives a slow buck of his hips against your backside and releases a quiet growl into your hair that makes you shiver despite the heat he radiates.

You can’t fight the pull of your heavy eyelids for much longer, the wave of adrenaline you had been riding all night finally coming to a crest and crashing against you all at once. Telling your story, getting the words down on paper, having some kind of half-assed plan to make sure you don’t just disappear into the ether, seems to have given you more peace of mind than expected, at least in your delirious, traumatized, and sleep-deprived condition. For now, you’re still treading water, still holding your head above the surface of the deep dark unknown that awaits, and it’s enough for your exhausted mind to finally show you a few hours worth of mercy.

You will survive this, you won’t disappear, even if you have to take it one excruciating day at a time.

—

The first day of the rest of your life begins that hazy morning after, when Joel finally rouses around ten o’clock from what seems to have been a relatively deep slumber. He tightens his grip around your upper body as he purrs out a sleepy groan, wetly kissing under your ear before mumbling, “Mornin’ babydoll.” Your body seems to have not caught up with reality just yet, evident in the way your cunt still flutters involuntarily at the sound of his gravelly morning voice and the warm slide of his tongue. You curse yourself for the instinctual reaction, wishing you could just reset all of the ways that your nerves have been trained to react to his touch over the past few months.

“Morning, Joel,” you whisper, and you can feel his half-hard length pressing into your back.

“You sleep okay, sweetheart?”

Your eyes go a little wide at his question, and you’re grateful that you’re still facing away from him. Is this a test? You can’t be sure anymore. But if he had ever realized you were gone during the night, surely he wouldn’t wait until the next morning to do something about it… right?

You nod. “Mhm, fine.” Your voice cracks a little, but Joel doesn’t seem to notice.

“Good, tha’s good…” he snakes a hand between your legs, finding its way underneath your—his—oversized shirt to lightly prod at your bare little hole. “And how’s she doin’, hm? Was dreamin’ about her all night, how fuckin’ good ‘n tight she was for me… She feelin’ sore at all this mornin’, babydoll?”

“A little, yeah.” His touch makes you shudder, but you know better than to try and reject it.

Joel tuts, circling the roughened pad of his finger over your clit. “Poor thing… ‘M sorry about that, baby. Jus’ got a lil’ carried away last night, tha’s all. You forgive me, don’t you, sweetheart? You understand?”

You hesitate, swallowing down the bitter taste of the lie you’re about to tell. “Yes, it’s… it’s okay, Joel.”

“Mmm, just the sweetest lil’ girl, ain’t you?” Joel says, swiping two of his fingers through your folds to collect some of your involuntary slick. He pulls his hand out from under the covers and sucks one of the damp digits into his mouth, releasing a pleasured groan. Joel gives another slow grind into your ass before bringing his hand in front of your face, pushing the other still-wet finger between your lips and forcing you to taste yourself. “See how sweet she is for me, baby? Think she forgives me too, don’t she?”

You nod around his finger, humming in pretend agreement.

“Perfect… so perfect for me, my lil’ doll,” Joel muses, sliding his finger back and forth across your tongue and teasing the back of your throat with each intrusive thrust. You fight to suppress your gag reflex until he eventually removes his finger from your mouth, wiping the dampness off on your shirt. “C’mere, pretty girl. Gimme a kiss,” he grumbles, gripping a paw onto your shoulder and pulling backwards, using the leverage to get you to roll onto your other side to face him.

The warm morning light coming in from the window illuminates the back of his head, highlighting the way his mussed salt and pepper locks stick up every which way. This is the first time you’re getting a good look at him since you had first spotted his disturbing keepsake box peeking out from underneath the bench seat, since he had snapped at you for trying to grab it, since you had still thought that would be the worst thing he’d ever do to you. It’s almost comical, in a sinister sort of way, how harmless Joel looks like this, with his scarred nose and stubbled cheeks still rosy from sleep.

You hadn’t anticipated how complicated it would be to still have to feign intimacy with him, how dizzying it already feels to stand on the sidelines in your own mind and watch your desire wrestle with your disgust. Joel presses his lips against your own, and you do your best not to grimace as you kiss him back. He still feels the same, still tastes the same, like black coffee and cigarettes and spearmint. But he isn’t the same.

Joel parts your teeth with his tongue as he deepens the kiss, hungrily lapping into your mouth as you let him take what he wants, only pulling away from him once he breaks the connection first. He brushes some of your hair away from your face when he does, admiring your slightly swollen lips as he rubs his calloused thumbs across your cheeks.

“Whaddya say we just have ourselves a nice afternoon together, hm? Think there might be a lil’ town nearby, could get us somethin’ to eat, maybe even do some shoppin’, dependin’ on what’s there.”

There’s a few mailboxes in town, if you’re gonna be sticking around for a little bit, you hear Chrissy’s voice repeat what she had told you last night, and feel an exhilarated pang in your chest when you remember the envelope you have hidden beneath you.

You try not to answer too eagerly, taking a beat before you respond with a quiet “Really?” “Yeah, babydoll. Why, you don’t wanna?”

“No! No, I—that sounds good. I just didn’t think… I thought you’d wanna get going again, or something. After… you know.” You bring your hand up to touch the sore sides of your neck instinctually, unable to bring yourself to say it, to think about it for longer than a couple of seconds.

“Like I said, sweetheart. We’ll just leave your hair down today, nobody’ll see ‘em,” Joel says casually.

It’s unsettling, the evenness in Joel’s tone as he suggests having a normal day together, attempting to just move on as if the contusions you’re discussing aren’t a direct result of his abuse. You’ve only just woken up, and you’re already feeling the whiplash from the softness of his words in comparison to the degradation he was spitting at you last night. You wonder how much of it he even remembers, if he had really just let some entirely separate entity inside of him get “carried away”, or if it was all Joel. He couldn’t have been that good at hiding his true self from you the entire time you’ve known him, could he? What does it say about you if the signs had been there all along, and you’d either chosen to ignore them, or missed them completely? How can you ever be sure now which Joel you’re in the company of at any given time?

“Okay,” you agree, putting on a small smile that he’s quick to return.

“Alright, we’ll get to it, then. Jus’ stay put, sweetheart, lemme bring our stuff back inside, find you somethin’ to wear.” Joel plants a whiskery kiss on your hairline before tossing the sheets aside and rising to his towering height, retrieving the key to the truck from underneath his pillow in the process. You can’t help the way your stomach flips as you watch him lumber towards the door, squeezing your thighs together under the covers at the sight of his visible morning wood bobbing in his briefs with each heavy step. You roll back onto your other side as soon as he steps over the threshold, letting the corners of your mouth drop as you curse yourself again. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? A constant battle between wanting to forget and feeling disgusted with yourself for even trying to? There has to be some way to navigate this without completely fucking loathing yourself for just trying to stay alive.

Joel returns to the room a few minutes later with his arms and hands full of the clothing he’s chosen for both of you. He drops his boots onto the carpet with a heavy thud, but sets your own shoes down next to them with more care. He tosses a few articles of his own things onto his side of the bed before coming around to yours, holding out his free hand for you to take. “Up you go, babydoll, c’mon,” he commands. You grab hold of his steady hand, using it for support as you slide out from underneath the covers and push yourself off the mattress, the springs creaking in protest.

Joel entwines his thick fingers in yours as he leads you toward the small bathroom. You loosen your grip to shut the door behind you, expecting him to drop his handhold to allow you some privacy, but his grasp only tightens. You inhale sharply at the dull pain caused by his fingertips digging into the back of your hand, and turn to face him with panicked eyes. The stern expression you’re met with makes your heart rate quicken, terrified that you’ve already somehow found a way to upset him again.

“I just need to use the bathroom first, I’ll try to be quick,” you insist, still attempting to untangle your fingers from his.

“Not with the door closed you don’t.”

“...W-why?” You question timidly.

Joel jerks his head toward the shower, his gaze still trained on you. “That lil’ window up there. Just gotta make sure you ain’t gonna try anythin’, tha‘s all.”

You glance over to the tiny window he’s referring to, the kind that doesn’t even open all the way, just cracks open enough to let the steam out.

“But… I couldn’t even fit through there. And I… I learned my lesson, Joel, I promise—”

“Shh, don’t gotta get all worked up, ‘s alright, sweetheart. Jus’ do what I ask, okay?” Joel finally drops your hand in favor of cradling the side of your neck, brushing his thumb across the tender cartilage at the front of it. “You understand, don’t you, baby? ‘S just a precaution.”

Joel speaks to you so gently, with such adoration in his tone and in his expression, even with the threatening placement of his hand on your throat. The blatant display of manipulation makes you dizzy. You drop your gaze from his face to the bathroom floor, and try to use the cool sensation of the tile against your bare feet to ground yourself.

“Are you gonna watch me while I… go?” You ask meekly, your cheeks warming with embarrassment.

“No, no, sweet girl,” Joel placates, using a hooked finger to lift your head back up. “I’ll wait outside for you. Jus’ leave the door ‘bout halfway open, ‘s all I’m askin’. Besides, ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before, hm?” He pinches at your chin with a teasing smile, continuing to act as if everything he’s asking of you is completely ordinary.

“Yeah, but…” You start, but Joel huffs in warning.

You concede with a sighed “Okay,” and he finally leaves you to conduct your business. You’re thankful that he at least isn’t watching you, instead just leaning his broad back against the doorframe outside the bathroom with his arms crossed. Although, you think he might’ve taken a peek when you had first sat down, in the brief moment when your oversized t-shirt was rucked up to your tummy. You go through the motions as quickly as possible so as not to prolong your mortification, practically flushing and stepping over to the sink all in one hurried movement. Joel slides himself behind you as you’re washing your hands, setting your clothing down on the back of the toilet before placing his hands on your hips. His hard length is slotted against your backside, and you do your best to ignore him as you dry your hands with the bleach-stained motel towel. He only continues to use his weight to press you harder against the edge of the sink, undeterred by your efforts, and you wince a little at the pain that begins to pulse under your ribcage.

“Lemme tell you how this is gonna be from now on, okay babydoll? Look at me,” Joel orders, and you meet his darkened eyes in the mirror where he towers above you as he continues, “You ain’t gonna do nothin’ for yourself or by yourself ever again, ‘s that clear? Nothin’. Know we had some of that before our lil’... incident… and you liked that, didn’t you, baby? Liked me takin’ care of you like that?”

You nod, because it’s true.

“You’re nothin’ but a lil’ doll to me from now on. Gonna let me dress you this mornin’, do your hair up, brush your teeth, everythin’... And when we go out today, you ain’t gonna talk to anybody, ain’t even gonna look at anybody, you understand? Nobody except for me. I’m all you got for the rest of your life. And that’s what we always wanted, ain’t it? Just each other…” He says the last part almost wistfully, letting go of your waist with one hand in favor of twisting a lock of your hair around one of his roughened fingers. “You’ll come to like livin’ like this, babydoll. Got no other choice, do you?”

You swallow, biting your lip to stave off burning tears that you know will only upset him if you let them spill.

“Do you?” Joel repeats.

“N-no, I don’t,” you reply, and he hums in satisfaction before rewarding you with a wet kiss to your temple that makes your skin crawl.

“Yeah, tha‘s right… Turn around now, arms up for me, sweetheart.” Joel steps back from the sink to allow you room to obey his command, and you don’t hesitate to do so. He carefully lifts his t-shirt over your head before tossing it to the floor, and you shiver as the breeze blowing in from that one cracked window wraps itself around your naked form. Joel tuts when you wrap your arms over your pebbled nipples on instinct, gently scolding, “Nuh uh, don’t cover up what’s mine. Lemme look at ya.” He uses a light touch to guide your limbs down to your sides, whistling low as his predatory eyes roam around your trembling body, spending a few extra moments on your exposed chest. “Most gorgeous lil’ thing in the whole world… Would jus’ parade you around with me all bare like this if I could, show y’ off to everybody. Bet you’d like that, huh babydoll?” He taunts, pinching at one of your hardened buds.

“Y-yeah, I would,” you appease quietly, but he doesn’t seem to pay your unenthusiastic response any mind, too preoccupied with shimmying a new pair of panties up your legs. He takes a little too much extra care in settling them around the creases of your thighs, and huffs to himself when he notices the way your little hole squeezes around nothing at the sensation of his fingertips sliding underneath the elastic, just barely teasing your folds. Joel has you turn around to face the mirror again so he can clip your bra behind your back, and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips despite yourself when he zips on the pretty blue dress he picked out for you. You like how it compliments your eyes, even with how tired they look.

Just like Joel had told you he would, he doesn’t allow you to do a single thing for yourself as he completes the rest of your morning routine, holding your chin securely in the dip between his thumb and forefinger as he brushes your teeth and tips a glass of water into your mouth for you to rinse out the minty paste with. He cradles the base of your skull with one hand, using the other to scrub the sleep from your eyes and the oils from your cheeks with a damp washcloth. Joel gets to work on your hair next, pulling the top half of it into two small ponytails and tying each of them off neatly with ivory-colored ribbons. You’re surprised at the delicate movements his hands are capable of despite their size, despite the damage they’ve caused. He’s clearly had some practice with this, but you try not to think about it too hard.

Once Joel deems his doll pretty and presentable, he leads you out of the bathroom and has you sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling before you with some protest from his aching joints. He slips a pair of lace-trimmed socks over your feet, one at a time, followed by the same canvas sneakers you were wearing when you had first met him. The sight of them brings you a little comfort, somehow, the discolored laces and smudged rubber soles making up just about the only familiar things you have in your possession anymore. Nearly everything you own, everything about you, has been tainted by Joel in some way now. You should’ve just taken off in the other direction when he’d pulled over his truck, left nothing but a cloud of dust in your wake and never even have given him the chance to ask you in that stupid disarming Southern twang of his if you needed a ride, if you were lost, if you had family or a boyfriend who cared about you enough to come looking for you. You’d advertised yourself in big bold lettering that you were the perfect fucking victim, practically wrapping the rope around your white woolen neck yourself so he could lead you to slaughter. This is what you deserve, stupid lamb that you are. Look at you now.

Joel instructs you to stay perched on the bed while he completes his own morning regimen, and you hang your head low as you rest your hands in your lap, picking at the skin around your fingernails. They’re practically raw now, but you can’t stop even though you should, even though it hurts, even though you’ve made yourself bleed. It had always been a nervous habit of yours, and you hadn’t noticed until you started up again last night that this was probably the nicest your nail beds had looked in years. You’d felt so comforted, so safe with Joel that you hadn’t had a reason to continue the self-destructive behavior, until all those fluttery feelings were ripped out from under you in a second. You’d been biting and tearing at your skin all night in addition to the many other things you’d been doing instead of sleeping, the habit having returned with a force as you’d used the pain to… what? To make up for the lack of blood you’d shed, to apologize to the ghosts of Anna and Elizabeth and Ruby and ask them please not to haunt you, you’re sorry, you’re sorry, you’re sorry. See? He’d made you bleed, too.

You’ve been attempting to balance your attention between your hands and the bathroom, waiting for an opportunity to arise where Joel is distracted enough for you to retrieve the envelope from its hiding place without him seeing. You keep your chin close to your chest as you observe his movements, trying not to make it too obvious that you’re watching him. After a few minutes, he finally bows his head into the sink to splash some water onto his skin, and you quickly reach behind you to swipe the letter and shove it underneath the waistband of your panties. Joel still hasn’t lifted his head back up by the time you’ve got it situated, and the corner of your mouth twitches in satisfaction. For a plan that you’re basically just making up as you go along, it’s going better than you expected.

You return to your preoccupation with your hands as you wait for Joel to finish up, and you remain hunched over yourself even as he flicks off the bathroom light and stalks over to where you’re now sucking the taste of bitter iron from one of your fingers. He startles you out of your focused state when he asks, “What’re you doin’, babydoll?”

You lift your head up, releasing the smarted skin from your mouth as you hold out your hand to examine the injury. Both of you watch a little crimson pearl begin to swell in the groove where your nail disappears into the skin. “Oh…” Joel sighs, grabbing your hand gently and raising it closer to his face, turning it this way and that to admire how your blood catches the light. You swear you can see his pupils dilate before he sucks your finger into his own mouth, swirling his tongue around your skin as he savors the metallic tang mixed with the remnants of your saliva. You feel the sharp edge of his teeth graze the pad of your finger, and your breath catches as you fear he might just bite the thing clean off from the last knuckle down. He doesn’t, of course, just lets his eyelids quiver and his cock twitch before releasing the digit from his mouth and rumbling out a quiet growl. You can’t help the somewhat sickened expression that overtakes your features as you watch Joel’s perverted little display, but work to fix it into something more neutral as he opens his eyes again.

“Pretty sure I got some bandaids in the truck, lemme get dressed ‘n then we’ll hit the road, hm?” he says, in a tone too casual to belong to someone who’d just had a near orgasmic reaction to tasting your blood. You suppose this is just another consequence of your survival—having to endure Joel’s unconcealed freakish tendencies now that he knows you’re not a flight risk anymore.

Joel tugs on his standard uniform—his thick canvas jacket layered overtop a simple undershirt and earth-toned flannel, paired with tattered jeans and his sturdy leather work boots. You allow him to help you to your feet as he leads you out to the truck, his thick fingers laced tightly through the ones of your non-bloodied hand. You have to squint at how bright the late morning sky is, your eyes aching as they adjust from the dim lighting of the motel room.

“Hey, morning!” Comes a cheery voice from down the row. You turn your head in the direction of the sound, and put your hand up to shield your eyes from the sun in an effort to get a better view of the person it came from. When your gaze finally focuses, you’re able to make out a feminine figure with auburn hair and alabaster skin, her slender arm waving at you in greeting—Chrissy.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You dip behind Joel, attempting to hide yourself from her view. He puts a protective hand across your body, and takes the lead in responding to her. “...Mornin’. Can we help you with somethin’?”

Her footsteps pause on the pavement, and there’s a beat before she says anything else, likely not expecting Joel’s less-than-friendly response to her sunny demeanor. “...No. Well, I just wanted to say ‘hi’, check in on you—Both of you,” she corrects herself quickly. You’re staring straight down at the sidewalk, avoiding eye contact just like Joel had demanded of you. But you can still see her out of the corner of your vision, attempting to lean around Joel’s large form to get a better look at you. You feel like your heart is about to burst out of your fucking ribcage as Joel turns his head toward where you’re cowering behind his arm, then slowly back to Chrissy.

“We’re fine,” he says plainly.

The silence that follows feels like it lasts an eternity. You hate how weak you must look in front of her, practically shaking where you stand like a newborn fawn while you seek the protection of this much older man whose hands, Chrissy must notice, are large enough to have created the marks on your neck that she had pointed out last night. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together, to figure out the reason—the person—behind your flighty, nervous, and fidgety behavior in the office. Chrissy takes a few steps backwards, away from this strange couple standing before her, one she realizes is in her best interest not to engage further with.

Her voice comes out noticeably more unsteady now than it did when she had first approached you. “W-well, I just like to say ‘hi’ to guests on my way out if I see them. So… ‘hi’, and, um… if you need anything, someone else will be here soon to cover the office.” She rushes through the latter part of her sentence, like she just wants to spit all the words out as quickly as possible so that the interaction can be over with. You can’t see his face, but you suspect Joel is giving her some kind of hooded-eyed look that’s making her stumble over her words. “Have a good day, you two. Be careful,” she adds before she departs, and you know that those last two words were meant for you.

Joel watches her as she disappears around the corner of the building, only lowering his arm once she’s completely out of sight. You don’t look up until the sounds of her footsteps dissipate, until Joel’s arm is on your lower back as he ushers you into the truck.

“Get in, baby,” he commands, opening the door for you and helping you up into the passenger side of the bench seat. He reaches across your body to buckle your seatbelt for you before you can even lift your hand to do it yourself.

Once you’re situated to his liking, Joel closes your door and makes his way over to the driver’s seat, climbing inside and igniting the rumbling engine. He roots around in the truck’s center console, tossing aside cigarette butts and gum wrappers and loose change, eventually coming up with a single bandaid. Its paper sleeve looks crumpled and neglected, and you suppose it’s because he’s never really had a use for it until now. There isn’t much of a point in trying to bandage the type of wounds he typically inflicts, anyway, the damage already having been done.

“Gimme your hand, darlin’, hold it still for me.” Joel tears open the wrapper with his calloused thumbs and flicks away the little paper tabs from the fabric’s sticky surface, wrapping the bandaid around your finger tenderly. It would be a sweet moment, if it weren’t for the way he adjusts himself upon seeing the deep red droplet bloom on the other side of the little cotton pad. You make a mental note to work on finding a different self-soothing mechanism, lest you want to wake up in the middle of the night with his knife at your neck and his cock in his hand, deciding that you weren’t worth keeping around after all, that he just had to know if you really are just as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside, to know if the rest of your volume tastes as sweet as the small sample he’d already taken.

You sit on your hands the entire ride into town.

—

The drive was mostly silent, but actually kind of pleasant, finally giving you a real opportunity to take in the vast surroundings of… wherever you are, New Mexico. Your hands had gotten uncomfortably warm where they were squished under the bare skin of your legs for the entire half-hour or so drive, but you didn’t dare remove them. You’d have had nowhere else to put them anyway, not with the way Joel’s large paw was clamped onto your upper thigh, his pinky finger slipping underneath the hem of your dress and tracing the edge of your panties. You were grateful you’d had enough forethought to slip the envelope into the right side of your underwear, predicting that he’d get handsy like this in the truck. You’d just kept your body perfectly rigid with your head turned away from him, and tried not to descend into madness thinking about what he had made of your interaction with Chrissy earlier, if he suspected anything, if he knew you were hiding something, if he suddenly developed x-ray vision overnight and knew exactly what you were concealing under your dress.

Relief washed over your nervous system as you’d observed jagged rockwork and ochre-colored scrub brush gradually turn into modest Pueblo-style homes and businesses, glad to have finally been granted an opportunity to escape the motel after your twelve hours of terror. The steadily approaching signs of civilization had served as a reminder that the world does actually have other people in it besides you and Joel, despite what he’s been attempting to convince you of.

The town had become more populated the further the truck had chugged along down the main street, with a few friendly-looking people walking their dogs and carrying paper grocery bags as they strolled along the storefronts. You had even found yourself staring at a group of girls around your age sipping their coffees together on a bench, giggling and gossiping and making you wish you had problems as superficial as theirs. They reminded you of the type of girl Ruby was, bright-eyed and carefree and beautiful, and you’d tried to swallow down the bitter resentment that had begun to simmer in the pit of your stomach. Joel hadn’t even seemed to notice the girls as the truck passed them by, and you weren’t sure if his disinterest should make you feel satisfied or hopeless. Yesterday, you would’ve told yourself that you’re the love of his life, of course he wouldn’t dare have eyes for anyone but you, he’ll never leave your side for the rest of his life. But the sentiment takes on a much different connotation today, feeling more like a life sentence than a daydream.

You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the truck had finally rolled to a stop outside of a quaint little restaurant, its terracotta awning decorated in twinkling lights. The sign on the facade read The Coyote Café, and had a little silhouette of the namesake animal painted next to the words. You could see through the turquoise-trimmed windows that there were already a handful of other patrons inside enjoying their meals, and it made you feel a little safer, knowing that Joel would be more motivated to put his mask back on in front of so many pairs of eyes. In a town this small, the two of you probably stick out like a sore thumb enough as it is, the café seeming like the kind of place where the waitresses know the regulars by name. You were eager to finally be able to drop your defenses, at least for a little while.

Joel had chosen a table all the way in the back corner of the place, furthest from the door, and had insisted on the both of you sharing the same side of the booth. Although you could feel a few stares on you, you’d remained steadfast in your obedience of the rules he had laid out for you this morning, and kept your head down while he placed your orders with the waitress—a plate of enchiladas and a beer for him, and a cheese quesadilla with a glass of water for you. You probably would’ve been able to eat more, but you suspected that his choice of meal for you was deliberate, so as not to provide you with too much energy that you might use to make another break for it. It had reminded you of the way he had convinced you to take your coffee decaf at Moody’s that night, all of it seeming so fucking obvious now, in hindsight.

“You know somethin’, babydoll?” Joel suddenly asks through a mouthful of beans and rice. “Think I saw a lil’ consignment shop just down the way. Whaddya say we head on over there next, let you pick out somethin’ pretty for yourself since you been so good today, hm?”

You hadn’t exchanged many words as you’d been eating, other than the occasional semi-awkward comment about how nice the weather is or how good your meals are. Ordinarily, you’d be making up stories about the interesting-looking strangers sitting at the counter, or quizzing each other on the country songs playing over the radio, or debating whether the color of his flannel was really green or brown. You’d sometimes hang out at diners so late into the evening that the waitstaff would have to kick you out, and you’d be apologetic as you made your way back out to the truck, hardly able to believe how much time you’d lost track of while you were flicking wadded up straw wrappers at each other or taste testing each other’s desserts. You mourn the version of Joel in those memories as you push around the crumbs on your plate, quietly responding to him with, “Really? You’d let me?”

“‘Course I would, sweet girl.” He wipes the corners of his mouth with a napkin before lowering his voice, leaning down closer to your ear. “Long as you let me take it off of ya later tonight.”

“Let me.” As if you have any other choice.

Joel chuckles at his own crude comment as he slings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you flush to his side. He finishes the rest of his meal with one hand while he rakes the other along your upper arm, occasionally sliding a finger underneath your bra strap and snapping it against your skin. You’re only able to let your posture relax for just a moment when the waitress brings around the check, and he finally removes his scalding hand in order to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket. He slaps a few crumpled bills onto the table, and then his thick fingers are forcing themselves in between your own smaller ones as he pulls you up from the booth and leads you out of the café. You spare a glance at the motherly-looking waitress on your way out, and you exchange sympathetic looks with each other behind Joel’s back. You wish she didn’t look so sorry for you, like you’re a wounded animal being dragged around by the hunter who shot an arrow through your heart. But isn’t that what you are?

Your feet stop dead in their tracks when you step down onto the sidewalk outside the cafe, your brain too enamored with the landscape of the surrounding valley to tell them to keep moving. The wide open sky and limestone hills dappled with towering evergreens almost look like a painting, the way the mountains turn paler shades of blue-green as they extend further into the distance. It’s so unlike the flat, beige midwestern states where you and Joel had begun your journey together, it almost takes your breath away.

“You just gonna stare up at the sky all day, or d’you wanna get to shoppin’, hm?” Joel says, startling you from your state of wonder.

“Oh, no, we can go. I’m sorry,” you submit, hurrying to Joel’s side. He makes an enamored little hum and kisses the top of your head before continuing to pull you along the storefronts. You keep your head down, counting the cracks in the pavement as you work to keep up with his long strides.

“See that buildin’ down there, the one with the pink siding? Tha’s the lil’ clothin’ store I was talkin’ about.” You flick your eyes upward to where Joel is pointing a lazy finger, immediately spying the technicolor little shop he’s referring to. The unusual choice in paint color is certainly eye catching, but what you’re really drawn to is the dark blue metal receptacle standing on the sidewalk just in front of it—a mailbox, just like Chrissy told you there would be.

This is it. This is your chance. When you get up to the mailbox, you’ll improvise a way to direct Joel’s attention elsewhere, and use the opportunity to slip the envelope from under your dress and deposit it into the box without him noticing. You’ll have to move quickly, precisely, quietly, or it’s all over.

You should start tugging it loose now, so that it’ll be halfway in your hand already by the time you reach the store. You pat your hand against your upper thigh, expecting to feel the paper crinkling against your skin.

Except, you don’t. You can’t feel it. It isn’t there anymore.

You feel panic start to bloom in your chest, but try your best to keep your cool. The mailbox is only a few paces away now, and you’ll have nothing to deposit into the slot, because your chance at preventing yourself from being completely forgotten by the one person in your life who might actually care, is gone. Vanished.

Where the fuck is it? Had it fallen out when you were exiting the truck? Is it laying on the floor of the cab for Joel to discover when he helps you back into your seat later? Where could it possibly have—

“Hey, excuse me! Mister?” A young-sounding voice—male, unfamiliar— shouts from behind you, followed by the sound of jogging footsteps. Joel turns around, your hand still held securely in his own. Your feet stay planted exactly where they are, your eyes unblinking and locked onto the mailbox, just barely out of reach. “Did one of you drop this? Found it on the floor by your table when I was cleaning up, didn’t want you to leave it behind.”

“Uh… don’t think so. Lemme take a look—” Your arm pulls in an uncomfortable direction as Joel reaches toward the boy to retrieve the mystery object. Well, it’s a mystery to him, you already know exactly what it is. All you can do is hold your breath while Joel undoubtedly reads your handwriting on the front of the envelope, hoping that if you stand perfectly still, you might really be able to disappear. Without the letter, that’s the ending you’re destined for now, anyway.

Joel laughs breathily. “Y’know what, son? Think we did drop this. Thank you kindly for bringin’ it back to us.” Joel squeezes your hand so hard you think all the fragile little bones might shatter, and you bite your lip to stifle a pained whimper. Your eyes start to water as the crippling fear you had felt last night begins to climb its way up the back of your throat, and you wonder if this bus boy in the middle of nowhere, New Mexico, might just become the last person besides Joel to see you alive. Or at least, the back of your head. Without giving him a good look at your face, he wouldn’t even be able to recognize you when they show your picture on the news a day or two from now, or be able to go to the police and tell them that this lumberjack-looking older man he encountered was the one he saw you with last. You should’ve known better than to try tempting fate again.

“Of course! Have a good one,” says the bus boy, and a tear escapes your waterline as you wait for the sounds of his footsteps to fade. You can’t be sure if the wetness collecting on your lashes is from the pain of Joel’s iron grip on your hand, or from the sheer terror of being found out by him again. What you do know, is that he doesn’t seem like the type to let you go through all three strikes before he puts you out.

“We will,” Joel responds, but only loud enough for you to hear.

He turns back around after what feels like an eternity, sighing disappointedly. You don’t need to look at him to know that he's upset, angry, furious. It radiates off his skin, penetrates your soul, wraps itself tightly around your throat in replacement of his hands. Your palm is sweating, but he doesn’t let go, just digs his dull nails into the back of your hand as he snarls a one-worded command close to your ear—”Walk.”

Joel drags you the rest of the way to the mailbox, shoving you down onto the wooden bench just beside it. You’re surprised that whatever it is he’s about to do to you, he’s confident enough to do it in broad daylight, in front of a few dozen potential witnesses. You keep your eyes on the ground, waiting to hear the flick of his pocket knife or the cracking of his knuckles, but all that comes is a tired groan as he kneels before you, lifting your chin up to face him.

Joel wags the envelope in front of your face with his other hand, looking at you with a more pitied expression than an enraged one. “You wanna tell me what this is, babydoll?” He asks in a confusingly even tone. You search his eyes for the reddish hue they had become last night when he was spewing obscenities at you and threatening your life, but you don’t find it.

“It’s… it’s a letter,” you admit, blinking away tears. You avoid his gaze even with your chin raised, looking around at the townspeople to see if any of them are staring at the little scene the two of you are putting on.

“Don’t look at them, baby, look at me. They ain’t gonna help you.” Joel jostles your face in his grip, and you flick your eyes back to him immediately. “I can see that it’s a letter, sweetheart. Who were you plannin’ on sendin’ it to, hm? Whose name is this?” Joel prompts, using his thumb to tap the name and address you had scribbled onto the center of the paper.

You let out a sob, the patronizing tone of his questioning making you feel so fucking stupid with just a few words. How is he so fucking good at this? At breaking you down, spinning the effects of his own actions back onto you, making you feel like the one in the wrong.

“My mom, I… I wrote it to my mom,” you reply through little sniffles, and you can hardly stand the exaggeratedly sympathetic way that Joel’s eyebrows peak at your answer.

“Babydoll… What could you possibly have to say to her? You ‘n I both know she don’t care about you anymore, never did. She’d open this up and just throw it right in the trash… I mean—” Joel releases your chin from his hold in order to slide his thumb along the envelope’s seal, tearing open the flap and removing the page of motel stationery you had written your plea on in the dim lighting of the office. “Here, sweetheart. Why don’t you read it to me, lemme hear what you wanted to tell her so badly you decided to do it behind my back. You snuck outta bed last night to do this, I assume?”

You nod, taking the letter from his hand and unfolding it.

“Hm… Have to do somethin’ else about our sleepin’ arrangements from now on, then.” You don’t know what he means by that, and you aren’t looking forward to finding out. “Read it to me, darlin’, go ‘head.”

You take a deep breath, blinking hard as you try to get your watery eyes to focus on the page. “I s-said that, um… that I was sorry for leaving, that I don’t blame her for the way she treated me growing up.” You pause to swallow the moisture collecting in the back of your throat as you cry, and attempt to steady your wavering voice before you continue. “A-and… that I was with you, that we’ve been traveling together, but… But I got scared, and I w-wanted her to come get me. Um… ‘Please don’t forget about me. I love you. I’ll see you when you get here.’ That’s the last thing I said.” You set the letter down on your lap and collapse in on yourself, burying your wet face in your hands as your sobs become full force.

“Oh, babydoll…” Joel soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your arm as you cry. “Where did you get all these ridiculous ideas, hm? Sayin’ that you love her, that you forgive her? I mean, do you really believe she’d come lookin’ for you all the way out here, snatch you up and take you home ‘cause she cares so much about you?” “I… I don’t know, maybe. I just couldn’t sleep last night, I got so afraid of—” “That girl in the parkin’ lot this mornin’... it was her, wasn’t it? You moseyed on into the office lookin’ all pitiful last night and she talked you into doin’ this? She took advantage of you, baby?” Joel brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his face contorted in dramatic concern.

You’re so caught off guard by his accusations, your shuddering body finally stills. You lift your head up from your hands, wiping your eyes on the backs of them. “...What?”

“I mean, I know you know better than this, so it must’ve been her, puttin’ all these nonsense ideas into your head, convincin’ you to do somethin’ that’d only get you hurt… She don’t know what’s good for you like I do, baby. What was gonna happen when you sent off your lil’ letter, and you waited ‘n waited ‘n waited, and your mama never came for you? Who’d be there to take care of you, hm? Me. Always gonna be me.” Joel gently swipes his thumbs underneath your eyes, collecting the salty dampness still there. He sounds so sure of his own words, they’re almost convincing you that you’re misremembering your encounter with Chrissy last night. It was late, you were exhausted, and Joel is right, you do know better, you’ve told him yourself. Had she done more than just provide you with the envelope and stamp? Was the idea in your head before you walked into the office, or had she somehow persuaded you of it without you being any wiser? You’d remember if Joel’s version of the story is the one that really happened, wouldn’t you?

“No, Joel, she didn’t—” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“She did, baby, I think she did… Poor girl, must’ve been too out of it to even remember what really happened. D’you see now? This is why it’s gotta be just you ‘n me from now on, sweetheart. ‘Cause there’s all kinds of people out there like her who wanna get inside your head, convince you of things that ain’t true…”

As undeserving as Chrissy may or may not be of the blame for your childish endeavor, you feel relieved that your most recent act of defiance doesn’t seem to have the same effect on Joel as the one you attempted last night. He seems more… sorry for you, than anything else, and you aren’t quite sure why he seems to feel differently now than he did a mere twelve hours ago. Maybe he views it as proof of your loyalty, the fact that you had made it outside, gotten yourself a small taste of freedom, and still decided to crawl back into bed with him afterwards. You could’ve taken off running down the road if you’d really wanted to, his “insurance policies” be damned, but you didn’t. You stayed. And you hate what that says about you—that you’re fucking weak. But you’ll take “weak” over “dead”, at this point.

You decide to poke the bear a little bit, just to confirm if you’re in the clear the way you seem to be. “So… you’re not upset?”

“No, no, I ain’t upset with you, baby. But this is why you can’t do things without me no more, okay? Can’t trust nobody out there except for me, can you?”

You pause, then shake your head at him.

“Good, good girl… Y’know what, baby? Here—” Joel reaches into the pocket of his jacket, and pulls out a tarnished silver lighter. “Why don’t we just forget about all this, huh? Forget about your mama, that girl back at the motel… All those people who don’t care about you the way I do.” He places the cool metal object in your hand and closes your fingers around it.

“You… want me to burn it?”

Joel shrugs, quirking his mouth into a pout. “Don’t see why you’d wanna keep it… Ain’t goin’ anywhere, is it?”

“...No, guess not,” You mumble under your breath. You know what this means, what it symbolizes, why he wants you to do it yourself. So you can bear witness to your one last glimmer of hope dissolving into embers and ash on the sidewalk at your feet, so you can understand that there is no other outcome other than the one Joel had predetermined for you the second you had agreed to let him take you to Moody’s that night. There is no way out. There is submitting to him, and there is death. Take your pick.

You flick open the lighter, raise the flame to the paper, and watch it ignite. It only takes a few seconds before you feel the heat begin to lick at your fingers, and you drop the still-burning remainder of the letter onto the pavement below so as to spare your hands any further injury today. It curls in on itself and crumples as it chars, and the two of you stare at it until it’s nothing more than a smoldering pile of cinders. You swear you can see an amused smile tug at the corners of Joel’s lips in the edge of your vision.

“Don’t that feel better, baby? Finally lettin’ go of her?” he asks, taking the lighter from your hands and shoving it back into his pocket, along with the envelope.

You sniffle once, shrugging. “A little.”

“I know, sweet girl. It will, in time. You’ll understand sooner or later.” Joel groans as he pushes himself back up from his kneeling position, then extends a hand down for you to take. He helps you stand, then adjusts your hair to sit nicely over your bruises again, before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Now, that red-headed girl… Did you get her name, sweetheart?”

“...Chrissy. Her name was Chrissy,” you answer hesitantly, the intonation of your response sounding more like a question.

“Chrissy…” Joel repeats, letting her name settle on his tongue. “Whaddya say we just head on back, see about payin’ Chrissy a lil’ visit, hm?” He retakes your hand in his, then starts in the direction of the truck.

Your heart sinks into your stomach, realizing the hidden meaning of his words. “Jus’ gotta bring ‘em to me, tha’s all. Maybe go after ‘em if they try to run,” Joel had rasped into your ear last night, when he was describing the role you’d be forced to play in continuing his sick habit.

“W-what? Why? She won’t be there anymore, remember? She said she was leaving, that somebody else would be working in the office for the day,” you frantically remind him, hoping that she can be spared after all, hoping that you can be spared from your first time acting as bait.

Joel stops walking for a moment as he considers your words, then pulls you along with him again. “Pay a visit to whoever’s workin’ in there, then. See if they know where she might be.” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, just stares straight ahead as he hones in on the truck like a missile. The overly concerned facade he had put on earlier seems to be faded now, replaced with something more akin to bloodthirsty determination.

You scrape the far corners of your mind for something, anything you could say to him that might talk him out of this. “But… I thought you said she took advantage of me? Why would you want to see her if you think she tried to hurt me?”

A muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. His nostrils flare.

“You know why.”

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