#I’ve been staring at this ask in my ask box for days now desperately wanting to draw it

[heyyesimtrash-whatofit]

Hiya J!

I'm obsessed with your Docpocalypse AU, its so hilarious!

Could we see Jennifer getting dragged into this, seeing all the Docs and a very tired Marty? :D

Heyo!!! So glad you’re enjoying this stupid au! Apologies for the lack of color, but this weekend got stupidly busy for me for some reason. Anyway, let’s drag Jen into this mess!!

Buckle up, Jennifer, because this ride just gets wilder with every passing minute!

[cowgirlvi]

mdni. sub-bottom ellie. top-fem reader. strap-on usage. vaginal sex. loss of virginity. squirting.

wc; 1,396

you’ve thought about fucking ellie before, but never like this—you never imagined she’d be so shy, flushed as pink as a tea rose, desperately attempting to quiet her huffs and whimpers while you kiss along her neck. for as long as you’ve known ellie, she’s been loud and unapologetic. the juxtaposition of her in bed is a startling contrast.

“hurry up,” she mutters, and her voice is so quiet it’s almost cute—unmistakable nervousness scratching at her throat.

it all started the other day when the two of you wandered into an adult toy store on a whim, giggling at the ridiculous names of different phallic-shaped objects. this is, until you spotted one in particular—

it was a black leather harness accompanied by a jelly-pink dildo, translucent and glittery on the inside. it spoke to you immediately, and not just because it was on sale.

you stretched onto your toes, plucking the beat-up box from its dusty shelf. skimming over the instructions with a slow, knowing smile, you glance up at ellie through your lashes. and the moment she caught on, her entire face burned crimson, taking a wary step back.

“huh? no way! absolutely not!”

and yet, here she is now—nude beneath you, pale legs spread, and her skin hot to the touch. your hands glide down her sides in a slow, soothing motion, mapping every dip and curve, savoring the softness of her small breasts and the subtle jut of her hipbones. though, when your eyes settle between her legs, ellie inhales sharply and tries to close them like a prey animal hiding from a predator.

”you were the one that wanted to do this, so get on with it,” ellie says lightly, but her tough facade is slipping.

”what’s with the attitude? i’m treating you nicely, aren’t i? all you’ve done is complain,” you wonder, fingers tracing lazy circles over her thigh. your voice softens, dipping into something honeyed and coaxing when you say, “you know what i think? i think you just need your pussy filled right, baby? yeahhh, you just want me to stuff your hole with my cock, maybe that’ll shut you up.”

ellie’s face burns even hotter. ”don’t say shit like that! god, you’re so weird—“

but you interrupt her, rubbing the head of your strap against her hole. it catches against her opening once, twice, three times. ellie shivers and involuntarily spreads her legs wider.

yeah. she needs her pussy filled, alright.

you hear the squelching sounds her juices make against the silicone, and the noise alone makes you throb. “your pussy’s so loud, els,” you murmur, voice heavy with desire. “wetter than i’ve ever seen before, too.”

she shoots you a glare, so you heed her silent warning and ease off, smoothing a hand up her stomach. “you sure you don’t want me to finger you some more?” you ask, serious now.

”i’m not made of glass,” ellie’s quick to reply. “just—put it in already. please.”

and really, who are you to deny a girl with such good manners?

you press the tip against her opening, watching ellie’s face for any signs of pain. finding none, you push in further, watching the soft, wet heat of her body suck you in until the head of your strap pops inside entirely.

ellie gasps, twisting her fingers in your bedsheets, creasing the baby pink fabric as she stares between her legs. she’s completely transfixed by the sight of you inside her, how her pussy is stretched around you—but the moment another inch eases inside her tight hole, her head drops back against the pillows with a whimper.

“holy shit,” you breathe. “you’re so tight, baby. i don’t know how i’m gonna fit the whole thing.”

”you’re s-seriously so embarrassing,” ellie mutters, raspy and as quiet as a whisper.

minutes pass as you work her open—slowly, gently—until you’re buried to the hilt. her pussy visibly clenches around your strap, adjusting to the unfamiliar feeling of having her hole filled so deeply. you stroke slow circles into her waist with your thumbs, admiring how she’s glazing your shaft with her juices.

it’s hard for you to hold back from describing the vulgar scene before you, from telling ellie how cute her pussy looks stuffed to the brim, how hard you want to fuck her, but you keep your mouth shut for her sake while she adjusts.

”okay, you—you can move now,” ellie exhales. her green eyes are hazy as if she’s already cockdrunk. 

you draw your hips back, admiring the way her walls cling to you, slick and needy. her little clit twitches where it peaks out of her labia, aching for some relief, but remembering how sensitive the little nub is, you know to save that part for last.

you thrust forward and ellie sucks in a sharp breath.

again. again. a slow, measured rhythm as you adjust your angle, and then—

”mmnh—oh, that’s g-good, babe—ahh!”

found it.

“you like that, els?” you ask, syrupy and teasing, “you look—fuck—so cute like this. mmf, can’t get enough of you.”

the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with ellie’s soft, breathy moans that are steadily escalating in volume. 

your hands slide down to grip the back of her thighs, pressing them further apart, and your fingers dig into her soft flesh, no doubt leaving marks behind. her small tits bounce with every thrust and she’s a visionary. 

one of your hands moves to paw at ellie’s breast, squeezing the small mound like a stress ball, making her hips jump. you let out a moan of pure, unadulterated pleasure when she grinds back against your thrusts, pressing the strap roughly into your clit.

ellie is completely at your mercy, all she can do is lay there and take it as your hips piston forward, the thick length of your strap plunging deep inside her warm pussy.

leaning over her, your lips brush against the shell of her ear, grunting due to the immense amount of strength behind your thrusts. 

”you’re, hah, seriously so fucking tight,” you say right against her ear, husky and wanting. “i swear i can feel you gripping me.”

”you’re fucking—ngh!” ellie’s trembling now, clenching harder around your cock as if she, too, believes you can feel her tight heat. “you’re obnoxious.”

you brace one hand on the mattress beside ellie’s head, the other one gripping the headboard tightly as you loom over her, then you start fucking her in earnest—with animalistic fervor. the force of your thrusts drives little gasps from her lips, her hips twitching up to meet yours.

you simply giggle at her and tease, “oh, i am? i’m just giving you—mmf, fuck—what you asked for.”

then, you roll your hips in a deep, filthy grind that alights goosebumps all across ellie’s skin. “holy sh—oh, fuck, right there! i’m sorry, j-just please don’t stop!” ellie cries while her back arches off the mattress.

”you close, sweetheart?” you coo and ellie nods her head quickly, so feverishly that you laugh at her again, “you love this, don’t you? who knew all you needed was my cock inside your little pussy? fuck, you’re shaking so much.”

you’re just about to drop your hand to her clit when—

ellie tenses. her pussy flutters around your cock, and all too quickly, a wild gush of liquid escapes her pussy, soaking your your abdomen and bedsheets. the force of her orgasm pushes your strap out of her hole, her body trembling as if she’s out in the dead of winter, her mouth open on a silent scream. her eyes roll back into her head, tongue lolling out dumbly, completely fucked out of her mind.

for a moment, you're just in awe, frozen in place at the intensity of ellie’s orgasm, basking in the warm wetness that drenched your torso. then you bring your fingers to her clit, massaging it in hard, slow circles to help her ride out the rest of her orgasm. 

it feels like her orgasm lasts minutes, hours, until ellie chokes on a sob and pushes your hand away. she lays on your bed, spread out like a starfish, while panting all the oxygen back into her lungs—lost in the white noise of her release.

(2/1/25)

[wendichester]

*slides in with rose in hand and careless whisper playing from a shitty speaker*

Hello there, my fine friend

May I request either of the winchester boys proposing to reader?

Tysm and love your blog <33

𓍯𓂃 the proposal,

summary. the winchester boys proposing to you.

pairing. dean winchester x reader ; sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 538 ; 469

notes. different scenarios that i feel like suit both boys. thank you for requesting honeypie 🩷

The air is thick with the scent of smoke and sulfur as you collapse against a tree, your chest heaving from the adrenaline crash. The hunt had been rough—brutal, even. The wendigo had been faster and smarter than expected, and you’re pretty sure you’ll feel the bruises from this fight for weeks.

Dean staggers over, shotgun slung over his shoulder, his face streaked with dirt and blood. Despite the cuts and exhaustion etched into his features, his green eyes are blazing with something you can’t quite place.

“You okay?” he asks, dropping to a crouch in front of you. His hands reach out instinctively, checking for injuries even though he knows you’ll protest.

“I’m fine,” you manage, though your voice is shaky. “Nothing a hot shower and a week of sleep won’t fix.”

He huffs a laugh, but it’s strained. His hands linger on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing against the curve of your collarbone as he stares at you. There’s a tension in his gaze, a weight that makes your heart skip a beat.

“What?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, just keeps looking at you like he’s memorizing every detail. Then he shakes his head, muttering under his breath, “Screw it.”

Before you can ask what he means, he shifts back on his heels and reaches into his jacket pocket. Your breath catches as he pulls out a small, battered box, its edges worn as though it’s been carried through hell and back.

“Dean…”

He flips the box open, revealing a simple gold ring. The sight of it makes your heart pound, the world narrowing down to just him and the unspoken words in his eyes.

“Tonight… That thing could’ve killed you,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “Hell, it could’ve killed both of us. And all I could think about was how I can’t—how I won’t—go another damn day without telling you how much you mean to me.”

You can feel tears stinging your eyes, but you don’t dare interrupt him.

“I’ve spent my whole life running from this kind of thing,” he continues, his voice softening. “But with you? It’s different. You make everything worth it, even the crap we deal with on a daily basis. You keep me grounded. You keep me… sane.”

He exhales, his hands trembling slightly as he holds the ring up. “So, I’m just gonna say it. Marry me. Not because we almost died tonight, but because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. However long that is.”

Your throat feels tight as you nod, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Of course, yes.”

Dean’s grin is instant and brilliant, the kind of smile that could light up the darkest of nights. He slips the ring onto your finger, his touch steady despite the chaos of the moment.

And then he kisses you, fierce and desperate, like he’s trying to pour every ounce of his love into that single moment.

When you pull back, the world feels a little brighter.

“Guess we’ve got a wedding to plan,” he says, his grin turning mischievous. “Think Bobby’ll walk you down the aisle?”

The evening is quiet, the kind of stillness that only the bunker can provide. You’re curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, reading one of Sam’s books. It’s one of his favorites, and though you’d teased him about its thickness when he handed it to you, you’ve found yourself completely immersed.

Sam walks into the room, his footsteps soft but deliberate. You glance up and smile when you see him, his hair slightly messy, and his flannel sleeves rolled up.

“Hey,” you say, setting the book down. “Done with your research?”

“For now,” he replies, his voice warm. “I thought I’d take a break.”

He sits next to you, close enough that your knees brush, and the familiar comfort of his presence makes your heart flutter. But there’s something different about him tonight—an energy in the way he looks at you, like he’s holding onto a secret.

You tilt your head, studying him. “What’s on your mind?”

He hesitates, a rare flicker of nerves crossing his face. Then he smiles, that shy, lopsided grin that you’ve always adored.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” he begins, his voice soft but steady.

Your curiosity piques as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small, velvet box. Your breath catches, and the world seems to slow down.

“Sam…” you whisper, your eyes widening.

He opens the box, revealing a simple but beautiful ring. The silver band gleams under the warm light, and the small diamond catches your eye, understated yet perfect—just like him.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he says, his hazel eyes locking with yours. “I never thought I’d get to have this, you know? A life where I could even imagine settling down. But then you came along, and everything changed.”

Tears prick your eyes as his words sink in.

“You’ve been my partner in everything—research, hunts, life. You’ve made me laugh when I didn’t think I could, and you’ve been there when everything felt like it was falling apart. I can’t imagine doing any of this without you.”

He takes a deep breath, his hands steady despite the emotion in his voice. “So, I guess what I’m trying to say is… Will you marry me?”

You blink back tears, your heart full to bursting. “Yes,” you say, your voice trembling but sure. “Of course, yes.”

His smile is blinding as he slips the ring onto your finger, his hands warm and gentle. The fit is perfect, just like everything about this moment.

Before you can say anything else, he cups your face and kisses you, his lips soft and full of love. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and his eyes shine with happiness.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you, too,”

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr

[nuetralizedevangelist]

❝you are the only exception.❞ || tom blyth x f!reader

request- Hi! Can I request a tom blyth x f!reader based on The Only Exception by Paramore? maybe something where that becomes their song? Thank you 🥹

A/N- this song is so depressing but i tried my hardest to romanticize it LMAO

and that was the day that i promised i would not sing for love, if it didn’t exist.

your bed is empty and cold as you roll over and stare out the window. it’s impossible to yearn for something so dearly that you don’t even want, for something you can’t have. love is the last experience you should be wanting to taste, you have your own life.

maybe i know deep in my soul that love never lasts.

you’ve had your share of flings, sure, but their touch never ignited a burning desire to be with them forever within you. they took up ten percent of your effort and time and you couldn’t care less about it.

and i’ve always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance. and up until now i’ve sworn to myself that i’m content with loneliness, because none of it was worth the risk. but you are the only exception.

till you met tom, and he moved in and dropped his bags in his mind. you met him while working on a movie and you did the makeup of his co-star, but he always found himself in your trailer. chatting and laughing away the time in between shoots that he shouldn’t have shared with you. you found yourself thinking of him when you should’ve been asleep hours ago, the way his crinkled when he laughed, and the way he always stopped and listened whenever you had something to share.

you wake up every morning excited to work, excited to see tom. you’ve began bringing two coffees in the morning- and memorizing toms order in the process. it’s almost as if your life had been in black and white until he came along and lit everything up. he ignited you and left your hands shaking and itching to reach out and touch him, not just to fix his hair but to feel him. feel how he’s real, how he’s alive, and know that your mind didn’t conjure him up to entertain yourself.

you find yourself spending time with tom outside of set, a quick coffee run, a late night conversation over dinner, or a quick phone call to ask his opinion on a dress you found at the mall.

i’ve got a tight grip on reality, but i can’t let go of what’s in front of me here. i know you’re leaving in the morning when you wake up, leave me with some kind of proof it’s not a dream.

he finds home within you, slowly creeping into your life until your brain runs on him. slowly weaseling himself into your bed. the scenarios you once used to lull yourself to sleep were in front of you for you to touch, but he never stays. you never wake up in his arms, sometimes you wonder how he estimates when he needs to go before you wake up. before you wake up and really see him, really get to know what you guys are, or what you guys aren’t.

love is a chore, you know that. it’s tiring, draining, and it even eats you up from the inside out. someone else can ruin you in a blink of an eye, no, they will ruin you in the blink of an eye. but he’s the only exception.

your sat on your floor. the air is filled with giggles and red cheeks, it smells like wine and desperation. your guitar is sitting on your lap, having played tom any song he wanted. you’ve gone through taylor swift already and you could barley get the lovely lyrics out with laughing.

the melody of paramore begins to fill the air until the walls start closing in, until you’re in a box with tom. you’ve been careful, but when he inches forward and you meet him in the middle. it was all worth the risk. because he is the only exception.

[msmorningstaarr]

guy next door | joel miller x oc (angie reed) | chapter I

ao3 | masterlist

summary: During the summer of 2003, Angie had recently moved into her parent’s new home in Austin at their guest house to have a fresh start after a nasty break up with her fiancé. Her new neighbor, Joel Miller, is more than happy to make her feel welcome to the neighborhood. pairing: joel miller x female oc (angie reed) tags: fluff, long fic, romance, slight angst eventually, oc has no physical description, oc is early 20s joel is late 20s, eventual smut, slow burn, mentions of infidelity, no outbreak au!, 2003 au!, soft joel, good daddy joel, sarah going into her teenage dirtbag phase, trust issues, domestic fluff, protective joel, eventual sex, w.c: 5.6k a.n.: so i’ve post it before but somethings were really shitty and i figured i needed to change somethings in my writing. i really hope you guys like it as much as i liked writing it. likes, comments and reblogs are not mandatory but very appreciated! 💖

“Shit…” Sarah stared at herself in the mirror, eyes wide with shock. It had happened. She bit her lip, trying desperately to think of a plan, but her mind was blank. There, on the back of her white shorts, was a red stain, impossible to ignore, especially as she was getting ready for a neighbor’s pool party. She was alone, with her dad and uncle likely out grabbing beers somewhere before the evening feast they were all supposed to attend. But even if they’d been there, Joel and Tommy would have been of no help in this situation at all.

Sarah sank onto the bathroom floor, clutching her stomach as she started to cry in confusion and a certain desperation. She had no mother to explain exactly what periods were, which pads to wear or simply comfort her in this experience. The cramps twisted hard in her abdomen, and waves of panic surged over her. Glancing back at the mirror, she put her hands over her face, already feeling defeated as she looked for some practical way to cover the growing stain. In a flash of impulse, she grabbed an old sweater from her laundry basket, tying it around her waist.

Peeking out the window, Sarah spotted a young woman across the street, carrying some boxes in front of the guest house inside the property, next to the main house. The woman looked alone and with luck, she might be kind enough to help. Sarah took a shaky breath and headed out, trying to stomp confidently but having her body allowing her no more than a slow walk outside of the house, while the girl carried the last box upstairs to her home, closing the door without seeing Sarah.

Across the street, Angie wiped the sweat from her forehead, her messy bun barely containing her damp hair as she moved the last of the boxes inside. Her parents had bought this property in Austin to be closer to her during a rough patch and to settle into a quieter life in the suburbs. Today’s scorching Texas heat seemed almost punishing, making her feel as if this exhausting day would never end. Inside, hills of boxes and scattered bubble wrap covered every corner of her new home. All she wanted was a cold shower before unwinding and unpacking in peace.

This move to Austin was supposed to be a fresh start. Angie’s engagement had ended bitterly, shattering her dreams of a future with Trey. She’d pictured marriage, a family, a life together — until he drifted away, leaving her for someone else under the cheap excuse he had to focus on his engineering career. Her parents had been nothing but supportive, and when she finally agreed to their plan to move closer, they wasted no time making it happen, but still threw some words along the line of ‘he’ll fall in line soon and will ask you back’, Angie, however, seemed determined to let Trey go once and for all. Now, standing amid all these boxes, Angie reminded herself that maybe, just maybe, this change would be good.

She let the cool water from the shower wash over her, sighing as the day’s stress melted away. The sweat and grime were replaced with the soft, clean scent of soap. She was drying off and feeling lighter when a sudden, persistent knock sounded at her door. Wrapping herself in a towel, she walked to the door, slightly annoyed.

“Mom, I said I don’t–” she began, opening the door, but paused when she saw a young girl standing there. The girl’s face was flushed, her fingers fidgeting nervously over her belly. She looked no older than thirteen. Angie raised her eyebrows, slightly concerned.

“Oh, hi sweetie,” she said gently, leaning against the doorframe.

“H-hi… I’m Sarah,” the girl stammered as she looked down, clearly embarrassed.

“How can I help you, kiddo?” Angie asked, folding her arms, her voice softening.

“I… I’m having… issues,” Sarah muttered, glancing down, her dark skinned cheeks turning pink. Angie paused, sensing what the problem might be but waiting for Sarah to say it herself.

“Issues?” Angie asked, tilting her head with a gentle smile.

“Yeah…” Sarah bit her lip, hesitating. “Girl issues?”

“You got your period, huh?” Angie asked, her voice warm with understanding. She smiled and rolled her eyes in sympathy. “Come on in, honey. I’m Angie, by the way.”

Sarah’s face lit up with relief, though her eyes still held a trace of sadness and uncertainty. “Thank you,” she whispered, grateful for the kindness of this stranger who had quickly become her lifeline.

“Don’t mind the mess, ‘just moved in,” Angie walked towards her bedroom as she loudly spoke, finding some tanktop and shorts to wear after showering herself.

“No troubles.” Sarah replied, standing still, once she was scared she would leave some stain in Angie’s couch. As soon as Angie returned, Sarah peeked at the older girl carrying a bag and having a towel wrapped around her head.

“Did your mom ever talk to you about periods?” She asked, placing the pink small bag over the table. Sarah narrowed her eyes, feeling an involuntary urge to cry as she heard the word “mom”. She never gave much thought to her mom or the fact she left her and Joel to live a dutiless life, but this new change in her body brought her new emotions that Sarah couldn’t fathom of where it came from. Her eyes teared up, triggered by that simple sentence and Angie looked at the child, concerned she said something she wasn’t supposed to.

“Oh, honey,” Angie murmured, realizing she had touched a nerve. She placed a comforting hand on Sarah’s shoulder, guiding her to the couch, where they sat together. “I’m so sorry if I said something that hurt you,” she said softly. “Look, why don’t we start by going through a few basics? I brought some things that might help. This little guy,” she said, pointing to a pad. “is going to be your new best friend for a few days each month. It might seem strange at first, but everyone’s been through it. I’ll walk you through how to use it. And, just so you know, cramps and weird feelings can come with the territory, too. That’s what these tablets are for, they’ll help with the stomach aches.”

Sarah’s eyes flickered to the chocolate bar, and Angie chuckled, nudging it towards her. “Chocolate helps too. I promise.”

A faint smile crossed Sarah’s lips, and she reached for the bar, unwrapping it slowly. “Thanks,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“No problem,” Angie replied, her tone light. “Periods can be damn bad, especially the first time. But once you get the hang of it, you’ll see it’s just a part of life.”

Sarah took a deep breath, her gaze focused on the pad as she tried to ignore the ache in her stomach. Angie handed it to her, explaining how it would attach to her underwear, going through the steps carefully but casually to keep things light. Once Sarah seemed to understand, Angie gently squeezed her shoulder. Sarah took a bite of chocolate, letting the sweetness calm her. She looked down at the pads on the table, still feeling a bit lost. “It’s just… I don’t know anything about this stuff,” she admitted, twisting the wrapper nervously. “I didn’t even know it would… hurt like this.”

“Y’know,” Angie added, showing her Texan accent. “it’s perfectly okay to feel whatever you’re feeling right now. Sad, scared, or even mad. ‘S a big change, and it can be a lot to take in. But I promise, it gets easier.”

“Does it? My belly hurts real bad now.” Sarah replied, pouting her lips as she pressed some heat from her hands over her abdomen. Angie laughed faintly and caressed the girl’s long curls.

“It does, sweetie,” Angie said, still patting her hair. “But there’ll be times you’ll be dying for your period to come.”

Sarah looked at Angie puzzled at face and then, Angie realized she was talking to a thirteen year old who had no idea of what she was talking about. “In a few years you’ll understand, kiddo.” She completed, grabbing her chin and Sarah shrugged.

“What about these?” Sarah asked, getting a long tampon in her hands, horrified by its size. “Do you put this like… right there?”

Angie crossed her arms after scratching her eyebrows and smiling briefly amongst the mess in her living room. “Yeah… this one might be too much for you now, kiddo. Let’s keep on the tampons for now, ‘kay?”

“Thanks,” Sarah said, her face relaxing a little. She glanced again at the tampon on the table, her curiosity lingering, but it was comforting to know she didn’t have to figure it all out right away.

“Anytime,” Angie replied, giving her a reassuring smile. “Y’can lay down in my bedroom. ‘S the only place is not full of boxes, I’ll get the heating pad warm for you.”

Meanwhile, Joel and Tommy strolled home beneath the relentless sun, the cold coming from the beer packs offering a welcome chill against their chests. The day was blazing, and they were more than ready to kick back and enjoy the afternoon ahead. “I was talkin’ with Herschel at the liquor store and he talked about this cute lil’ thing living right across the street,” Tommy said, waiting for Joel to open the front door. Joel remained silent, not giving too much thought about it. He had dated a few ladies in the past, but none worked out for him. For now, he was solely focused on raising Sarah.

“Tell me ‘bout that,” he replied, pretending to be interested in his brother’s typical womanizing chatter as he turned the key in the lock.

As they stepped inside, Joel paused, immediately noticing the unusual quiet that filled the house. The TV was off, and there was no trace of Sarah bustling around or playing music like she often did. Joel’s eyes drifted up the stairs, figuring she was probably in her room, getting ready for the neighbor’s pool party. He shrugged it off, glancing at Tommy, who raised an eyebrow in silent question.

“I saw her carrying loads of boxes into that house that belonged to that Thomas family who moved away to Arizona,” Tommy continued, getting into Joel’s home as he opened the door. “Guess that means she’s new to the neighborhood. What an eye-candy, all sweaty, beautiful legs, cute smile.”

Joel shrugged as he dropped his keys onto the table. “New neighbors, huh? That’s nice, I guess.” He walked into the living room, his mind still half-focused on Sarah and her quiet absence.

“C’mon, man! You should at least check her out!” Tommy urged, following Joel into the room. “Could be a good distraction for you.”

Joel shot him a look, half-amused and half-annoyed. “Not interested, Tommy. I’ve got enough on my plate right now.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t hurt to make some friends,” Tommy countered, a smirk spreading across his face. “Especially if they have those pretty legs like the new neighbor.”

Joel shook his head, unable to suppress a smile despite himself. “You’re an asshole.” He couldn’t help but appreciate Tommy’s enthusiasm, even if he had no intention of pursuing anything beyond his responsibilities. “Let’s just focus on getting ready for the party.” He said, trying to redirect the conversation. He called out for Sarah, raising his voice slightly. “Sarah!”

There was no response. He frowned and glanced toward the stairs, hearing only silence echoing back at him. “Hey, Sarah! You up there?” he tried again, a hint of concern creeping into his voice as he made his way toward the stairs.

Tommy followed him, still grinning. “She’s probably just taking her sweet time,” he said, crossing his arms. “You know how girls can be. Maybe she’s trying on every outfit she has.”

Joel roamed the second floor of his house, checking for his daughter. Looked inside his and her bedroom, the bathroom, nothing. A pang of worry fell upon Joel. “Tommy, check if Sarah’s downstairs!” Joel asked, yelling from the second floor as he went down the stairs. Tommy nodded, a hint of seriousness now creeping into his playful demeanor. He sprinted to the bottom of the stairs and looked around the living room. “Sarah! You down here?” he shouted, but only silence responded.

Joel reached the last step, his heart racing a little faster as he glanced around. “Sarah!” he called again, his voice laced with concern. “Where are you?”

He walked into the living room, scanning every corner, and then turned toward the kitchen, thinking she might be grabbing a snack. The kitchen was empty, too. Joel felt a knot tighten in his chest.

“Maybe she’s outside?” Tommy suggested, moving toward the back door. “You know how kids like to hang out in the yard when they think no one’s watching.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Joel replied, trying to push away the worry gnawing at him. As Tommy opened the door and stepped outside, Joel followed close behind. The bright sun hit him, and he squinted, scanning the backyard for any sign of his daughter.

“Sarah!” Tommy called out again, his voice carrying over the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Still no answer. Joel stepped further onto the patio, a sinking feeling settling deeper in his gut.

“Let’s check the front,” Joel suggested, feeling the need to cover all bases. As they moved around the house to the front yard, he felt an unsettling sense of urgency. “If she’s not in the backyard, she could have gone to the Adler’s or something.”

“Sarah!” Joel called out, stepping onto the porch and peering inside. “Are you in there?”

Just as he was about to knock, a voice floated back to him, a familiar voice, but tinged with uncertainty. “I’m here!” Sarah replied, her tone brightening with relief.

Joel exchanged a quick glance with Tommy, both of them relaxing slightly. They saw Sarah coming downstairs from the neighbor’s home with a girl next to her, stepping slowly as she carried a heating pad over her belly. “What’s going on, kiddo?” Joel asked, breathing relieved as he saw his daughter safe and sound, but puzzled as to why his daughter had brought a heating pad on the hottest day of June.

“Uh… hey,” Angie said, extending her hand at Joel, who shook hands with her briefly and mainly focusing on Sarah’s well-being. “My name’s Angie, I’m your new neighbor livin’ ‘cross the street. I’d take it easy on her, uh… she’s gone through a bit too much this last hour.”

“Um… hi Angie, thanks for watching her, I’m Joel.” Joel said, trying to be as polite as possible. “As for you, going out without my permission and disturbing the new neighbors Sarah, c’mon…” he finished, rolling his eyes.

“No, dad, you don’t get it…” Sarah said, trying to reason with Joel.

“Yeah, good luck with that, miss,” Tommy chimed in, his hands shoved into his pockets as he tried to disguise a laugh at the father-daughter exchange.

“She was actually looking for help,” Angie interjected, sensing the tension. “Sarah needed someone to talk to about… well, girl stuff. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.” Joel raised an eyebrow, momentarily confused. He exchanged a glance with Tommy, who seemed just as puzzled.

Angie approached them, holding out a bag filled with toiletries. “Hate to be the messenger, but your daughter went through, um… the change,” she said, her tone gentle but matter-of-fact.

Joel’s heart sank, and he felt like being hit like a ton of bricks as his cheeks grew red of embarrassment. He looked from Angie to Sarah, who stood there with a mixture of shame and vulnerability. “Oh,” he said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You mean…”

“Yeah, I got my period,” Sarah admitted, her voice annoyed. “I didn’t know what to do, and Angie helped me.”

Tommy, realizing the gravity of the moment, stopped his teasing and looked at Sarah with an unexpected seriousness. “Hey kiddo, don’t feel bad” he said, trying to lighten the mood, but his tone was respectful. “You’re not alone in this.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, annoyance flooding her cheeks as she hid her face in her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she muttered, wishing she could just disappear.

Joel took a deep breath, processing everything. “I’m glad you had someone to talk to, Sarah,” he said, his protective instincts kicking in. “But you should have come to me. I can help too.”

“No, Dad, you can’t! Ugh!” Sarah exclaimed, exasperation lacing her words. “You don’t understand! It’s just... embarrassing. Ugh! Nobody gets me!”

Angie watched the exchange, sensing the emotional intensity of the moment. She looked at Joel, unsure of how to proceed from there. This was clearly a delicate situation, and she wanted to offer support without overstepping. Tommy, sensing the need for space, quietly stepped back inside the house, leaving Sarah and Joel alone and closed the door behind him, allowing the father and daughter to have their moment without distraction.

“Sarah, honey, I think that you shouldn’ talk to your dad like this.” Angie said, with a soft voice as her heavy southern accent was shown. “I tell you that, go home and rest, take these with you.” Angie completed her sentence, giving Joel the sack of feminine products.

“Go home and rest. Sometimes just lying down for a bit can help. And if you need to talk, ’m right across the street,” she added, her tone reassuring.

Sarah hesitated, glancing at the items in Angie’s hand. “Thanks, I guess. But it’s just… weird.”

Angie chuckled lightly. “‘S part of life sweetie, in time things will settle.”

Joel nodded in agreement. “Angie’s right, kiddo. And I promise, it’s not as scary as it seems. Just remember, it’s a normal part of life.”

“You know nothing, dad,” Sarah hit back, rolling her eyes. Feeling the weight of their words, the girl took a deep breath. “Okay, okay. I’ll take them.” She reached out and accepted the items, a small smile breaking through her earlier frustration. “Thanks, Angie.”

“Anytime, sweet pea,” Angie replied, her voice filled with sincerity. “And if you need anything else, just knock on my door. Seriously.”

With a final glance between them, Sarah felt a little more at ease. “Alright, I’m heading home. I guess I can rest and NO PARTY for us!”

Sarah turned to walk away, speaking in a loud, grumpy and bossy tone. Joel grinned and scratched his eyes before looking at Angie more carefully. The girl was indeed a cute little thing with her hair humid and wavy, her features so delicate and feminine that it became almost impossible to not notice her. Her lips were also perfectly shaped. He couldn’t deny, she really was an eye-candy just like Tommy said, but he was quick to send these thoughts away.

“Uh… I had no chance to say thank you. You’re probably full of stuff to do and-...” Joel said, strangely clumsy around the girl before she interrupted him. Angie, on the other hand, found Joel really attractive with his broad shoulders and messy curls, covered in sweat. However, she was also quick to shoo these thoughts away, once she didn’t want to suffer from another bad relationship. For now, Angie wanted to take care of herself. “How much all the… uh, lady products,” he scoffed, oddly timid. “Costed?”

She chuckled gently, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Hey, don’t worry ‘bout that. I’ve been in her place back in the day, it’s tough. Besides, she’s a peach so don’t worry about a thing ‘kay? Face this as a gift from a new neighbor.”

Joel beamed, proud from the education he gave to his daughter. “Yeah but, uh… will she always be this cranky? She was this sweet little girl just yesterday and now looks like a monster swallowed my daughter.”

Angie raised her eyebrows, laughing. “You’ll learn how to handle it just in time. My old man took a while to get used to it too.”

Joel laughed faintly, ignoring the sun towering them. “Y’know what? Why don’t you join us for dinner? The party I’d go to is ruined now so I have loads of beer untouched. I’m no chef but I could cook somethin’ nice. Just a way to say thank you for taking care of my baby girl.”

“I don’t wanna bother anyone, Joel. Really…” Angie said, with a sincere expression.

“C’mon, I insist. You went out of your way to take care of a kid you barely knew.” Joel beamed, crossing his arms.

Angie sighed and smiled as she scratched her eyebrows, nodding her head reluctantly. “Alright, fine. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Not at all, sweetheart.” Joel said, leaving a thrill down Angie’s spine as soon as he called her by a term of endearment. “See ya.”

“See ya.” Angie said, going back to her house.

—

Angie closed the door behind her, biting her lips as her mind recollected the last moments with Sarah’s dad. He was a nice guy, your regular guy next door: talk, muscular, kind, handsome, charming and seemingly a good father. Joel seemed to be a perfect guy for Angie on paper and she couldn’t deny the instant attraction she felt for him as soon as she laid her eyes on him. Although, at the same time, Angie was still mourning the end of her relationship with Trey and everything he could be with her, it ached her heart knowing he was already engaged to a girl who apparently wanted the same things as him. Angie needed to learn how to be alone and get back on her feet first and then, she would think about dating someone else.

Later that evening, Angie started prepping for the dinner Joel had invited her to. She didn’t want to overdress, but she also didn’t want to show up looking like she hadn’t given it any thought. She opted for a simple, casual dress, something comfortable but flattering. As she checked herself in the mirror one last time, Angie took a deep breath.

As she walked to Joel’s home across the street, she felt a slight shame since she couldn’t prepare any meal for the dinner, since her kitchen wasn’t set up yet. The fresh evening air helped to settle her nerves, though, and by the time she reached his door, she felt more at ease. She rang the bell and a few seconds later, Joel opened the door. His expression softened as he saw her, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“Glad you came,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Thanks again for inviting me,” Angie replied, stepping over the threshold. “Sorry for not bringing anything, my kitchen isn’t set up yet.”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, sweetie, you’re our guest,” Joel’s place was cozy and welcoming, a blend of his laid-back personality and something subtly protective. The aroma of a home-cooked meal lingered in the air, and Angie felt an unexpected pang of nostalgia for moments like this.

“Oh it smells good for sure,” Angie said, laughing as she walked inside his house. “Your house is beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you darlin’, I made ‘few pieces from the furniture,” he said, placing his hand over the thick wood on the counter.”

Angie widened her eyes, surprised as she looked at the fine wooden mobilia. “How talented. Are you a carpenter?”

“Contractor. Me and my brother, Tommy. The one you saw earlier.” He said, sitting on the couch alongside Angie, who adjusted the skirt of her dress as she sat comfortably on.

“Well, my parents will definitely need your services one of these days,” she said, glancing upstairs with a subtle curiosity for any sign of Sarah.

"Oh, really?" Joel arched a brow in surprise, a soft smile pulling at his lips. "Thinking about renovations already, darlin'?"

"Well, sorta," she chuckled. "They’re letting me stay in the guest house for a while. ‘S temporary, just until they settle into the main place and decide what to do with it. It’s… a nice way for me to get back on my feet too.”

Joel nodded thoughtfully. “That’s great. It’s hard to find good places that feel like home right away, you know? Sounds like they’re lookin’ out for you.”

“Yeah, I think so,” she replied, smiling softly as she glanced around his house again. “Funny enough, this neighborhood already feels a little like home.”

"'S a nice neighborhood to live in," Joel agreed, his voice soft. "Very peaceful, just good folks all around. Just a shame I’ll have to get used to not seeing you here eventually."

Angie’s cheeks flushed, and she felt a flutter in her chest at his words. "Well, thank you, but I wouldn’t worry too much. I’ll stick around a while." She chuckled. "Had to leave my ol’ job in Dalla to make this move.”

Joel’s eyebrows raised in surprise. "Dallas, huh? That’s a big shift."

“Yeah,” she replied with a shrug. "My folks thought it’d be a good time for me to slow down a bit… and I think they’re right. But it’s a whole new chapter."

Joel nodded. "Big change, but you’ll fit in just fine here. And who knows, maybe we can convince you to stay longer than you’re planning." He shot her a warm, playful look, letting the words hang with a hint of invitation. “I know for a fact that Sarah was already talking ‘bout how cool you are.”

Angie laughed, letting the ease of his company make her feel even more at home. "Well, don’t go making offers like that. I just might take you up on it." She met his gaze, feeling a spark pass between them that was both comforting and scary.

“Dad!” Sarah’s voice echoed as she bounded down the stairs, breaking the quiet warmth that had settled between Joel and Angie.

Joel straightened, glancing over at Angie with a quick, sheepish smile before turning to Sarah. "Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Hey Angie, you came.” Sarah said, greeting the older girl with a tight embrace, which Angie accepted just fine.

“I see you got better, my dear.” Angie said, releasing the girl from her arms.

Sarah nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m good now,” she said, flashing a shy smile toward Angie. “Thanks for... you know, helping me out.”

Angie smiled warmly. “Anytime, Sarah. You’ve got this.”

“We were just waitin’ for you, baby. Let’s go before the dinner gets cold,” Joel said, guiding the girls towards the kitchen. Angie felt a quiet warmth settle over her as she realized how rare and precious connections like this could be. It was something she hadn't felt in a long time. As the evening wore on, a gentle silence settled between them, one that didn’t feel the least bit awkward or demanding.

“So, Angie,” Joel began after swallowing a bite of his steak. “You were tellin’ me you had to find a new job in the city. What d’you work with, darlin’?”

“I’m a hairdresser.” Angie replied as she had a sip of her beer, watching Sarah’s eyes widening as she spoke.

“That’s so cool! You could do my hair like Janet Jackson’s sometime!” The girl said, excitedly.

“Kiddo, let’s not abuse from the good will of Angie,” Joel scratched his beard, slightly shy for her behavior. Either way, he had to admit it was cute to see his girl so excited over someone, he figured that Angie could be a good influence on her just for the short amount of time they spent together.

"Relax, we can arrange that, honey," Angie reassured, giving Sarah a warm smile. "But, between us? I think your natural curls are way prettier. Had a friend in beauty school, she had these beautiful curls, all big and curly like yours," Angie said, eating a piece of vegetable quickly. “She taught me ‘few things. I can show you how to make your hair even prettier.”

“Thanks, Angie,” Sarah replied, with a soft smile.

Joel nodded, watching Sarah’s confidence grow under their attention. "Don’t you have a friend whose mom works at that hair salon downtown, darlin’?” he asked, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

Sarah nodded as she took a sip of her juice. “Yeah, Ellie’s mom,” she replied, glancing up curiously.

Joel raised an eyebrow, casting a quick look at Angie. “Well, maybe next time you’re over there, you can mention Angie to her mom. She’s lookin’ for a job.”

Angie’s eyes widened, her surprise quickly melting into a smile. “Oh, Joel, you don’t have to do that,” she said, though she was clearly touched by his thoughtfulness.

"Sure I do,” he replied warmly. "Good folks ought to help each other out. Besides, Sarah’s got the inside track on the best stylist in town now.”

Sarah grinned, clearly pleased to be involved in a conversation that felt almost grown-up, as though she were part of some small conspiracy between them. She looked from Joel to Angie, excitement dancing in her eyes. “I can do that!”

Angie laughed softly. "Guess I better thank you both then,” she said, her gaze meeting Joel’s with appreciation.

Joel shrugged, his voice warm. “Like I said, just lookin' out for good people.” Angie smiled tenderly at Joel, nodding at him in a silent gratefulness.

As the evening went on, laughter and conversation flowed easily, but eventually a comfortable silence settled around them, a stillness that didn’t need to be filled. They shared small smiles across the table, each appreciating the peace that came with the evening. Sarah eventually fell asleep as they watched a random movie on the TV. Joel glanced at Angie, his gaze steady and kind, as though he, too, was almost surrendering himself to sleep.

“Oh, guess someone fell asleep,” Angie murmured with a soft smile as she noticed Sarah’s eyelids drooping. Joel smiled silently, reaching to lift his daughter in his arms.

“She’s always like that,” he whispered, his voice warm as he carried Sarah upstairs, cradling her gently. Angie followed quietly, watching as Joel carefully tucked Sarah into bed, smoothing the duvet around her with a tenderness that softened his rough edges. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before turning back to Angie, who stood by the doorway, watching the scene with a softened gaze.

Once they stepped into the hallway, Angie took a breath, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Well… I guess I should get going,” she said, gathering her things with a polite smile.

But as she stood there, a small pang of sadness flickered in her chest, remembering memories of promises that once meant the world to her. Trey had once promised he’d be there to tuck their future kids into bed every night, and for a moment, Angie felt the ache of his absence more sharply than usual. She missed the life she had once imagined, even if she couldn’t quite say it out loud.

Joel’s voice broke her reverie, low and inviting. “You should stay. Have a beer with me,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on hers as he gently closed Sarah’s bedroom door behind him.

Angie smiled, her heart lifting despite herself. “Thank you, Joel. But maybe we could both use a good rest tonight,” she replied softly, her southern accent wrapping around the words in a way that felt warm, even comforting.

Joel tilted his head, his own accent thickening as he spoke. “Fair enough,” he said, a hint of warmth in his voice. “Feels like we’ve known each other longer than just a day,” he said softly, a faint smile touching his lips.

Angie met his gaze, her own smile forming. “Yeah, it does. Funny how that happens sometimes, isn’t it?”

Joel nodded, his eyes warm. “Guess it’s not every day you find someone who just… fits.” He looked down, almost shy, before adding, “Or who’s willing to help out a clueless dad in the middle of all this.”

Angie laughed softly. “You’re not clueless at all, Joel. And besides, I don’t mind bein’ around to help, if you’ll let me.”

Joel’s smile deepened, a look of quiet gratitude passing over his face. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Angie’s gaze lingered on Joel, her heart fluttering with an unexpected warmth. Just one day into her new life in the suburbs of Austin, and here she was, falling for a man’s charm with the same ease that had always led her to trouble. She felt like that naive girl once more, melting under his sweet talk, the magnetic pull between them undeniable yet unsettling. But she shook her head slightly, a small frown creasing her brow. Angie knew she had to exercise some discipline in her thoughts, because she knew well that right there, she was being the same needy girl that she was trying to leave behind. It was easy to get swept up in the moment, but she couldn’t forget the reasons she had moved away from Dallas. This new beginning was about rebuilding herself away from her past and the disappointment of Trey.

“I should probably get going,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction as they stood by the door. “You know, get some rest and all.”

Joel nodded, a hint of reluctance in his expression. “Sure, but you’re welcome here anytime. I mean it. Sarah could use a friend like you, and so could I.” His sincerity made her heart ache with possibility. ‘Friendship, Angie. That’s all he wants from you.’, that’s what Angie tried to repeat in her mind like a mantra.

Angie took a deep breath, grounding herself. “G’night, Joel.” She said, walking away from the Miller’s door, walking towards hers across the street.

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 7

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: eeeek I’ve had parts of this one in the drafts for AGES the middle section has been drafted for at least a month I swear and I’ve been sitting on it like 🧍‍♀️ waiting to share it. I think this is my favorite part so far (but not my fav overall 🥰)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Masterlist)

Your day had been shit. Ever since that godsawful date Mor ambushed you with last night, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering about Azriel and Nesta’s date. What they were doing, how things were going, if she was making him laugh.

Hell, you couldn’t stop thinking about their date while on your own date. The guy was good looking, and he wasn’t terrible, but there was nothing there between you two.

He also was very into cryptocurrency, a topic that quickly took over the conversation at dinner. A topic you did not encourage him to continue on. He somehow didn’t get that memo, insisting on walking you up towards the doors of your building when he was dropping you off, where you had made a lame excuse about going to bed early before ducking into your building.

You had followed the same path Azriel took only moments ago, continuing on to your own apartment. You open the door, finding a note on the fridge in Cassian’s messy scrawl.

Have fun.

He drew a winky face, and then several crude drawings on the post-it. The drawings made you groan, Cassian’s enthusiasm for your date further solidifying your nonexistent chance with his brother.

Of course Cassian would have Mor set you up after he found out about your little crush on his brother. You felt so stupid when you saw Nesta on their couch earlier today. You hardly spoke to Rhysand on the way to lab, your thoughts too flooded with how terribly you had read the whole situation.

Cassian probably told Mor all about your dumb crush and got her to fix you up tonight. Maybe Azriel had even mentioned your text to Cassian, asking him what to do about the annoying roommate who developed a crush on his brother.

Your chest hurts, but it was just a silly crush. You’ll get over it.

Eventually.

-

Azriel stood in the elevator, waiting for the doors to close as he looked at his phone, looking at the last message you had sent him Friday morning.

Wanna grab lunch tomorrow?

He hadn’t answered, his phone having been on silent all day to focus on finishing his work for the next week and the reception in the library not allowing messages to come through. He hadn’t seen the message until he woke up this morning, the timestamp seeming cruel.

Now he stares at it and wants to throw his phone. Missed opportunities, he supposes. But what would this lunch have looked like since you’re dating that dickhead from last night? Would you have had to reject him outright?

He can see your face contort in a smile as you tell him, “oh no, Az, I’m seeing someone.” Then you’d probably laugh about it with the dickhead.

He runs his hands down his face when he hears someone yelling, “hold the elevator please!” He juts out an arm on instinct, not noticing who it is. He sees you slip inside, the doors bumping against his arm, bringing him back to reality as he looks down at you.

Fuck.

A light scent of oranges fills the elevator, and he notes it’s likely from your shampoo. He pulls his arm from the door, allowing them to close, locking the two of you in the metal box.

You look up at him, eyes going wide, cheeks heating in embarrassment at the close proximity. You’re standing right in front of him, and you can smell his cologne, a scent of night-chilled air and cedar filling your nose. You take deep breaths, telling yourself that it’s okay, it was just a little crush.

On a very pretty, smart, and very kind guy.

Who smelled incredible.

You look down at your feet, unsure how to speak to him now that you knew he was dating Nesta. And not wanting to further embarrass yourself by flirting with him.

Gods, this was how you were going to die, you think, shuffling to lean against the rail. Azriel’s voice puts a halt to the spiraling of your thoughts.

“Nice date last night?” Azriel asks, trying not to let whatever he’s feeling bubble up. Your eyebrows shoot up, unaware of Azriel even knowing about your date.

Of course he knows, you think, Cassian probably told him he’d handle it.

“He spent the while night telling me about stocks and crypto and how he wants to be in Forbes 30 under 30,” you scoffed, “so no, it was not nice.”

The elevator starts moving, and his eyebrows shoot up. “So that wasn’t your boyfriend?”

You scoff, “hell no. Mor ambushed me yesterday. She told me to get dressed up and we’d go out and have a fun girl’s night, but when I showed up she texted me that she set me up instead.

“The worst part is Mor was so confident that she told Cassian about it, so he had stayed at her place last night to give me ‘privacy’. He even left crude drawings around the apartment to help the ‘atmosphere’.”

Azriel laughs as the elevator dings for the third floor. He feels his chest lighten, knowing you definitely weren’t seeing anyone. “Mor’s always been ambitious, hasn’t she?”

You laugh. “Maybe it was just a ploy for her to have sex with Cassian.”

You say it, but you know it’s not true. The real truth was they wanted to put you out there, help you get over the beautiful man standing next to you. They knew you didn’t have a shot, especially compared to Nesta. You’re brought back to reality, and decide to hurt yourself further.

“How was your date with Nesta?” You ground out, after a pause in your conversation. You needed to know so you can completely cut off your feelings for him. You needed him to pierce you with the final dagger.

His eyebrows arch up, and he looks at your expression.

Were you upset? You won’t meet his gaze, and you’re clenching your fists. Were you - jealous?

His mouth curls up at the thought, “uh it wasn’t a date. Nesta and I study together every Thursday night. We take a lot of the same classes. We did it last night instead because she was busy on Thursday.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, “so you’re not dating Nesta?”

He laughs, “absolutely not. No that’s an avenue I’d never go down. But there is some-“

His words die as you hear a screeching sound and the elevator stops completely, leaving you two stranded somewhere between the first and second floors.

“No - no, no, no.”

You start freaking out - elevators always gave you a bit of concern, their small dimensions making you feel cramped. You hit the button to open the door, jamming it with your finger. Realizing that it was fruitless, You pull out your phone only to remember that the elevator always has no service.

“Fuck,” you mumble, and your breaths start coming faster and faster, and you’re trying to remember your calming techniques, when you feel cold hands gently grab your cheeks.

“Hey, look at me.”

You look up, finding hazel eyes looking back at you. They’re etched with concern, not a trace of mockery in them.

“We’re okay. Breathe with me, can you do that?”

He grabs one of your hands, placing it on his chest so you can feel his breaths as they come in and out. Your eyes stay trained on his, not wanting to look away, wanting to get lost in the gold flecks you find there.

You start following the rhythm of his breaths, but he keeps talking to you in a soothing tone. You’re too focused on breathing to register what he’s saying, but you do register the soothing tone he’s speaking to you in. You could get lost in his voice, its deep timbre a melody in your ears.

Eventually you come back down enough to focus on what he’s saying and he’s telling you about his night - everything he did yesterday.

“Rhys texted me to get some trash bags on my way in, which is where I was coming from when I pulled up and found you with crypto douche.”

You smile, your first real reaction to his words since the elevator stopped.

“There she is,” he says, his finger tapping your cheek, “wanna tell me more about crypto douche?”

“He wants to be a landlord.”

Azriel snorts, “of course he does.”

“I didn’t even want to go on this date,” your eyes stay locked with his, the golden flecks calming you down. “But Mor has been begging me to go out with this guy for ages, and then she finally decided to ambush me by forcing it on me.”

“You know you can tell Mor “no”. It’s a complete sentence.”

“I know,” you sigh, “but she loves playing matchmaker, even though she’s awful at it. Usually once every other month I let her set me up, but she was just throwing a tantrum I wouldn’t let her set me up this time once I figured out the rouse.”

He doesn’t let himself linger on the fact that you haven’t let her set you up since meeting him. Coincidence, maybe. “Have any of them been successful?”

You blow out a breath, “uh, no. Usually I stay for an hour then leave. None of them have ever gotten a second date.” You pause, thinking. “In the words of the great philosopher of our time, “I’m a pathological people pleaser,” you chuckle.

“And who said that?”

“…. Taylor Swift.”

He looks at you, a chuckle on his breath, such tenderness in his gaze it shocks you a bit. “You should stand up for yourself more.”

“I’m… not really sure how. It’s kind of new to me.”

You look at your feet, but he taps your chin so you’ll look at him again. “I stood up to my parents, and it was the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

You had tiptoed around the topic since your admission to Cassian the day you moved in, the wound still too raw to discuss with anyone other than Feyre. Mor knew some of the details, but not the whole story. You’re sure Rhys and Az knew that something happened with your parents, but you never let them know too much about it.

They didn’t know that your parents had told you that you became everything they had tried to avoid. That, despite everything they did for you, you didn’t turn out right.

You hadn’t told Mor because you knew she would have burnt down their house with them in it.

“It was scary, moving here with a guy I hardly knew.” His grip on you tightens slightly, and he’s hanging onto every word you say.

“But I don’t regret it. Not even when Cassian wakes me up at 6 AM with his singing.”

He chuckles, and he stills as you look into his eyes, your voice clear and strong.

“I don’t… I don’t regret any of it. I don’t regret meeting you.”

His hands are still cupped on your face, his face mere inches from your own. Your confession hangs in the air as you two look at each other, and he leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

Your breathing hitches, but not because you’re stuck.

He opens his mouth to reply, but the elevator comes back to life, moving downwards again. It startles both of you into jumping away from each other, and you clear your throat.

“Where are- where are you going?” You ask, gesturing towards his helmet.

“Oh, uh Cassian forgot his lunch and doesn’t have time to grab anything between clients. I was going to bring him something.”

The air is lighter between you two, and Azriel feels like he can breathe you in again. The fog of confusion has lifted between you two, leaving you to be seen clearly by him.

“Do you want to get lunch?”

He echos your previous text message to him, and you nod.

“Yeah I’d love that.”

You stroll through the lobby, putting as much distance between the falter elevator and yourselves. Once you make it to the parking lot, Azriel places his spare helmet on your head, tapping the top of it lightly affectionately.

You zip your jacket up as Azriel gets on the bike first, his thighs straddling the seat. He holds the bike steady, allowing you to place your hands on his shoulders for balance, letting go of your fears as you swing your leg around to straddle the bike behind him. Your body leans against his, wrapping around him, holding onto him.

You place your head on his back, your fingers clutching onto his jacket. It feels new, electricity crackling through every inch of you that is in contact with him, despite the layers and helmets that separate you.

He chuckles at the gasp you let out when you two start moving, how your hands hold onto his jacket a little tighter than before.

He pulls a hand away to place it gently on one of the hands you have clutched to his jacket, squeezing three times before moving his hand back.

[goldenversekook]

OFF LIMITS

Part 5: “Yours”Pairing: Jungkook × Reader (Y/N)Genre: Angst | Fluff | Secret Romance | HealingRating: 🔞 18+ (mature themes, emotional intimacy, soft smut)

It had been three days since your brother found out.

Three days of silence. No calls. No texts.Just a gaping hole where your relationship used to be.

Jungkook had given you space. He hadn’t pushed, hadn’t crowded you—just left you in his apartment with blankets, takeout, and gentle kisses when you needed them. He knew you were hurting.

So was he.

You were lying in his bed, his hoodie drowning your body, staring at the ceiling when he walked in with two mugs of tea.

He handed you one and sat beside you, quiet for a moment.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded, but your voice cracked. “I miss him.”

“I know.”

You set your mug down. “He’s not just my brother, Jungkook. He’s always been… my best friend too.”

Jungkook wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“And I took that from you,” he said, guilt in his voice. “I should’ve never let it go this far without talking to him. I just—”

You tilted your head up. “I don’t regret this.”

He looked at you, surprise flickering in his eyes.

“I miss him,” you whispered. “But I don’t regret you. Not for a second.”

He leaned his forehead against yours. “I swear I’d do it all differently if I could. I’d ask him first. I’d make it right.”

You smiled sadly. “We can’t undo it.”

“No,” he said quietly. “But we can move forward.”

You paused. “How?”

Jungkook took a deep breath. “Let me show you something.”

He got up, reached into his drawer, and pulled out a small black box.

Your heart skipped.

He handed it to you—not dramatic, not flashy, just him being real.

Inside was a simple silver chain with a charm: a tiny letter “J.”

“I was gonna wait,” he said, watching your face. “But screw it. I want you to know I’m serious. This isn’t just hooking up or sneaking around. I’m yours. If you want me.”

Your throat tightened. You looked up at him, eyes shining. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Jungkook leaned in, kissing you slowly—different from the hungry, reckless kisses before. This one was soft, full of unspoken promises.

You ended up back in bed, limbs tangled under the sheets, his body warm and grounding on top of yours. His hands explored like he was learning you all over again—not rushed, not desperate. Just… real.

“I love you,” he whispered as he slid into you, holding your face in his hands. “Even if the whole world’s against us. You’re mine.”

You pulled him closer, your voice breaking. “I’m yours, Jungkook. All of me.”

You moved together slowly, like this was the first time. And maybe it was.

The first time with nothing to hide.

Later, as you lay against his chest, his fingers tracing soft lines on your back, you whispered:

“What if he never forgives us?”

Jungkook kissed your forehead. “Then I’ll keep showing him that loving you didn’t mean betraying him.”

You exhaled.

You weren’t sure how long it would take to fix things—but for now, you had each other. And somehow, that made it easier to breathe.

[1thesewordsaremyown1]

Nothing Has Changed (Or Has It?)

I figured it's finally time to stop lurking and actually post some of my work on tumblr and not just ao3. Inspired by the rumours going around about what might be happening in 8x11

Read on ao3 or below

Buck stared desolately at the mess of boxes littering the floor in his new house.  Eddie’s house.  No, his house.  It just might take a while for it to feel that way, that’s all.  While all of the large furniture was in place, he still had to go through and unpack everything else.  Who knew he had so much stuff in that loft of his?  And while he was desperate to have some order in Eddie’s – no his – new house, he found he just couldn’t find the energy or motivation to start unpacking.

He was almost relieved at the sound of a knock on his door.  Grateful for the distraction, he bound over and opened the door with a wide smile, only to freeze at the sight in front of him.

“Hi Buck,” Tommy said softly.

“Tommy,” Buck replied, stunned.  “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“I went to your loft, but found out you had moved.  I had to text Eddie to find out where you had gone.”

“Uh, yeah,” Buck managed to stammer.  “Eddie has gone back to Texas, to try and patch things up with Christopher.”  He was still frozen in shock – he was honestly surprised he had been able to spit out an entire sentence.

“Good.  Good for him.”

“Yeah.”  There was an awkward silence and Buck realised they were both still standing in the doorway.  “Did uh, did you want to come in?”

“Sure.”

Buck snapped out of his trance and stepped aside to let Tommy walk through, closing the door behind him as Tommy looked around the house.

“Sorry about the mess,” Buck said, gesturing to the piles of boxes everywhere.  “I’ve been a little too preoccupied lately to think about unpacking.”

“So I’ve heard,” Tommy said, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.  “That’s actually why I’m here – I heard about what happened to Maddie.”

Buck’s eyes widened.  “You did?”

“Yeah.  How is she?”

“She’s doing ok.  She and the baby are doing okay.”

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up.  “The baby?”

Buck smiled, his face lighting up at the thought of his upcoming nephew.  “Yeah, she’s pregnant.  She and Chim are going to have a son.”

Tommy smiled.  “That’s great.  Really great.”  Tommy’s smile faded, his gaze turning serious.  “And what about you?”

“Me?”  Buck asked, surprised.  “What about me?”

“It must have been hard for you, with what happened to Maddie.  I know how much she means to you; it must have been hard for you, seeing her like that.”

“I’m fine,” Buck said, trying to fill his voice with as much bravado as he could.  Going by the look on Tommy’s face, he wasn’t buying it.  “I wasn’t the one who had their throat slashed by a psychopath – it’s not all about me,” Buck added, unable to keep a note of bitterness from seeping into his voice.  He saw Tommy frown, and he looked down at the floor, ashamed.

In his peripheral vision, Buck saw Tommy take a step towards Buck.  “Being upset that your sister was kidnapped and nearly killed isn’t making it “all about you”.  You’re allowed to be upset about it, you know that right?”

The sincerity in his voice forced Buck to raise his head to meet Tommy’s eyes.  And rather than judgement, all he saw was what he had heard – genuine concern.  It was almost overwhelming.  He had been beating himself up for the past few days over everything – not just Maddie, but Eddie leaving, and his inability to stop himself from feeling like his life was falling apart.  Telling himself that he shouldn’t be feeling that way, that it wasn’t about him – it was about what his best friend and his sister needed, and he just had to suck it up and deal with it.  Stop being selfish.  It didn’t matter that he was hurting, that as one by one people left him, his loneliness grew.  His feelings weren’t important right now.  And he really was trying not to be selfish, to not make it about him, to be there for his friends and his family when they needed him.  But there was that small voice in the back of his mind whispering “but why can’t they be there for you too?” that kept making itself heard, and in moments when he was alone, it was hard to drown out that voice.  Hard to keep that loneliness at bay. 

Buck opened his mouth with the intention of making some sort of joke to once again hide what he was truly feeling, but it was like his body had another thought in mind.  Like it recognized that the man in front of him, the man who would always lend a willing ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on no matter what, would never dream to think that Buck was being selfish.  Would once again be a pillar of support, regardless of whether they were together or not.  So rather than the joke Buck had intended to tell, instead came a choked sob.

Immediately Tommy closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around Buck, one hand cradling his head.  Buck buried his face in the crook of Tommy’s neck and relished the feeling of comfort that he had been craving for so long.

“Your feelings matter,” Buck heard Tommy murmur in his ear, and it was like once again Tommy could read Buck better than he could read himself.  “You matter.”

Buck pulled back to look into Tommy’s eyes.  For weeks he had felt like he was drowning in his own sorrows, a lonely man on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean with no one to hear his cries.  And now here was Tommy.  His ex-boyfriend Tommy, telling him that it was okay to feel all the pain he had been feeling.  He had almost forgotten how Tommy had always made his emotions feel valid, even if it was something ridiculous (like insisting he had been cursed by the mummy of an old cowboy).  How Tommy would always listen to what Buck had to say.  How he would make him feel… cherished.  Like Buck mattered.  And looking into those deep blue eyes, he felt a wave of longing wash over him as he was reminded of how much he had missed him.

Without thinking, Buck grasped a fistful of Tommy’s shirt and crashed his lips onto the other man’s.  He heard Tommy make a surprised grunt, but almost immediately he felt Tommy’s arms wrap tightly around Buck’ waist, pulling him towards him so that their chest’s pressed together as he kissed him back.

God, he had missed this.  Had missed him.  The way he tasted, the woodsy scent of his body wash, the feel of his firm muscles under his hands and his stubble scratching against Buck’s skin.  Buck’s hands roamed all over Tommy, as if trying to relearn his body all over again, and he tried to pull him impossibly closer.  He broke for a moment to catch his breath, resting his forehead against Tommy’s.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured against Tommy’s lips, before diving back in again, their kisses growing more desperate.  Buck began tugging at Tommy’s shirt, and Tommy pulled away long enough to comply as Buck slipped it up over his head and threw it somewhere towards the couch.

Allowing Tommy to do the same to him, he relished the feeling of skin on skin.  But it wasn’t enough.  He needed more.

His lips back on Tommy’s, and fingers hooking through the belt loops of Tommy’s jeans, Buck slowly led them both, stumbling, to Buck’s new bedroom.

**************

“God, I needed that,” Buck managed to say between breaths, his arm thrown across his face as he willed his heart to stop racing and his breathing to calm down.  Lying next to him on the bed, he could hear Tommy doing the same.

“I can imagine you’ve been under a fair bit of stress lately,” Tommy said.

Buck huffed a laugh.  “Yeah, you could say that.”  He lowered his arm and turned to his side so that he could look at Tommy.  His lips curled up into a small smile as Tommy mirrored his actions, and Tommy, seemingly unable to resist, lifted a hand to gently grip Buck’s chin in his fingers, his thumb caressing the skin.  “It’s been a tough few days.  Few weeks, really.  Months, even.  Ever since you…”

Buck cut himself off and the movement of Tommy’s thumb froze.  He could see what looked like a flicker of pain (or was that guilt?  Both?) in Tommy’s eyes and Buck’s smile slipped as reality came crashing down on Buck.  They weren’t together anymore.  This wasn’t the wonderful end to one of their date nights.  Tommy was his ex – he had just slept with his ex.  Things hadn’t changed – if anything, they had just got a whole lot messier.  The ache in his heart that had been living there since the moment Tommy had walked out of his door, all those weeks back came rushing back with a vengeance, the momentary happiness he had felt only minutes before draining quickly away.

“This was a mistake,” Tommy said, as if reading Buck’s thoughts.  “We shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?” Buck asked desperately, trying to hold onto this moment just a little longer.

“I feel like I took advantage of you.”

Buck pulled away from Tommy’s hand, barking out a harsh laugh.  “You took advantage of me?  Last time I checked I was the one who kissed you.”

“You were upset…”

“Damn right I was upset!” Buck said angrily, rolling off the bed and reaching for his clothes.  “My sister was kidnapped!  My best friend has moved away! You left me!  Why wouldn’t I be upset?!  But I’m still in my right mind to know what I want, and I wanted you!  Even if you so clearly still don’t want me.”

Buck turned his back on Tommy and began to roughly pull on his underwear and jeans.

“It was never about me not wanting you,” Tommy said softly after a long pause, and when Buck turned, he saw that Tommy hadn’t moved from the bed, only he was now sitting up, sorrow etched deep into his features.  “I always wanted you.”

“No, you just couldn’t trust me,” Buck said bitterly.  “Couldn’t trust me not to break your heart, wasn’t that it?”

Without waiting for a reply, Buck stalked out of the bedroom and into the main living area.  Hunting around the boxes, he eventually found his shirt hiding behind a stack and tugged it back on.  The simple task took longer than normal with the hurt running through him blinding him, and when his head finally popped through the fabric, he saw that Tommy had silently followed him, wearing pants once again.  He watched as Tommy found his own shirt (he had managed to throw it on the couch after all) and slipped it on, the silence in the room deafening.  Buck found that the anger he had felt moments ago had drained away and once again felt that deep immense sadness he had been feeling since the day Tommy had walked out of the door to his loft for the last time.

Once Tommy was fully dressed, they simply stared at each other in silence, neither of them able to break their gaze, or – more importantly – find the words to say what they desperately needed to say to each other.

“You should probably go,” Buck finally murmured, moving to stand behind the table and create some distance between them.

Tommy nodded and walked silently towards the front door, while Buck maintained a white knuckled grip on the back of one of the chairs because he just knew that if he didn’t, he would rush over and grab Tommy’s shirt and beg him to not to leave.

Tommy opened the door and paused, turning to face Buck with his hand still on the handle, and Buck’s breath caught, because it was so reminiscent of the last time Tommy had left him, and if Tommy told him once again that he would “see you around, Buck” he knew that what was left of his heart would be destroyed.

“For the record,” Tommy said softly, his eyes never leaving Buck’s.  “I’ve missed you too, Evan.”

Turning, Tommy walked out the door, closing it softly behind him, and Buck felt his heart wrench inside of him.  But it wasn’t the same feeling as before.  Sure, there was still plenty of pain from seeing Tommy walk away from him once again, but there was something else there – something he hadn’t felt in weeks, and it took him a few moments to recognize what it was.

It was hope.

[xsommeee]

BEAST SKK HEAD CANON~~

Dazai's room is an exact replica of what Mori had in his. Nothing touched everso slightly, he rarely sleeps at night, sits glued to a chair in the corner and states in the dark. Talking to himself at various moments, arguing passionately against tall red drapes. In a Victorian era styled rooms with bedded pillars and purple soft carpet floors. Multiple grim artworks hung on the walls with heavy embellished frames.

If you asked Dazai what the model number written under the gun of a goon who walked past him this morning, he'd tell you with absolute certainty. However he had no idea about the bedding in his room, or the couch, he didn't even know the curtains were red. He simply never looked at them, he only saw the high void like ceiling.

“Comment était votre petit voyage?” Dazai remarked without moving. The room was completely silent before this, a normal person will say there wasn't a person there either.

“Il n’y a jamais de voyage.”

“Then where were you this whole week? Trying on better dog collars?” Dazai says glaring at the other. There was light illuminating a scowling slime face.

Chuuya Nakahara was missing from the Port Mafia quarters, the second in command had performed none of his duties for over two weeks “I need to talk to you, with sincerity” Chuuya breathes in “You- you delivered a box filled with over 200 hearts to the place I was in today.” Chuuya crosses his arms, visibly uncomfortable.

“Two hundred and thirty three for the fourteenth day of you not coming back. The Fibonacci sequence you know, I recognise your love for math and physics.” A horrific grin plastered on Dazai. Chuuya opens his mouth but falls short of words only to get interrupted.

“You wanted to avoid this outcome? I had warned you, Chuuya. You could have filed a leave application instead of disappearing, why didn't you? Did you really think I was bluffing?” “Bastard!” Chuuya grits, “you knew where I was!”

“Yes, and that doesn't excuse your absence.” Dark eyes cut into crystal blue ones. There's a surge of pain in the latter.

“Dazai,” Chuuya walks towards him half bowed with a desperation and uncomeliness he'd never felt. Wildly gesticulating every word and eyes blown wide. He screams, abuses and cries all through the same words and speaks without breathing. “I’ve had nothing, nothing to do for more than six months. I know batshit about whatever you're doing, hell that white hair kid who's been here two days knows more than I. A shitty goon with no use but to die first is more useful than me. Hell Dazai I’d fucking go out there not use my powers and fight like that recruit. But all, all that I do is come to this goddamn building and sit in an office she used to sit in. Watching people I used to know and respect deride me. Spit on me for the traitor I am! You wanted revenge over me not supporting your accession.”

Chuuya fists Dazai’s shirts shaking him with his own trembling body, “You’ve had it. I don't think you could have more. I'd say whatever you want, do whatever you say. Just- just let me peace, some peace. Stop torturing me like this. Like you’re unaware, behaving like this is alright, I’m tired. I’m sick. I’m already crazy! There's nothing left, nothing, nothing, nothing!”

Dazai had gotten up during this tirade, holding the hand fisted in his shirt, rubbing Chuuya's back soothingly with the other. By the end of it a heavy silence ensued. Dazai stared at his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

He started speaking calmly as if Chuuya was upset after seeing a rat get run over by a car. “Shh, don't be like this. Walls have ears, if someone heard chibi right now, you want something to do that's all? If that's it, I want you as my bodyguard. I had proposed it multiple times. You don't need to go anywhere, not the office or meetings, just stay.”

“Stay with you?” Chuuya murmurs under his breath. Dazai moves in closer, pushing Chuuya into his chest, trapping him with his arms. A dark room with two figures towered inward, they're two worlds colliding, obliterating each other.

From an outsider's perspective the Port Mafia's boss and his second in command are such dynamically different people. A different species altogether Osamu Dazai with his cold antipathic gaze, he can scare people with his mere presence in a room silent, still and unfeeling. There is anger in him too, unlike what appearance states, but it is reasonable and calculated, a white freezing fire. Chuuya Nakahara on the other hand is scalding hot, even to Dazai, burning himself from within like an amber ignited orange and red. He is simplehearted and straightforward to most, nevertheless complexities lay buried deep within him, in their presence he begins to think of everything as an act, a heinous disgusting lie. Dazai pokes that part of him, a place where they align the most perfectly in his eyes.

Dazai smashes his lips over Chuuya's, holding his nape in his hand to bend him up. The energy that possesses him while doing this however leaves him instantly, he backs just a little but their lips still touch, feeling each other's breaths fan over.

A few tense moments pass like that. Dazai stirs first, he knows the reason why Chuuya wants to leave. He moves backwards with such slowness as if moving away is excruciatingly painful. Chuuya doesn't let him move too much though, kissing Dazai full and tender, breaking it at times to look into his dilated eyes as if to read some unknown secret. Dazai holds him tighter than a drowning man stuck in a storm with only a log to float.

Read the rest here? Idk I really like this fic, like really I hope people read it, I'd write like one chapter more :

[bluem1ngs]

PAU CUBARSÍ | part 2 |

(scroll to bottom for part 1 of the story)

She was staring down at the box. It was laden with memories of their relationship, and him coming to her house to give her the things she had left at his place throughout the years struck her hard.

He entered her bedroom, and sighed, “I just wanted to make sure you had everything back.”

“You mean other than you?” she said, only then coming to realization, “Sorry.. that wasn’t fair.”

He almost scoffed, with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Pau,” she called out, stopping him from walking out the bedroom.

“You know when you couldn’t play for two months because of an injury two years ago?” she told him, “You told me that you took playing for granted before everything happened and you made a promise that if you had a second chance, you would do things differently.”

She sighed and took a shaky breath. "I know I hurt you... But I told myself that if I could get you to listen, I would tell you that," she stood up from the bed and walked over to him, "There was never a day while I was away that I didn't believe you were the best thing in my life."

He sighed and looked at her. "You can’t just say that, Daniela. Not after months of silence.”

“Why? It’s the truth.” she informed him.

"Really?" he inquired, and she replied, "Yeah."

"What about the day you threw our relationship away?" He asked her.

"You ended things between us," she reminded him, genuinely bewildered by his words.

"Yeah, after I drove a thousand miles to see you and you didn't even call me after I left!"

"Pau, you just walked away!" She argued back.

He shook his head and laughed dryly, "Well, that beats running away."

She told him sincerely, "I did call."

"You called my voicemail, Daniela!" he shouted, utterly irritated.

"Because I knew you were going to hang up on me anyway, so I had to leave a message!" she exclaimed, desperate to make her point.

He shrugged his shoulders and said, "I didn't even play it. I removed your contact."

She stared at him and let out a sigh of nearly dismay.

"Well, then you deleted this," she said, taking a deep breath. “I was being childish when I walked away from you to go find myself. I was being stubborn. I handled it completely wrong, and I can’t take that back, but I wish that I could. Did I want to explore new things? Yes, I loved every night of it where I was in different countries and finding my true passion.”

She looked at him with want and passion, saying, “But I want you to know something, Pau. There was never a night where I loved it more than I loved you.”

He merely glanced back at her, unsure how he felt.

"Daniela," he said, "Let’s not get off to a bad start. I’ll see you later." With that, he left the bedroom.

When she heard the front door open and close, she sat down in her bed and took in everything.

When she heard a knock on the front door, she walked over to open it, surprised to see him standing there after days of silence.

"Hey, can I talk to you?" He asked her.

She stared at him and nodded.

She walks out of the house and closes the front door behind her.

"I just wanted to say sorry. I shouldn’t have left your house like that the other day," he apologized to her.

She merely glanced at him and said, "It's okay."

“Not really,” he breathed. “Look, I’ve been avoiding you these past few days because I’m still mad, I mean about everything.”

She takes a deep breath and anxiously wipes her hair away from her face.

“Pau, I need to ask you something, and I really don't want you to take it the wrong way, but," she stared deeply into his eyes, "I need to know what you want from me... or from us. W-What are we now?"

He shrugged, serious expression on his face, "I don't know."

She glanced at him and inquired, "What do you want us to be?"

He sighed, “I don’t know, Daniela. I can’t answer that right now.”

She exhaled, “I can. I want us to be together.”

"Why?" He inquired, perplexed, "I mean, we're so far from... who we used to be. Why fight for it?"

She informed him, "Because I love you."

He sighed and looked at her, “I know we promised to give us a second chance, and I won’t break it… but it’s hard for me to forget everything.”

She returned his gaze, holding her necklace in a comforting gesture.

“I’m going to head back home, alright?” he told her and began to walk away.

She called out “Pau,” and he turned around.

“I'm not going anywhere," she said. He slightly smiled and nodded his head.

She watched him leave her front yard and thought to herself.

Wearing the team jersey, with his name on the back there she stood in the stadium.

He gave her the jersey the day he registered for the first team, and he loved seeing her with his name on her back, but it almost hurt him that day.

Everything between the two was uncertain, with unspoken words remaining between them that had yet to be addressed. Regardless of how complicated things were, she continued to support him.

He asked her to wait for him in the tunnel once the game was over, and she did.

He entered the tunnel and was taken aback to see her standing there. Deep down, he didn't trust her, and he was almost certain she would leave him again.

She takes a deep breath and brushes her hair almost nervously away from her face.

“You played well today. Thank you for inviting me.” She tells him and met his eyes but received nothing in return.

He sighed, finally meeting her gaze, "Listen, Daniela, don't worry about us."

She nodded, her eyes heavy with sorrow.

He looked at her with loving eyes and said, "Our love is still there... it just takes time."

She hugged him and exhaled shakily. He stood there, holding her in his arms.

She drew away from his embrace and stared at him with complete adoration.

"Call me later if you want to talk or..." she laughed slightly, a smile on her lips.

He nodded and bit his lip with a smile.

Just as she turned to walk away, her phone rang. She saw the screen light up with his name on it.

She turned around to see him walking over to her, his phone in his ear, and a goofy smile on his lips.

He put his around her shoulder, and the two walked out of the stadium together.

She opened the front door to find him standing there.

"Wow, two times in one week?" She joked, making him chuckle.

His laughter subsided, and he only smiled at her.

She stood there wearing a blue button-up shirt and jeans, her hair curled and voluminous. He always admired her elegance and refinement.

"Were you going somewhere?" He asked her, hands in his pockets.

"Oh, no, I went grocery shopping earlier." She asked him, with a sweet grin, "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see if I could take you out," he said, and she smiled knowingly.

“Of course," she replied, her smile widening.

She grabbed her purse and they set out for the city.

They walked side by side in silence, looking ahead at Barcelona.

She looked across at him, and he seemed upset about something.

"What's wrong?" she questioned him sincerely.

He looked across at her, unable to control the slight smile on his lips.

"Nothing," he told her, but she saw right through his lies.

She flashed him a look and he knew that he couldn't get away with it.

“I’m just kinda worried about everything. I mean, there’s a lot of things going on right now like the league, the champions coming up… and wanting to fix things with you.” He spoke softly, meeting her gaze.

She merely glanced back at him, completely enamored by him.

"You know for most of my life I would've gone through most things like this alone, but then I met you, and I finally found someone that I could depend on when life got like this," He glanced at her, looking intently into her eyes. "So I guess I wanted to see you tonight because I wanted to know if that was still there for us."

"Pau, you can always talk to me," she informed him, and he nodded as she spoke.

She took his hand, and he glanced up at her. She stood there, offering him a soothing smile.

The two started walking down the streets hand in hand.

"What should we do first?" he asked, instantly meeting her beaming eyes.

She nearly dragged him into the thrift store, and he eagerly followed her around the aisles.

She put a hat on his head and turned her head to see every angle of his face. He only grinned, taking the time to admire her.

He picked one of the sets of sunglasses on display and placed it on her nose. She giggled and gave him a funny look.

As they walked out of the store, she held her wrist against his, admiring the matching bracelets they had just bought.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. She is the most beautiful woman, physically and emotionally.

"How about we order some food to your house?" he asked, and she looked up at him.

"I also have some ice cream in the fridge," she said, smiling, and he smiled back at her.

The two sat on her couch, a pint of ice cream between them.

With the spoon in her mouth, she used her hands to lift her hair and put it up into an effortless French twist. She only then noticed the silly look on his face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She questioned him, smiling, "Do I have ice cream on my face?" and attempted to wipe anything from her mouth away.

"It's not that, I was just remembering," he responded, laughing.

She asked, setting down her spoon, "Remembering what?"

"Your hair." he smiled, recalling, "You wore it that way the day I met you."

"You remember how I wore my hair the first day we met?" She gushed, teasing him but yet absolutely taken with the fact that he remembered something so little.

"Of course," he smiled and leaned in to kiss her lips. She carefully drew them apart and relished the kiss.

She bit her lip in a beautiful small smile, "Thank you," to which he inquired, "For what?"

"For giving us a second chance." she whispered, and he only smiled, kissing her lips once again.

(part 1 here)

[paradiseinternet]

I Hate Tony Stark: Chapter Five

pairing: Tony Stark x Soulmate!Reader

word count: 4.0k

triggers: childhood trauma, poverty, age gap.

author's note: another chapter in the bag :)

Chapter Five: Your Future Isn't Mine, Yet They Intertwine

What part of “this is my future” did he not understand? Is he dense? The entire point of the initial meeting was to clarify to him that you did not want anything to do with him. You truly thought that you got the idea through his head, but maybe you were too optimistic.

He ignored your quiet reaction and instead decided to feign innocence, “Hey! You work here? What a coincidence.”

You continue to just stare at him as you realize his disguise isn’t actually all that great. All it took was for him to lift his head up and you figured out who he was. Something in the back of your mind knew an instance like this was likely. You thought about how he’ll track you down and go from there. That technology of his is way too advanced to not be used to his advantage. And what do you know, you were right; Tony Stark has successfully hunted you down.

“You know, now that we’re in the same room, I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he continued, leaning his head on his propped-up arm. “I got to thinking. You’re right, it’s your future, do with it as you will. But as that monk Swami, or whatever his name was, said, ‘you are the creator of your own destiny’.”

He leaned back up and paused for dramatic effect, then motioned to the area around you, “And destiny has brought me to this café.”

That smile, the one he is giving you right now, looks very slapable. However, for reasons unknown to you, a warmth fills your heart. His face seems to challenge you, asking for you to come up with something that will make him leave. But after a few moments of dense silence, you drew a blank and could only think of entertaining his antics.

“Really? Not your incredibly advanced technology and a GPS?” You responded dryly.

His smile grew, pleased to be getting something other than rejection, “But a minor intervention.”

You scoffed, “You’re a nuisance.”

“I’m your nuisance,” he quickly clarified.

Tony Stark is most certainly a nuisance to you, but hopefully not a recurring one.

You sigh in defeat, desperate to find an end to this, “Then how do I get rid of you?”

“Let me see,” he pretended to think. “Mm, yeah no, you can’t. Well, I am leaving town in a couple days, would love for you to come with me.”

“That’s the opposite of getting rid of you, not happening,” you said while crossing your arms. At this point your pen and notepad have been placed back into your pouch.

“Thought I’d try.”

“Stop trying.”

His chuckle in reply was different, not simply holding the sound of amusement, but also with a hint frustration, “Wow, you definitely are a ray of sunshine.”

This man is confusing, and you feel yourself torn to two sides of a coin. One the one side, you wanted to curl up and get away from him, intimidated by his stature and the differences in lifestyle between the two of you. On the other hand, you want to yell at him then kick him out of the building. But something inside you prevents you from kicking him out. You reason with yourself that it’s in fear of the repercussions of kicking a customer out for no apparent reason, but you know this isn’t the case.

“Are you going to order something?” You ask as you start to lightly tap on the floor with your right foot.

The face he pulls makes you feel slightly nauseated as you realize that something you said he’s going to use to his advantage. And with your limited knowledge of the playboy, you have an idea as to what he will say.

“Are you on the menu?”

Yeah, that checks out.

You glare and say, “Order something or leave.”

That shit-eating grin doesn’t move a muscle, looking to demonstrate that he was very pleased with himself up to this point. And in a world with only one man, he’d be one cheeky fellow with original one-liners. But life is not a box of chocolates, instead it’s a blue sphere where roughly half of the population is male. Therefore, he is not original and certainly isn’t going to sway you anytime soon. Nothing he has, you want. One way or another he’s going to figure that out, and one way or another he’s then going to realize he has no leverage.

He doesn’t spare a glance at the menu in front of him, keeping his sunglass-covered eyes on you.

“A cappuccino will do nicely, with a pretty design on top,” he answers.

You roll your eyes and walk off to the bar to begin making the drink. Trish will now be serving him if you have anything to say about it. Anything to get him out of your line of sight.

“He’s all yours girlie,” you say while walking past to get to the coffee machine.

She released a delighted gasp of shock as she made a small ‘o’ with her lips, “The sugar daddy?”

“Oh yeah, work him,” you confirm. You’re not one for feeding into her mania, but if it’s to your advantage, you’ll pull every string you need to.

She grins deviously, thinking she’s about to get an early payday and maybe something more (knowing her age ceiling). He’s used to women falling into his lap, what is it to you if he has more?

Speaking of age caps, that’s another reason (although trivial) that you’re keeping your distance. He’s a bit too old for you. It doesn’t take much math to determine that he is about the same age as your dad if he were still alive. Your dad was 17 when you were born, so essentially, you’d be dating someone roughly the same age, and that’s weird. But Trish is 25, and although that isn’t much better, at least they’re kind of closer in age. Besides, Stark is used to young women running after him.

While the coffee was dripping, you were preparing the milk and adding air to get the correct amount of foam. When the espresso was finished, you then added the milk and began the design as it reached the top. Typically you’d do a heart because everyone adores hearts in art, but this is a case you don’t want to give the wrong message to. So, as an alternative, you did a leaf.

After placing the cup with coffee on the ceramic saucer, you handed it over to Trish to deliver. In response she gave an automated ‘thank you’ and made her way to the man of the hour. You, on the other hand, went to go check on the other few customers in the shop and wipe down a few tables.

You caught Trish giving you a look as she was walking back behind the counter; in response you started to make your way towards her. For a brief moment the two of you looked at each other, trying to decipher what the other was thinking. Afterwards Trish then began the brief exchange.

“I see why you passed,” she scoffed.

“Oh?” You wordlessly questioned.

She crossed her arms in exaggeration while snapping, “What a dick, didn’t even entertain the idea. He’s insisting on you.”

A long, drawn-out sigh left your lips as your head sank. You were hoping he’d just take the hint. This is turning from a dunce case to a stubborn nut. What can you do to make him change his mind?

Ah! You got an idea. An awful idea. You had a wonderful, awful idea.

What can be done to a man who’s stuck in his heart? Give him a reason to use his head.

You walk briskly back to the table, having no doubt that he wanted to take up all your time.

He must’ve heard your steps because he had something witty to say before you were even in his line of sight.

“Oh would you look at that, the newt got better,” he said while leaning on the back of the chair.

When you reached him at the end of the table, you couldn’t help the confused bloom on your face. You knew he was referring to something, but you weren’t sure what.

He noticed your look and returned it, equally confused except most likely for the opposite reason—why don’t you know what he’s referencing to?

Chuckling he asked, “What? Never watched Monty Python?”

“When did it come out?” You asked.

“1975 I think, but don’t quote me. I was five during the release but didn’t watch it until I was a teenager,” he answered while taking a drink from the cappuccino.

You hummed, “That makes sense, I wasn’t born until ’88.”

The drink he was taking quickly left his mouth as he started coughing.

Instantly you started patting his back while reached for the cluster of napkins on the other side of the table with your other hand. Then you worked on cleaning the new mess as Tony started to recuperate.

Coffee went everywhere, the table, the chair across from him, on him, but none on you thankfully. You had been trying your best to clean him up, ignoring the warmth in your heart with every dab you made. Then your heart went ablaze for a moment as he grabbed your wrist and pulled it away.

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” he chanted with a slightly hoarse voice.

You pulled your arm away, unwilling to continue with the fire burning your heart from the contact. It was unreal, surreal, something you couldn’t quite understand. You knew you received that effect from touching him, and it had to be because of the bond, but how can something you feel so detached from be so powerful?

Stuffing the slightly damp napkins in your apron pocket, you couldn’t help but ask, “What happened?”

He ignored you and opted to establish a clarification, “You said ’88 right? So you’re 22?”

His question confused you on several levels. For one, you can’t even remember how old you are some days, much less compute your age based on year within seconds. Secondly, he should know how old you are—at least you thought he would. He knows your name because he got a clear image of your face that dreadful night. Since he was able to obtain your name purely because he captures your features, he should know everything there is to know about you.

“Yeah?” You confirmed.

So why doesn’t he know your age?

“Holy shit,” he cursed via something between an airy chuckle and a sound of surprise. Thoughtlessly he had his hand in his hair running his fingers through the dark strands.

‘He doesn’t know how old I am?’ you pondered to yourself. If this was the case, then your plan to get him to use his head just got easier. Using the age gap as leverage to explain why the two of you are not a good match will work in your favor.

It took a solid minute of him staring into the wall before coming back to reality. “Well, I mean, fate works in mysterious ways,” he determined, but not sounding overly convinced with what he said.

Damn it.

Now was the time you had to interject, “I’m confused, you managed to get my name by doing a scan of my face. Did you not bother to look more into me?”

He looked at you quizzingly.

“A scan of your face? When did I have time to do that?” He smirked and tilted his head, intrigued to know what you believed.

You crossed your arms, “When we were arguing on the street the other night.”

“Ah, the same street that was as bright as the sun one moment then as dark as tar the next?”

Dumbass.

Of course he couldn’t get a picture of you, no picture would be distinguishable in that lighting. Trish had quite literally told you that the person who witnessed the conversation between you and Stark was unable to get a photo because of the lighting, how would he be able to either?

Scoffing, you snarkily asked, “Well, then how did you get my name?”

“I asked the receptionist who the room was under,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “She gave me a weird look, but honestly, totally worth it.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes. “Then how do you know where I work?”

He swirled the cappuccino in his hand, eyes glinting mischievously. “Oh, simple. I put your name into my servers, ran a facial recognition search, and voila. Found your face, found your work. But don’t worry, I didn’t go full stalker mode and read everything in your file.” He gave a casual shrug. “I like to stay informed, but where’s the fun in knowing everything? Getting to know your soulmate is supposed to be the adventure, right?”

You could feel the irritation bubble up at his antics, but Tony didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t use your face to find your name . . . but he did use your name to find your face. His casual, almost smug demeanor always made you want to scream sometimes.

“By the way, has anyone ever told you that your face does not match your age?” Grinning slyly, he leaned back in his chair. “I thought you were at least early 30s.”

The unadulterated rage that crossed your face was enough for him to give a quiet apology, realizing that it’s not exactly the kindest thing to tell a woman she looks older than she is. To be fair, you didn’t have much care in pertains to how old people thought you were. You understand that you’ve been through more struggles than the common person, so your features would likely reflect that. However, you prefer to hear those comments come from people you know, not from someone you loathe.

“You came here for a reason,” you began, done with being near him. “Could you get to it?”

What you didn’t expect was for him to look at you with a gaze that told a story you couldn’t understand. His eyes (which were already covered by the tinted glasses) are so dark they almost looked black, like a shark. The way the light reflected off of his irises explained the great feats he has achieved, and the fears he has had to face because of it. Something about the way he looked at you was almost like he was trying to memorize your face while he could, worried he might never see it again.

Then, with a small, thoughtful nod, Tony’s voice dropped to a level tone. “Like I said, I’m heading out soon. Got a whole other life in California waiting for me—responsibilities, the usual jazz.”

You nodded, understanding. Internally you were smiling, glad he was going to be a comforting distance away from you again. Although, the ache in your heart was deceiving your brain, trying to convince yourself otherwise.

“I get it,” he continued, drumming his fingers on the table. “You don’t want to come with me, I can’t say I blame you. But I’m not talking about some grand, epic love story here.” He gave you a sideways look, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not all soulmates are meant to be romantic, you know. Sometimes, they’re just . . . really good-looking friends who have a lot to offer. Just saying."

Between a small smile and a look of annoyance, you’re not sure which one was showing up on your face. Something about his relaxed body language and light words made you want to bubble up and giggle like a teenager at his cunning way of flirting. The annoyance spoke true to your thoughts, however, as you wanted to grimace at his attempt to get familiar with you.

What to do, what to do. You had a feeling that (as to hold true from what he said earlier) if you rejected him again, he would just come back like a bad itch. Alternatively, if you were to give him a chance at “friendship” then he’d maybe be less persistent. If he got to know you as a person, then there is no doubt in your mind that he wouldn’t want to continue anything platonic, much less romantic. This absolute fact will be used to your gain as you carry out the plan to prove to him you are not a good match, starting with your lack-luster, antisocial personality. For, there isn’t a universe where the two of you are compatible. This universe, to put it simply, has made a mistake that you will take great joy in highlighting.

The nod you gave was subtle, but obvious enough to the gazing man before you. You could tell he understood because his cheeks rose as his lips took the form of a smile rather than a sly grin. This glimpse of a moment was short-lived as he once again regained the trademark smirk.

“Perfect, so I was thinking--.”

You promptly cut him off, not willing to completely give in to his charade. The thought of just allowing yourself to be friendly with your father’s executioner was not to be taken lightly; so, meticulous steps need to be planned for. Though, something else you need is time.

“If this is to happen, I need to lay down some ground rules,” your statement started off strong and hard as stone. However, what you are trying to convey is not as simple when said in words. You didn’t exactly think about what you wanted to say, considering you never planned to get to know him in the first place. “Those rules are to be determined in some time.”

He shifted in the chair, remaining leaned against the wooden backing. “As in, you don’t have a clue as to what you want.”

Your cheeks flushed from the embarrassment of not having a grasp over your own life, while simultaneously turning red in anger at his endless yapping. “I’ll have you know that I have a clear picture as to what I want, it’s just difficult to know what I don’t want—apart from you leaving me alone, that is.”

He feigned shock while putting a hand over where his heart (probably) is. “Oh, the betrayal. Fine, I’ll give you one day—but no more than that. I’m outta here in three, and I need at least a little time to figure out how to annoy you without getting a lecture.”

You rolled your eyes then nodded to solidify the agreement, “Then I will contact you in no more than 24 hours with my groundwork.”

At this point you thought the conversation was over, but his staring told you otherwise. The two of you spent at least a minute looking at each other. His expression confused you as to why he looked so pleased with himself.

“I’ll take it you won’t catch on,” he began to stand up from his seat. The cappuccino a memory lost in conversation. “How do you intend to contact me?”

The blush that barely disappeared from earlier reinstated itself at the realization.

“I . . . I don’t see how that’s my problem,” you stumbled. “You’re the one who wants all this to happen. You should be accommodating.”

He looked at you again with nothing other than mindless commentary hiding behind his pupils and lips pressed thin into a simper.

“If it pleases the court.”

Without so much of a hitch, he pulls a phone out of his jacket and selects a contact page for you to enter your information into. The exchange was as quick as you could make it—you having not bothered to enter anything extra apart from your number. Frankly, his phone was quite different from yours, it confused you a little bit when trying to adapt to the user interface. Although, if he noticed your struggling, he didn’t mention it.

Handing the phone back, you’re startled as he grasps your wrist instead and twists it to where your palm is facing the ceiling. That lingering warmth that you’ve been blatantly ignoring comes back ten-fold in such intensity that you begin to think you are suffering from heat stroke. Then, he leans down almost like he intended to kiss the palm of your hand for some obscure reason, only to stop and instead gaze longingly at the watch wrapped around your skin to prevent people from seeing his name. While still hunched over he mumbles something indistinguishable and grabs his phone with the very same hand that has your printed name. You can’t deny the little sparks of electricity that flowed through where he contacted you.             “Catch you later sweet cheeks,” he bids farewell after moving around you, taking a not-so-discrete peek at your ass, then walking out the door.

Barely a moment later you felt the phone in your right slack pocket vibrate from a new message—undoubtably that from the man who just left.

Currently, your mind is processing faster than that of a computer calculator. Nothing but ones and zeros flashing across the uncountable amounts of neurons that make up your brain. It would seem that after the somewhat-intense conversation with him, your mind had decided to short-circuit, only really focused on not-so-important details like if he paid for his coffee and how many hours you have left for your shift.

The second thought was easy to answer—the time is currently a quarter past ten, not nearly as late as you would’ve thought since the talk felt like an eternity. This means you have another ten hours and 45 minutes until you can clock out. That’s ten hours and 45 minutes that you have to keep busy while brainstorming what to text the waiting man. Tomorrow you’re working your regular 9-5 unlike the 12-hour shift you’re doing today. A coworker called out and you volunteered to wait around until the next person comes in—after all, what else can you fill your time with? The more money you make, the easier it is the pay rent this month. Especially since you spent a whole week to ‘celebrate’ your birthday.

As for the first thought, you finally got your body to move to check to see if he left any payment on the table. Yet, what you found made you recoil in shock. There, hidden under the cappuccino plate, were two folded 100-dollar bills.

You heard yourself audibly gasp, unable to believe what you were seeing. This certainly was enough to pay for the drink, but there must’ve been a mistake! The leftover change would be enough to cover your utilities for a month, maybe even with a few dollars extra to spare. It has to be an error, giving a tip of roughly $195 isn’t standard practice, nor is it normal. He must’ve put too much on accident.

‘He doesn’t know I’m poor, does he?’ you then thought.

No, that’s unlikely. He said it himself that he wants to get to know you personally, not just from reading a file.

Although . . . maybe he lied. Whether that is the case or not, you hate it when people know you’re poor. In passing you’ve observed that they look down on you, pity you. They try to censor themselves during conversation and activities to try and “save your feelings.” If this money isn’t a mistake and instead some extra funds to “donate” to his poor soulmate who works as a barista, then that bastard has another thing coming. He isn’t Robin Hood—he’s rich! The rich. As is, the richest man on Earth. One can’t steal from the rich and give to the poor if they are themself the rich person in question. There has to be a double entendre somewhere in that analogy.

With your mind made up, you pocketed the money after cleaning the table and then using the cash to pay for the coffee. The remaining amount will be given back to him when you see him next. Naturally you will be keeping a generous $20 tip for both your time and the headache along with giving half of it to your unfortunate coworker who was just trying to make a quick buck. Although $20 is more than you want to take, your spite cannot win against your inevitably resilient financial situation.

[am0ralexis]

Beach Proposal (fluff/smut)🩷❤️‍🔥

The moon hung low over the ocean, casting a silvery glow on the sand that stretched endlessly before you. The waves whispered secrets to the shore, their rhythm steady and soothing. Alex had insisted on this late-night walk, his hand warm in yours, his voice soft as he pointed out constellations. It’s romantic, he’d said, and you’d laughed, teasing him about his sudden flair for the dramatic. But now, standing here under the expanse of stars, it felt… different. His usual chaotic energy was subdued, replaced by a quiet intensity that made your heart race.

“Do you remember the first time we came here?” he asked, his voice breaking the gentle hum of the night. You nodded, smiling at the memory. It had been early in your relationship, back when everything was still new and electric. He’d been filming a vlog, rambling about the beauty of the ocean, and you’d been the one to suggest this spot. It’s perfect, you’d said, and he’d agreed, turning the camera off to kiss you for the first time.

“I think about that day a lot,” he admitted, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “About how you just… made everything better. You still do.” His words were soft, almost hesitant, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. Alex wasn’t one for grand declarations—he was more likely to express his love through a meme or a sarcastic comment. But tonight, he sounded… raw. Vulnerable.

“Alex, are you okay?” you asked, turning to face him. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, he just stared, his expression unreadable. Then he dropped to one knee, pulling something from his pocket. Your breath hitched as you realized what it was—a small velvet box, its lid flipped open to reveal a delicate ring nestled inside. The diamond caught the moonlight, sparkling like a fragment of the stars above.

“I didn’t plan this,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “I mean, I’ve thought about it for months, but I didn’t have a script or a big idea or anything. I just… I knew I wanted it to be here, with you, where it all started.” He paused, swallowing hard, and you could see the nervousness flickering in his eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You make me want to be better, to do better. And I know I’m not perfect—shit, I’m a mess most of the time—but I want to spend the rest of my life trying to be the person you deserve. So… will you marry me?”

Tears welled in your eyes as you stared at him, your mind racing. This was Alex—your Alex. The guy who could make you laugh with a single look, who talked in his sleep and wore a beanie even in the summer, who was awkward and weird and so, so perfect. And he was here, on one knee, asking you to spend forever with him.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Yes, of course, yes.”

His face broke into a grin, relief and joy flooding his features as he slipped the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as if it had always belonged there. And then he was on his feet, pulling you into his arms, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was fierce, desperate, full of all the love and passion he’d been holding back. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned against your mouth, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough. “I love you so much, I don’t even know how to—”

You cut him off with another kiss, your bodies pressed so tightly together you could feel his heartbeat against your chest. The sand shifted beneath your feet as you stumbled backward, laughing breathlessly as you both fell onto the soft, cool ground. He caught himself just in time, his hands gripping your hips as he hovered above you, his eyes dark with desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Yours,” you agreed, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. “Always.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his lips moving with a fiery intensity that made your knees weak. His hands explored your body with a mix of passion and reverence, as if he were memorizing every curve, every inch of you. His fingers traced the hem of your shirt, hesitating just for a heartbeat before slipping underneath. The touch of his fingertips against your skin sent shivers of pleasure coursing through you, and you arched into him, craving more. Your own hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, trembling with anticipation until the fabric was finally discarded, tossed aside onto the cool sand like an afterthought.

His lips left yours, trailing down your neck in a series of searing kisses that made you gasp. “Alex,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. His name was a plea, a prayer, and he answered it without hesitation. His hands moved to the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down with a sense of urgency that left you breathless. The cool night air brushed against your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire he ignited within you. He paused briefly, his eyes locking with yours, a silent question hanging in the air. You nodded, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice heavy with desire and something deeper, something that made your chest ache. And then he was inside you, filling you completely, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he wanted to make this moment last forever. You clung to him, your nails digging into the muscles of his back as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Every thrust, every brush of his skin against yours, sent you spiraling closer to the edge.

The sound of the ocean faded into the distance, replaced by the rhythm of your mingled breaths, the soft, desperate moans that escaped your lips, the way his name sounded on your tongue like a mantra. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you, pulling you closer, deeper, until you were lost in him. You were no longer two separate beings but one, united in a way that felt almost divine.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice breaking as he buried his face in the curve of your neck. “You’re everything.” His words were a balm to your soul, a confirmation of everything you felt for him. You were his, and he was yours, and nothing else mattered.

Your body trembled, teetering on the brink of release, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you grounded. “Alex,” you gasped, your voice fractured, raw with emotion. “I’m—" But the words caught in your throat as pleasure consumed you, a tidal wave that crashed over you with irresistible force. He followed soon after, his body shuddering against yours, his breath hot against your skin.

For a moment, you both lay there, tangled together, the world spinning around you. The stars above seemed to shine brighter, as if they were celebrating this perfect, stolen moment. And as you clung to him, your heart pounding in unison with his, you knew this was more than passion. This was love, pure and unyielding, and it was everything.

[summercourtship]

About the Kiss Drabble!!!

Can i ask for Vulpes Inculta? If yes can you do number 14?

14 - A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished

Of course you can ask for Vulpes!! Generally, I’ll accept requests for any character I’ve written before. And I’m like… super excited to write him more, especially in an objectively sillier context than my actual vulpes x courier fic.  This ended up being slightly longer than the drabble length I had said but that’s okay lmao, I had a SCENARIO (it's like 1200 words). Anyway I love like... companion!vulpes scenarios/fics.

KISS DRABBLE PROMPTS

Vulpes was watching you struggle to climb over a fence, his arms crossed and eyebrows raised. He’d suggested multiple times that the two of you kept moving, although you knew that his motivation was to try and subtly corral you towards Cottonwood Cove without you noticing. You’d been successfully avoiding his attempts to get you to visit Caesar, but you could feel his patience wearing thin with every passing day that you continued to dodge his request. He just didn’t seem to understand why you didn’t want to visit the man whose entire ideology said that your only purpose in life was to have children.  

With a huff you swung your leg over the top of the not-particularly-tall fence, pulling yourself onto the other side before dropping onto the ground. 

“I think it would have been easier for you to try to find a hole.” He remarked. You waved your hand dismissively behind you, not bothering to look back at him. 

“That would take up too much time, I just want to check out these boxes.” You began walking to a gutted pre-war van not a few yards from the fence, with what was clearly an abandoned camp in front of it. The remains of a fire, an old bedroll, some crates, and a few ominous bloodstains sat in the shadow of the van, waiting for you to loot them. 

“So you said.” You ignored his comment, instead crouching by one of the crates and pulling out a bobby pin to try and open it. 

You had barely bent over when a force pushed you down, using the shift in your balance to easily knock you to the ground. You yelped, more from surprise than any pain, scrambling to pull out your weapon. But your assailant had the advantage over you and kicked it from your hand as soon as you had grabbed it. Distantly, you registered Vulpes cursing, though you were preoccupied with the woman above you. 

It appeared that a raider had been hiding in the van and decided to take the opportunity you presented. Luckily she was only carrying a rusty pipe as a weapon, which you were able to wrap your hands around and try to pull from her grasp. 

Then, as she yanked the pipe back from your hold, she sputtered and choked, looking down to where Vulpes was now pressing his ripper into her gut. You barely managed to roll away before she collapsed, dead. 

Shocked, you looked from the corpse to Vulpes. You didn’t even have it in you to make a snarky remark about how you could’ve handled her yourself. Instead, you could only muster a small laugh. “You saved me.”

He put the ripper away and the desert was silent without it's mechanical whirring.

“Caesar wants to see you.” He shifted slightly, almost uncomfortable as he looked down at you. “He would be disappointed if I let you die. Especially to a lowlife like that.” 

You stared at him for a moment longer before sighing and standing, brushing the dirt off of your pants. You grabbed your gun from where it had landed when the raider kicked it, placing it back at your side. “Well. I guess we should find somewhere to sleep, right?” 

Vulpes scaled the fence easily, landing on the other side in the matter of seconds. He turned back to look at you through the fence, frowning. “You cannot avoid Caesar forever.” 

“Once I have an actual reason to go down that way, I’ll pop by for a visit.” You began to climb again, the process slightly easier now that you had done it once. You could see him watching you, rolling his eyes. 

“You’ve been saying that for almost two weeks.” 

“And I haven’t had a reason to go down that way.” You dropped down from the fence. “You don’t have to travel with me.”

“I was told to bring you to Caesar.” 

“Then we’ll go on my time.” It was a conversation you’d had at least three times with him already, and it always played out the same. 

You walked with him, letting him lead the way (slightly) as you fiddled with your pip-boy and tried to grapple with your thoughts. Vulpes had killed someone for you. And even if his only motivation for doing so was because of Caesar, he still deemed your survival more important than anything.

Despite your desire to, you didn't dare sneak a look at him, sure that he would be able to feel your stare on his skin.

You only realized he had stopped walking when you almost ran into him. He was looking at you, expectantly, and you struggled to figure out what he had said before giving up and asking him to repeat himself. 

“Will this do?” He gestured behind him to a small shack. You nodded, pulling your gun and approaching. Once you had ensured that the inside was clear of any creatures or humans, you let yourself sit on the single dusty cot. Leaning back, you rested your head against the wall, letting your eyes shut. 

You could hear Vulpes moving around, placing his things down and investigating the cupboards and lockers, before his footsteps came to a stop. Then the cot dipped beside you. Startled, you opened your eyes to see him sitting in the exact same position as you, his head turned towards you. 

“I don’t like you-” You began, only to frown when he interrupted you.

“I’ve heard much worse.” 

“I’m not done.” You sighed, closing your eyes again. “I don’t like you, but I wanted to say thank you for saving me earlier.” 

“Like I said, it was for Caesar.”

“Oh really?” You opened your eyes again, leaning to look at him only to find him facing forward. He had a nice profile, you supposed, with strong features. 

“Yes, profligate.” He turned to look at you again, that same expression of annoyance that seemed to be on his face a lot when it came to you replaced by something that you weren’t able to discern. His eyes briefly looked down to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. But you’d seen it.  

And then you leaned forward, acting faster than your thoughts which were screaming at you that this was a bad idea, crashing your lips onto his. For a moment, he tensed and seemed like he was going to pull away from you before he pushed back against your lips, returning the kiss with a desperation you hadn’t expected. His hands rose to hold the sides of your head, threading through your hair to dip your face backwards as he shifted to practically drink you in.  

Maybe you would regret this when you parted, maybe you wouldn’t. You knew that this would have consequences- there was no way you made out with one of Caesar’s closest men and didn’t pay for it later. But right now, with his hands in your hair and your tongue swiping against his lips, begging for entrance, you couldn’t care less. 

You shifted, moving so you straddled his waist to deepen the kiss even further, opening your mouth and inviting him in. His tongue flicked against yours, pulling a whimper from your throat that you would certainly deny later. He groaned in response, moving his hands from where they’d landed on the sides of your face to wrap around your back, pulling you closer to him until your chest was pressed entirely against his. Your hands gripping his head, and you momentarily mourned the fact that his hair wasn’t long enough for you to pull or really grab onto. 

With a final gasp, you parted to catch your breath, panting. Despite no longer kissing, you stayed within a few inches of him as you breathed each other in, sitting in silence for a moment before he spoke.   

“Will you let me take you to Caesar now?”

“No.”

[that-sudsy]

John Price x Reader

The Proposal

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or images used in this work, nor do I claim any rights to them.

It had been years since John Price had first thought about asking you to marry him. Years filled with missions, laughter, and love, but also years of near-misses and interruptions that had turned his grand plans into a series of comedic disasters.

It all started one fateful evening when he had finally mustered the courage to pop the question. He had set the scene perfectly: a candlelit dinner, your favorite meal, and a bottle of wine that he had saved for a special occasion. Just as he was about to kneel, his phone buzzed with an urgent call from command. “Price, we need you on a mission, now!” The moment was lost, and he was left staring at the half-eaten dinner, wondering if he’d ever get another chance.

Then there was the time he had planned a romantic picnic in the park. He had even practiced his speech in the mirror, but just as he was about to ask, your phone rang. It was work, and you had to take the call. He watched as you walked away, his heart sinking as he realized that the universe had other plans.

Another time, during a cozy date at a quaint little café, the skies opened up, and rain poured down like a scene from a rom-com gone wrong. He had just taken a deep breath, ready to ask, when thunder rumbled ominously, drowning out his words. “Really? Thunder?” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

And then there was the ambulance siren that blared just as he was about to speak. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groaned, throwing his hands up in frustration. It felt like the universe was conspiring against him, and he couldn’t shake the fear that you might grow tired of waiting for him to finally ask.

But today was different. You were both sitting on the patio of your home, the sun setting in a beautiful array of colors. John was visibly nervous, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair. You noticed but didn’t want to pry. Maybe this was finally the moment.

He took a deep breath, his heart racing. “I—”

Just then, a group of rowdy neighbors burst into the backyard next door, laughing and shouting, completely oblivious to the romantic atmosphere. John’s frustration boiled over. “Why? Why does this keep happening?” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“John, it’s okay! They’re just having fun,” you reassured him, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

“No, it’s not okay!” he snapped, his voice a mix of frustration and desperation. “I’ve wanted to ask you for so long, but it feels like the world is against me! I had it all planned out, and now… now it’s just chaos!”

You blinked, taken aback by his outburst. “What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “I wanted to ask you to marry me… But I guess no matter how much I try, I’ll just get cut off by nature or time.” His voice was thick with emotion, and you could see the vulnerability behind his tough exterior.

Your heart melted at his words. “John, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve always waited for you. I would always say yes!”

His expression softened, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift. “Really?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“Of course! You’re my everything, Jonathan,” you said, reaching for his hand. “I’ve been ready for this moment since the day we met.”

With a mix of relief and joy, John finally smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Well, then… how about we make this official?”

He pulled out a small velvet box from his pocket, revealing a simple yet elegant ring. “Will you marry me?”

You gasped, tears of happiness welling in your eyes. “Yes! A thousand times, yes!”

As he slipped the ring onto your finger, the chaos around you faded away. The world might have tried to interrupt him, but in that moment, nothing else mattered. You were together, and that was all that counted.

And as the neighbors continued their raucous celebration next door, John chuckled, shaking his head. “Guess I’ll have to plan a better surprise next time.”

You laughed, leaning in to kiss him, knowing that no matter what interruptions life threw your way, you would always find your way back to each other.

[hopelesshaidys]

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。.

Being woken up by the sun was one of the high points of living where you did. You purposely put your bed right next to the window in order to get that vitamin D that you so desperately needed.

You flung the sheets off your body and slowly stretched out of bed. Surprisingly enough you and Hitoshi went off to bed before 2AM, the exhaustion from work allowing you to get a deep sleep.

You freshen up in the bathroom before heading into the kitchen. Today is going to be a good day, you decided grabbing a box of pancake batter out of the cabinet. While you started to make chocolate chip pancakes you hear soft footsteps walk around the apartment. A door closes, and you decide to turn on some music now that your roommate is up.

The pancakes are finally done and you grabbed the whip cream from the fridge, closing the fridge door with your hip. Hitoshi comes out of the bathroom, hair still not brushed and head down looking at his phone. At first you didn’t see him, but you were aware of his presence when the music you put on abruptly stops followed by mumbled curse words.

However the action could mean less to you as you smiled fondly at your best friend.

“I swear,” you put two pancakes on your plate and two other pancakes on another. You plant a rich amount of whip cream on both plates as you hear Hitoshi grab something from the fridge.

“You spend more time in the bathroom than I ever will.”

You snicker at your own comment before you feel something uncomfortably cold against your arm. You squeal and scatter away from your now laughing roommate.

“What the fuck?”

You scowl at him, grabbing your plate and a fork trying to get away from him.

“That was for the comment, but seriously take it.”

Hitoshi reveals that the cold object was a water bottle, and he hands it to you forcefully.

“You could have just, asked me to drink water.”

You hear a snort as you sit yourself on the couch, turning on you and Hitoshi’s favorite Youtuber.

“Like that has ever worked?”

You both settle into the couch, comfortable silence between you two. You both laugh at the same jokes the Youtuber makes, even though the two of you have watched this video a thousand times before it never gets old. You love mornings like these, window slightly cracked welcoming the cool breeze and outside noises into the shared apartment. Little decorations that scatter all over the home, showcasing both your and Hitoshi’s personalities. You were cuddled into the couch with a random plush that was bought just last week, Hitoshi cuddling with a much older stuffed animal.

“When are you meeting with Kaminari?”

You look up from your phone to look at your best friend who wasn’t meeting your eye. Since officially hearing confirmation about your theory about him having feelings for the blond, you suddenly felt a responsibility settle upon your shoulders. You desperately wanted to see your best friend in a happy and healthy relationship, considering his last ex was a literal nightmare for not only him but you as well. From your handful of interactions with Kaminari he seemed like a respectful and loving person. If he deals with Bakugou practically on the daily then he can most certainly handle Hitoshi.

“Um, around twelve.”

You take the last bite of your pancake, and Hitoshi who had been long finished stands up and takes your plate. You watch him walk away, before standing up as well and following him into the kitchen.

“Y/n, stop being weird.”

Hitoshi rinses the dishes then carefully places them in the dishwasher.

“I’ve never been weird a day in my life,” you say as you watch your best friend close the dishwasher.

He turns around, a frown on his face and a stern look in his eyes.

“You’ve been staring at me with that…look in your eyes. I don’t like it.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes and embrace the taller man into a hug. He complies, allowing you to take in his warmth.

“Come with me, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

You feel him play with the ends of your hair, his heartbeat starting to become more apparent.

“I don’t know n/n-“

You break from his arms grabbing his face and forcing him to look you in the eyes.

“I’m going to his house for the first time ever and he might have like, all of his friends over. I’m going to be awkward and uncomfortable and wishing you were there. So please? Just for some support?”

The two of you held eye contact for a minute. You could see the gears turning in his head.

He was probably trying to figure out ever out come of this day, watching his own imagination play out.

“Please Toshi?”

There was a moment of silence, the only noise coming from the street below you and the TV auto-playing the next video. Then, Hitoshi sighed.

“Fine. Now let go of me you dork.”

You quickly let go and smile wildly.

“Perfect! I’m gonna go get ready.”

You walk off into the hallway but stop once you get to your doorway. “And Toshi?”

“Hm?”

“You should brush your hair.”

“Fuck off.”

Knock knock knock

Kaminari groaned as he closed his laptop, watching Kirishima jump up from his spot on the couch and walk to the front door. Sero had to pause their game of Super Smash Bros which he seemed not to be happy about.

“Kiri!”

Mina jumped into Kirishima’s arms, the red head gladly welcoming her into his embrace. Kaminari cocked an eyebrow at Katsuki, who was standing behind Mina in the doorway. Katsuki simply rolled his eyes playfully, making Kaminari and Sero chuckle at the obvious pining between the two of their friends.

Katsuki flicked Mina’s back, stopping her rambling to Kirishima and she yelped loudly. She immediately turned around and started hitting Katsuki on his head and he easily defended himself by grabbing her wrists and dragging both of them in the house.

“Watch the nails!”

Katsuki let go of her and walked over to Sero, ignoring Mina’s cussing and ruffled Sero’s hair. Kaminari couldn’t help but stare at his group of friends, feeling his heart squeeze. He’s known these people for so long now, being able to grow up with them and see them grow up in the process.

His eyes drifted to Katsuki, realizing that he was the one who grew up and mature the most. To say the least, when he first met Katsuki he really didn’t respect him. Kaminari truly believed that he was some selfish guy who didn’t deserve anything that was coming his way. However, he couldn’t have been more wrong. Katsuki was just a hurt kid, not knowing how to deal with his own mental problems. He struggled with a lot of things, but with the help of being helped and humbled, he turned into a really good guy. Sure, he was still a bit of an asshole and seemed to be inconsiderate, but he really was kind and loving, just in his own Katsuki way. Seeing him grow up to become more affectionate and more communicative, it was truly remarkable. Kaminari was able to have deep and understanding conversations with Katsuki, along with being able to joke around with the blond. He was genuinely the brother he always dreamed of having, and he couldn’t have been happier to have that asshole in his life.

“I can’t believe you forgot we were coming over Denks!”

Mina was suddenly in his fridge, shuffling to find a soda she deemed worthy of drinking.

“Are we really that easy to forget?” Katsuki’s gruff voice was able to snap Kaminari out of his thoughts. He smiled sheepishly at the other man, who was leaned on the counter with his arms crossed. Mina walked over to him, their height difference always making Kaminari snicker, and she handed him a water.

Before he could respond to Katsuki, Kaminari felt his phone vibrate, shooting an apologetic smile at the other man and opened his phone quickly.

“Yo Denks, did you tell Katsu who’s coming over?”

Kirishima had his hands on his friend’s shoulders, squeezing them lightly enough to make Katsuki annoyed at the pressure.

“What is shitty hair talking about Denki?”

“Just one second Kacchan, let me respond to this.”

Kaminari felt his whole face flush. He didn’t know what to say, his whole body frozen from shock. Of course he wants Shinsou to come over, who wouldn’t want to have the most beautiful man he’s ever laid his eyes on in his own home? However, he doesn’t want to make a fool of himself. This wasn’t some house party with drinks that keeps him tipsy enough not to worry about Shinsou and his developing crush on the man. This was a casual work/hang out! This could get personal and make Shinsou hate his guts and never want to talk to him ever again!

“Denki, are you okay?” Mina’s soothing voice was able to calm his down a bit, feeling her long nails scratch his scalp just right. She was always able to read him like a book, and always knew exactly what to do when he got anxious.

“Yeah so, y/n asked if she could come over because she needed help with some editing stuff.”

Everyone in the room was now looking at Katsuki, who was stiff as a board. He looked inhuman in this moment, and Kaminari knew not even Mina could read him right now.

“And Shinsou is coming too apparently,” he said, getting off the stool and turning to Mina for a hug.

“Woah, didn’t know about that second part.” Kirishima chuckled, Kaminari heard a smack which he assumed was Kirishima hitting Katsuki on the back like he always does.

The red head walked over to Mina and Kaminari, making the blond pull away from his friend and walk away from the now crowd that was in his kitchen. He ran his fingers through his hair and sat next to Sero.

Sero was watching the whole thing from the living room, which surprised the blond.

To Kaminari’s demise, everyone migrated to the living room. Katsuki sat by himself in the arm chair, Mina sat herself down on floor back against the couch and Kirishima took the liberty of sitting next to Kaminari on the couch.

“Why are you freaking out dude? This is awesome!”

Kaminari put his hands on his face and fell into the cushions of the couch.

“If it makes you feel better,” Sero leaned into Kaminari’s ear, making him peek out of hands and look at his best friend who now had a shit-eating grin.

“Hot stuff over there is also gonna be with his crush.”

Slowly but surely, everyone slowly turned their heads at the ash blond, watching him tune back in the conversation.

“Fuck off!”

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。.

sweet nothing

i literally love them so much a tear was running down my face when i wrote this

you guys i recently wrote out a whole plot line for this series and im so excited like y’all are in for IT

anyways i rlly don’t have any fun facts, but if y’all have any questions i’ll answer 🫶🫶🫶

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[lostboyfritz]

Hi, I'm Detransistioning

As a child, I always felt different. Like I didn’t fit into the mold of being a girl. I loved rough housing, I liked bugs, I was obsessed with dinosaurs, I hated dresses - so much so that in every childhood photo of me wearing one I’m frowning. I rejected anything traditionally feminine. To the great glee of my dad, who rewarded me with approval for being a tomboy, someone who scoffed at the very idea of makeup, all the while poking fun at my sister when she spoke on anything too ‘girly’. My mom had also grown up as a tomboy, though now most people would have described the way she talked and acted when I was younger as a ‘pick me’ girl. Even my aunt celebrated my more rough exterior, celebrating my taste in music when it leaned more towards heavy rock instead of pop girlies. But, all while my identity was being praised and rewarded, I watched my sister be put in a box labelled 'shallow'. She was ‘lovingly’ mocked for her interests. Looking back, this dynamic was formative in ways I didn’t fully understand then. 

I want to be clear: I don’t blame my family for the choices I’ve made. I carry so much love for myself and the journey I’ve been on when it comes to my identity. It’s all part of who I am today, how I’ve learned about the world, the different perspectives on life I’ve gained. So while the way they treated me and my siblings as kids absolutely affected me, I was the one who made the choices I did. 

Besides, it wasn’t just their relationships that shaped this journey, but one with an ex-girlfriend especially as well. For three years I dated someone who would talk about how she always seemed to turn the girls she dates more masculine, how she had one ex go as far as transitioning, how she only seems to attract trans men. What I didn’t see during that relationship was the way she pushed gender roles on basic things like holding doors open or paying for meals. In a lesbian relationship it’s usually outsiders asking ‘who the man’ is, but with her I found I was oftentimes described by her as the ‘guy’ despite very few of my actions being all that masculine. In reality I find I love the housewife life, cleaning and organizing, cooking, getting everyone ready for the day. That didn’t matter though, because she was a master manipulator, and while there is a lot that needs to be discussed on what abuse looks like in lesbian and sapphic relationships, this isn’t what this post is for. But to make this a little more concise; Due to the subtle ways she'd reward specific behavior, I’d find myself masculinizing myself to earn her approval, desperate to feel worthy of her love amid a lot of emotional and financial abuse. I didn’t realize how much internalized misogyny was at play - how deeply it was influencing me from childhood to my early twenties.

The first time I cut my hair short was a pivotal moment. I was still living in Miami Beach, I was still being scrutinized by my then girlfriend, still being made to ask permission to see and talk to family or old friends I hadn’t seen in years. I was in a bad place, enduring an overwhelming amount of abuse I kept gaslighting myself into believing was all in my head. But then, looking in the mirror, I didn’t recognize the person staring back at me. Getting my hair cut into a bob cut felt like a fresh start, so I went even shorter, taking the scissors to my own hair now, cutting away little by little. I was misgendered in public for the first time, which ignited a mix of fear and strange relief. 

My relationship began falling apart soon after. The more I clung to this new identity, the more confident I was to be the type of person that stood up for themselves. That stopped gaslighting what they knew was happening. The identity that I adopted saved my life, because the person I was before was convinced the only way out of that relationship was if I killed myself. I also thought that presenting as male would shield me from further abuse. In hindsight, I see how flawed that belief was. Abuse doesn’t discriminate, and men often endure it without even realizing it. It’s normalized for girls to be ‘possessive’ of their man, or to not let them have other friends that are women, or to demand they stop their own hobbies like gaming rather than coming to compromises.  The same goes for power dynamics in sapphic relationships, a topic we truly don’t talk about enough. I’m hoping that this blog? Platform? Whatever this turns into gives space to hold those conversations, and while the internet is where nuance goes to die, I’m still hopeful a door will open. 

When I fled that relationship, and I do mean the term fled literally, I moved back in with my parents in San Diego, where access to gender therapy and HRT was straightforward. For some, that ease of access is a blessing. A lifeline that keeps them holding on just a little bit longer. For me, though, it was a lifeline I wasn’t fully prepared for. I was quietly unraveling mentally, and while gender-affirming care is vital and should be accessible, my journey highlighted the need for comprehensive support, including therapy with someone that better understood abuse in lgbt+ relationships. 

This post isn’t about criticizing access to care. I wholeheartedly believe trans people deserve access to gender-affirming treatment without unnecessary barriers. Therapy is valuable but it shouldn’t be a gatekeeping tool. Everyone deserves to explore their identity safely, even when their resources and finances are limited. This post is to highlight the opposite actually. It’s to say that if more resources had been available, if more conversations regarding internalized misogyny surrounding the lesbian community were being had, if therapists that specialized in domestic abuse also understood the complexities behind lgbt+ relationships and the desire to give all the love you were rejected due to being gay away to someone who shows you the slightest amount of love in return, and if conversations surrounding the transgender experience were welcome in ALL lgbtq+ spaces, then maybe my path would have looked a little bit different. 

Eventually, I found a relationship that let me grieve my past while learning what healthy communication actually looks like. Communication without accusations, without yelling, without name calling. For the first time, I had a space to mourn the loss of my feminine self without judgment. I spent years trying to make sense and convince myself it was normal to miss who I was before transitioning as deeply as I did. I asked other trans men if they felt the same, and they’d always explain it as holding love for who they were before they found themselves, and that it was an adjustment, but never quite the way that I felt. My wife taught me that everyone, including and especially me, deserves love. She saw the parts of me that I’d tried to bury and gave me the space to heal. 

I will never be able to explain the grace that she has given me to explore my identity, my self-worth, and self-love, and I certainly will never be able to thank her enough for it. 

Growing up as a tomboy, I absorbed a lot of misogyny. My sister Brandy’s interests - makeup, shopping, beaches and bright color pastels - were dismissed as shallow, while my more “masculine” hobbies were praised. I even started to mock her love of makeup to keep my dad’s approval. Now, I see makeup as an underrated art form. Rejecting romance books for fantasy because romance books were all poorly written erotica? Silly, because I’ve learned that I adore lighthearted love stories and actually they can be written so well with some of the most dynamic characters I’ve ever read. 

Exploring femininity has been a healing process. Playing a hyper-femme D&D character helped me safely reconnect with that side of myself. Her name is Nora, she loves dresses, nature, and animals. She also struggles deeply with feminine rage, and has been exploring the idea that feminism isn’t just about powerful women, but the choice of being whatever kind of woman you want to be - even a cutesy little housewife. Watching films like Captain Marvel, Barbie, Wandavision, and most recently, Agatha All Along gave me new perspectives on what being a woman can look like. How, no matter what you do, how hard you try, whether you grieve inward or outward, women will always be criticized. There is no safe space for women outside of the arms of other women.

I’m documenting this journey not to sensationalize destransitioning but to share my experience. I want to highlight how the lack of resources and safe spaces can lead to identity struggles. I’ll also share my love for sapphic media, which has challenged my preconceptions about lesbian identity. Channels like Rose and Rosie challenged my learned toxic need to peg someone in a lesbian/sapphic relationship as the ‘guy’. Neither one of them takes on a ‘man’s’ role in the relationship because, shocker, the very idea that there is a ‘mans’ role is misogynistic! Cammden Scott’s video from years ago discussing her struggles of coming out and being a gay femme helped to challenge this perspective that I had where there were only two options of lesbians: Hyper-Butch or Hyper-Femme sex symbol. There wasn't any in between because growing up that’s all that was available to me and neither one sat well with me. I didn’t get to see just your average girl that wasn’t excruciatingly feminine or intimidatingly butch exist successfully or without being shot for shock value, or without being used to showcase what addiction looked like. Sapphics just didn’t get happy endings when I was growing up. 

Creators like CozyK inspire me to have deeper discussions and create space where transphobia isn't going to be tolerated. I want to be a voice for those on similar journeys while not turning my back on a part of the community that, frankly, had a huge influence on the rights many of us in the community take advantage of in the day to day. What Kennedy does for her internet community is inspiring to me, reminding her viewers to relax, to take time for themselves, and give themselves grace to just exist and heal. Another creator I want to try and emulate is The Book Leo. Her videos discussing tropes or commentary on romantasy or subgenres or even the booktok community are so well researched and designed. I want to emulate the calm way that she shares her thoughts and how in depth she’s able to go on the various books that she’s read. Both for the books I plan to read and share here, but also the deeper discussions on identity, gender, the lgbtq+ community as a whole, the whole spectrum of content I want to make here. 

Originally I had thought about making YouTube content, and maybe one day that will happen. But where I live now is too oppressive to do so. I live in a very red city in Florida, the house I live at with my wife is not the most accepting to LGBTQ+ folk and have no idea that I'm even remotely queer, and we are in the process of saving up to move up north - likely to Wisconsin or some other Midwestern state. Besides, writing has always been a passion of mine.

This Tumblr will focus on self-reflection, cozy hobbies, and sapphic media. While destransitioning is part of my story, I don’t want it to be the sole focus of the space I'm creating. Instead, I want to celebrate the journey of self-discovery and the importance of the lesbian community that frankly gets talked over a lot. 

If this resonates with you, follow, reblog, or feel free to ask me questions. I’d love for this to be a space where we can connect and support one another. A warning, however, I will be blocking any and all hate directed towards trans people, lesbians, and any otherwise offensive language. I’m not going to embolden hate, terfs, or chosen ignorance to the nuance behind this post, but I do welcome calm discussions because I know what a major topic this is right now. 

So, while I do hope we meet again, if this is your only stop with me, I’m glad we got the chance to meet.