#but I will always have a soft spot in my heart for seeing people create and put their whole hearts into their self inserts

[honeydjarin]

I'm obsessed with the absolute range that exists for self insert OCs. I've read fics about OCs that are reincarnated into the world from this one (amazing). I've seen OCs that are isekaied, usually finding themselves to be either overpowered or absolutely pathetic in their new world (beautiful). I've seen artists put hours of work into characters that are just them but a little different (perfect). I've seen OCs that aren't human with so much dedication and care put into fleshing them out (spectacular).

I love seeing people just have fun with their favorite worlds and characters. I love how many people wish they could be a part of their favorite stories—and aren't afraid to make it so in whatever way they can.

[grimmweepers]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄: OCT 3RD

— ♤ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: yandere!dottore x assistant!fem reader

— ♤ 𝐜𝐰: obsessive yandere behaviour, emotional manipulation, psychological manipulation, stalking, build up to smut is longish sorry, reader is gullible, dubcon, no preparation, pussy slapping (once), he calls you sweetheart, pet, pup, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, power imbalance, biting, 3.5k wc, 18+ only, MDNI.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It started with curiosity.

Maybe it was the softness in your voice as you confidently sat in his office, explaining why you would be perfect for the job, or perhaps the way you held onto the belief that he was a good person. But once Dottore saw how much you lit up when he offered you a position on the spot, he knew right then he needed to keep you close. 

This new revelation almost terrified him. 

Your voice was so innocent, clinging to him like honeysuckle, and that warmth behind your smile—it was too pure, too untainted. It had to be locked away before the world could tarnish it.

If you had paid attention, you would’ve noticed how his gaze lingered a little too long when you spoke; how his questions would dive deeper the more you got to know him.

You were ignorant of how much Dottore had deeply ingrained himself into every facet of your life, playing the role of the emotionally distant boss who eventually found comfort in your company. He saw that flicker of trust in your eyes and allowed you to believe you were the only person who could see the real him—“the man behind the mask who bled his heart and soul to you when nobody else was looking.” 

Everything was calculated. Subtle. You had become his latest obsession—a sweet, little experiment where the only result he deemed acceptable would be having you wrapped around his finger. So he made sure he was the first you turned to when things went wrong, planting seeds of doubts about everyone you knew. 

“Forgive me but your friends don’t seem to understand you.”

At first, you dismissed his comments but over time his critiques took root. You saw flaws in people that seemingly weren’t there before which made you wonder if it was truly only Dottore who had your best interest at heart. Gradually, you began to rely on him as your only confidant. Your rock. But it didn’t stop at just your relationships. Dottore had inserted himself into your daily routine, providing solutions for problems you hadn’t realised he created. After minor inconveniences and projects falling through, he was always there to pick up the pieces.

“Here, let me help you with that.”

And every time he did, you felt more indebted to him.

Dottore strung you along for years, feeding you enough affection to have you tethered with him while subtly isolating you from others. And when he finally made you his girlfriend, it was less a declaration of love and more of a confirmation of his control over you.

But you didn’t need to know that. 

You are his precious masterpiece, sculpted into the ideal partner—no longer the person you once were but a reflection of his twisted desires. 

When calling him “Doctor” transitioned from a professional title to something you moaned whenever he plowed you with his cock, it was difficult for him not to start touching himself at random hours of the day. 

Fortunately for him, he could simply just find you while you were working and suddenly, there was something hard pressed against your ass! It always satisfied him a great deal knowing how willing you were to please him, no matter the time of day.  

Sometimes he pitied you for never catching on so the first time you went astray, he was somewhat glad that his little darling wasn’t so dense.

“Dottore, I’m finding it difficult to get through to you. I feel suffocated. I’m worried about us.”

He glanced up from his notebook, almost affectionately, “You’re overthinking it, my dear.”

“I think we need some time apart," your words tasted bitter. "I just… need to clear my head. I’m sorry,” you felt guilty for even suggesting it.

“Time apart?” he repeated with a false frown, dropping his book to look at you wholly. “For how long?’

“I’m not sure.”

A tense silence hung between you, and you tried to steady your breath.

“Darling, you’re not making any sense,” he blinked.

“It makes sense to me,” you protested, “I wasn’t asking.”

Truth be told, he was more amused than angered. Although, he wondered what it was that finally provoked your sudden notion. Sure, disagreements were more frequent but it had been so long since this all began. He thought his tactics would be something you were used to by now. Perhaps you were starting to see everything for what it truly was.

Perhaps not.

Your voice was trembling but you were firm in your resolve. Dottore liked that you thought you had a choice, so he entertained you by letting the last of his smile fade from his lips, eyes narrowing in your direction. 

“So a break, then? If you think that will benefit us, I understand. But I’m not a mind reader. If something bothers you, you have to tell me, okay?”

His words seemed to melt some of your worries away so you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. Could you really doubt someone so patient, so willing to give you space when you needed it? 

“Really?”

“Of course," the lie effortlessly slipped between his teeth, "I respect your boundaries."

You nodded as you squeezed his hand and before you could turn away, his grip tightened. “Before you go, let me remind you that I love you, so very much.” 

And without warning, he kissed you. It was lingering, with no remorse, disguised as a parting gift—as if to say he know you’d be back.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” you said, feeling conflicted. 

“Doing what?” He questioned.

Dottore knew exactly what he was doing. 

———

Weeks had passed but your time away from him was restless. Days felt semi-wakeful and what emerged was not clarity but the creeping sense that the world was conspiring against you.

It was like your life had taken an irreparable turn. Work became a constant setback, and friends you thought you had made you feel isolated and adrift. Even your home, which once felt cozy and safe, was starting to feel clinical and cold. 

And who would be the one to orchestrate your misery other than the Doctor himself? That vendor who suddenly couldn’t get your orders right? A bribe from Dottore. The neighbours who started fighting at all hours? A couple he had manipulated into conflict. Even your small office, a place that once made you feel so productive, now felt claustrophobic and stifling thanks to subtle changes he made while you were away.

Each of these inconveniences wore you down, making you long for the comfort and stability that only Dottore had ever provided. 

So when you received a short and carefully worded letter from him, asking how you were, you felt a surge of relief. You didn’t hesitate to see him that very evening, desperate to talk in person.

Before you knew it, you were falling right into his hands.

On your feet, you headed straight to the entrance of his lab and stared at the door before you gave a knock.

“Come in,” he said from inside.

The moment you saw him, he greeted you with that charming smile, and suddenly all the frustration from the past weeks melted away. You rushed into his arms, burying your face into his chest, “I missed you.”

He held you close, stroking the back of your head with practiced gentleness, “Ah! You’re finally back. I can’t say I’ve been happy without you.” 

If he was beaming out of satisfaction, you were blind to it. You were too distracted by the need to hear him say it back, to say that he missed you. But instead of the words you longed to hear, he merely held you tighter.

Looking up at him, your eyes searched for reassurance, “Did you miss me?”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss on your forehead, “Of course.”

“Everything’s been so hard,” tears began to well up, “I can’t believe I distanced myself when I needed you the most.” 

He was always enthralled whenever he was right.

“Let’s not dwell on that, shall we? I’m here now so don’t fret.”

His words felt like a balm to your wounded soul and you clutched onto his coat as if he might vanish if you let go. You could not refuse him and he wouldn’t allow that option to exist. Dottore watched you, elated with himself, “Come,” he said, taking your hand towards his familiar private quarters, “I have something for you.” 

After closing the door behind him, his gaze remained on you, “I was hoping you would see me sooner rather than later,” he started, guiding you to the couch where the two of you sat. “We have much to catch up on.”

Dottore wore his grief convincingly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate crystal necklace that flickered like ice in the light, “I don’t want to lose you again.” Your heart skipped a beat as he put it on for you, the weight of it cold against your skin. When you relaxed your guard, he leaned in and whispered in your ear, “I can’t lose you. I won’t.” 

You thanked him for the gift but felt him craning your head to the side.

“It’s ice quartz," he purred, "For the pure love I have for you. For the healing that I hope it brings to your troubled heart. I’m sorry.”

There was a pause—a thoughtful stillness, and without another word, he kissed the exposed skin of your neck as if you beckoned him to. 

His lips were impossible to resist, each kiss slowly claiming you as he trailed his way to your mouth. You allowed your hands to explore his hair, messing up the neatness that once was.

Dottore wasted no time, the moment his lips met yours, you felt his hungry tongue and how it tasted of false apologies and something sickeningly sweet. He kissed you like he was starved—like he'd wanted his mouth on yours for weeks.

"Do you still—" he lightly pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, "—feel suffocated?"

Yes, you wanted to say. But for an entirely different reason now. This type of suffocation made your head spin and left something tingling between your legs.

"No," you finally answered against him. A string of saliva connected the small space between your lips. You relaxed under him and he took it as a chance to shuffle himself between your thighs.

"Hmm, I'm glad," he smirked before forcing another kiss out of you. Between gasps for air, his impatient hands found the hem of your blouse, unbuttoning it as he pushed you on your back. You pulled him down with you because you refused to part from the sinful way his lips collided with yours.

Piece by piece, layers of clothes began to disappear until you were left with nothing except the necklace he had given you. 

Spread out like this, you were ravishing, like a fine piece of art and the sight of you went straight to his cock. It throbbed in his slacks and you could hear his breathing growing uneven. At that moment, he could’ve taken you like an animal but he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

“Mmh!” you moaned in surprise as he cupped your breast, fondling your sensitive nipples and practically anywhere else that was available to him. He was so precise in everything he did, it was no wonder he was in his profession. 

The time you spent apart had left you already aching for him so when he dipped his fingers between your quivering thighs, he felt your arousal. You were hot and puffy and embarrassingly wet.

Dottore began to toy with your clit and it pulsed under the pads of his fingers. You moaned instantly. But he was excruciatingly light with his touch which only made you desperate for more friction. You whined and even though the sound of it made his heart beat quickly, his face was unreadable.

“Patience,” he urged. Dottore waited for you for weeks and you had the nerve to whine? At the very least you could have made up for the time you robbed from him. 

You intended to listen. You really did! But when his fingers teased the entrance of your hole, your body acted before you could think and suddenly, your hips rolled towards him. He had barely even touched you before he stopped. 

Tsk, you heard from him, clearly disappointed by your lack of control.

Instead of continuing, he gave your pussy a sudden slap which left you whimpering. 

“Why—!” You trembled, feeling its stinging aftermath.

Why?

Simply put, he decided he wasn’t going to bother with what you wanted. 

In exchange for running away from him, he would show you that not everything was served on a silver platter. Seeing you go from distressed to dependent on him only excited him more. No one riles him up in the way that you do so he couldn’t bear to wait a second longer. 

“Stay like this,” there was something deranged about the smile that appeared on his face. The clinical white glow of his quarters dulled his pale skin yet his teeth glistened through his lips. You felt a chill and it wasn't because of the cold air.

He pulled away and you were immediately drawn to the tight bulge pressing against his pants. Dottore noticed. He knew you were watching.

"Now open your legs for me," he said, breaking you out of your daze. You shifted pathetically under him so it was ultimately his large hand, splayed across your thigh that held you in place. You saw his erection twitch when his eyes fell on your hole, drenched for him and all.

After quickly undoing his trousers, he pushed his throbbing length inside you in one, deep stroke. Your hands curled into the cushions and you were prepared to scream—

"Perfect," he breathed. You didn't need proper preparation. He knew your body better than you did.  

Your voice was lodged in your throat as his girth stretched you apart and Dottore couldn’t help throwing his head back, curses falling from his lips at how well you hugged him. You were so beautiful like this. He couldn’t wait to fuck you back into obedience. It was your fault for being this way, really. You were just so malleable, so easy.

“Ah, look at you. So wet already, my little pup. Did you miss me that much?” 

“Yes, I did. Yes, I did, Doctor!” you whimpered, and he began thrusting as if rewarding you for your response. His hips slammed mercilessly into yours at an unexpected pace, and you couldn’t even think about any of your frustrations anymore — each time he slid in and out was like erasing all the concerns you had before this. 

“Dottore,” he corrected you. “You call me by my name today.” There was a slight strain in his voice as he fucked you but that was better than what was going on with you. With each thrust bucking into your sweet spot, you could hardly talk. 

The coat on his back ruffled behind him with each erratic movement. It was almost humiliating how he remained entirely clothed as he rammed into you. Your bare skin was on display yet not so much as a zipper and his disheveled hair was out of place for him.

Maybe he was too eager, you thought. Or maybe it was because he wouldn’t strip himself for the likes of you. Not when he was trying to remind you that being with him was a luxury. What he needed to etch into your subconscious was: 

You could get whatever you want as long as you stay and listen. 

Huffing at the sensation of being balls deep inside your pussy, he held you with a bruising grip on your waist, fucking you in a way that had you drooling. You were trying to remember a time when he wasn’t the one making you happy or giving you pleasure — but you couldn’t. Because it didn’t exist. 

“Dott…ore,” you called breathlessly, your voice mixing with the sound of your necklace clinking against your chest. He knew you very well, you had more to say than just the spilling of his name. He could see it in your damn eyes. 

Lowering himself to your neck, he rutted you even further into the couch, “What is it, my dear?” He asked, biting into you, feeling his hot and heavy breath fanning your skin. You yelped as his teeth clenched, knowing there was going to be a mark later. 

“I… love… you…” The words came out in a broken whisper, the sincerity of your confession made his cock twitch inside of you, precum already painting the insides of your hole. 

His tongue began to trace a slow and deliberate path from your neck to your ear, keeping his relentless rhythm as he did. “Is that right?” There was a cruel edge to his voice when he spoke. And you nodded back at him, feebly. Truthfully. 

“Then act like it,” he hissed, grip tightening as he thrusted sharply.

You shuddered underneath him—out of fear or pleasure, you weren’t sure but you knew you didn’t want it to end. You pulled him closer, winding your hands around his neck while he was deep inside you. “I’m— sorry!” you moaned, an apology slipping out in a haze. 

He almost growled at the sensation of you trembling around him, his crimson eyes searing into you, “No, it’s not your fault. I should have paid better attention to you.”

Another lie but exactly what you needed to hear to keep you going.

Lewd squelching sounds filled the room as he reduced you to a filthy mess. Even in your years of being with him, you had never seen him so untamed. Your juices were getting all over his trousers and if you knew any better, you would've seen how he got off on that.

You had almost forgotten where you were, though, at that point, you didn’t care about whether anybody else in the building heard. He fucked you hard and desperately, whatever he needed to do to keep his darling at bay, and you shamelessly cried out his name over and again. It was adorable.

“Dottore… I’m close—! Fuck. Fuck!” You swallowed your words as he pounded you. 

"Dirty mouth," he grunted, "Who taught you how to speak like that?"

He hovered above you, so close you could almost feel his hair tickling your face. "Nobody," you moaned quietly this time, feeling ashamed.

Every veiny inch of him was inside you and the more you felt of it, the less you thought. You just wanted to snap, to cum on him while he drove into you.

“Oh my, you're getting tighter,” he cooed, his voice deceptively gentle as he neared his own release. “Feeling good, sweetheart? Finish with me then…” 

Fortunately—or unfortunately, his pace became rougher, like a repeated reminder of who he was to you and his hand traveled to your jaw, tipping your head to meet his gaze. Amid your bodies thrashing, he could barely keep up with his own voice,

“No one will ever love you like me

or care about you like me

or fuck you like me. Do you understand, pet?” 

“Yes—! Yes, I do,” you panted as you wrapped your legs around him, pulling his hips further into your sloppy cunt. In your lust-clouded daze, you were too weak to register the weight of his words. His sultry voice did a great job at masking the fact that he meant every single thing he said. 

Dottore’s face twisted into a more sadistic smile, letting his thoughts get the best of him. He relished in how little and helpless you sounded, how utterly pliant you were to his will. Everything felt right again and you were back to where he had woven you. With a final, brutal snap of his hips, he spilled his seed inside you, locking himself against you. 

You arched your back as your orgasm crashed simultaneously—you moaned collectively, and your walls pulsed around his cock like you were milking every drop he’s got. His hips stuttered, not giving a damn about the way your nails bit into his skin. Instead, he slammed his lips onto yours, devouring you in a messy, filthy kiss—a perfect match for the way he had just fucked you senseless.

Still panting, he clutched the side of your face, only gentler now. His thumb stroked your cheek as if savouring the moment of seeing you act the way you should.

“I love you,” he hummed, the words slipped from his lips like it was so natural to him. "I love you."

Of course, he loved you. Everything he has done for you was for himself. Everything has been catered to him. 

His sweat-speckled forehead shimmered in the dim light and as you looked up at him, your heart softened. The weight of him on top of you and the comfort in his embrace made you forget everything, lulling you into a peaceful state. 

You sighed, feeling a bit foolish for even creating a wall between you. In front of you, he seemed so fragile, like you were the only thing holding him together. How could you have thought he was anything but honest with you all along?

Now, everything felt perfect—perfect in a way that left no room for anything else. 

No room for doubt or escape.

a/n: imagine at the end of this you think it's over and suddenly his segments walk in

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

dividers by @/astrumaur

[krys4h]

𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ◞﹒୧ .

✧ ⁝ 𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 ◞ ྀི

— my thoughts & headcanons on how i think he would be as a lover (or not...) fluff, nsfw, hurt.

𓍯 a silent lover. the type to love in secret, hidden from sight. cold facade, worried heart for his loved ones. you feel his affection in the little things like when you feel down and he always prepares your favorite meal without a word, trying to create comfort and affection that he can't express with words. a confession would be too loud for him.

𓍯 he prefers to watch, observe and protect those he cares about behind their backs. the type to lie to you about his schedule - because it's physically impossible for him to verbalize his feelings - and go secretly confront a devil who was giving you a hard time.

𓍯 aki loves to make love to you during rainy days, forehead pressed against yours, his breath brushing your lips. it's intimate, despite the fact he run away from any emotional intimacy. he can't say i love you with his mouth, makima's shadow covering his heart and his words but he can convey his feelings in his kisses, his hands that circle around your clit, touching in spots nobody did.

𓍯 his eyes that soften only for yours will always follow you, everywhere you're going.

𓍯 he spend his night looking at you when you're sleeping, wondering why God gave him such a gift in his life but not enough time to cherish it.

𓍯 you always felt it even though it was silent. he seemed so detached from you, always careful that his eyes didn't linger on you for too long - attempt failed, they always found you -, you had to squint, see the unsaid, and understand the innuendos to perceive the love he had for you.

𓍯 it takes time. it takes time to go from a cold look when judging a stranger, to the first nods, the first half-smiles that precede the softened glances. it took him time to get used to having someone who cares for him like you do. maybe it was complicated to accept the fact that he was finally the first choice for someone, and not the forgotten youngest of his family like he always was. your warm air when you saw him coming from afar felt weird for him, almost inappropriate. when you seemed too happy to see him he couldn't help but frown at how your eyes always looked illuminated for him. weird. almost inappropriate.

𓍯 it takes time, but the slight pang in his heart he feels every time he feels your affection for him is slowly starting to disappear. he can't be openly expressive like you, but he's starting to accept it. it takes time. his love is silent when yours is so loud that it becomes overwhelming and he feels like he doesn't deserve it.

𓍯 it's understandable, everyone is dying around him. he's the only one who hasn't lost his humanity yet and mourns the deaths of those who defend the people of this city. it touches him. death scares him so much that he can't allow himself to truly get attached to someone, it would be like welcoming someone with big arms for a hug with arms full of thorns. to engulf you, to make you dive with him. no, he can't. he really can't.

𓍯 it doesn't matter how his breath hitches every time he feels when your silhouette towers over him, your hips undulating in the most exquisite way, so eager to please him. he doesn't even need to guide you with his hands on your hips, it's already too good. it doesn't matter the almost painful but sweet feeling he has in his stomach when the lights are out with the only sounds being the creaking bed and your soft breath. he feels so safe with you, you make him so wanted that he starts to think that life might be worth living outside of his desire for revenge.

𓍯 but it doesn't matter, he can't say "i love you", the poor man doesn't even manage to smile normally. there's always an awkward look.

𓍯 he was so caught up in the curse of his family's vengeance that he had closed himself off from any relationship that went beyond the professional sphere. but... it was hard not to succumb to you. he couldn't give you the bright future and romance you deserved, but he could give you the remnants of his heart he had left. working with you, doing missions and hunting devils together, and sometimes, when you were a little too drunk, kisses on the neck that would slip into panting. no commitment. that was what he could offer you. he thought it would protect him from the loss of not putting a word on your relationship, like a wall for pain. he lied to himself so much. he was already madly in love, and if he were to lose you right now, it would be the end of him.

𓍯 it was up to you to decode if the hands that brushed you at night sought only for pleasure or for your heart, because even if for a moment, you would lose control of your emotions and let your love for him express itself, an "i love you" that should have remained hidden, he would not answer it.

𓍯 aki loves you too, that's a fact. but he wouldn't let you see it. he wasn't going to make the mistake of investing too much in a relationship that was inevitably going to go badly, and make you hope. you deserved better, he thought. you were his heaven in the hell that was the daily life of a devil hunter. so dear, so precious to him.

𓍯 𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The landing | joel miller x f!reader, 13.2k

Summary: You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you. Or The one where your orbits finally collide for the final showdown.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, NO SPOILER (read A/N), ANGST, cheater!joel, discussions of infidelity, mention of food consumption, yelling, crying, the briefest mention of smut thoughts, sprinkle of fluff (blink and you'll miss it), as always let me know if I missed anything 👀

A/N: Ok, *deep breath* I know I can't make everyone happy unless I write alternate endings 😅 and I understand that infidelity can be a very triggering concept. I gave them the ending I felt they both deserved, but if you're looking for a story where they are at each other's throats for 13k words, maybe this is not for you and you are more than welcome to kindly move on. I won't spoil the ending in the Warnings, so proceed with caution, you know what the main theme is all about. All I can tell you is that this part of the story is divided into two main scenes because I didn't want to drag it out with one little scene after another. *she says after spilling 13k words🙄sorry about that👀* As always, I would love to read your thoughts on the last part and please keep in mind that writing is almost always self-indulgent.

P.S. I want to thank each and every one of you for the love I received for this mini-series, I never thought it would engage so many people. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You've all been so kind and sweet to me, so this journey filled my heart with joy! I love you all, take care of yourselves and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! Oh! My asks are always open if you want to know more about their story. I could even write drabbles or one-shots about anything you'd like to know in particular. Ily, bye 😘

P.S. I deliberately left the last two lines without clarification of who says what, I leave that up to you. 🤍

Dividers by @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics @plum98

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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FOUR YEARS AFTER THE FALL

Are you still falling?

You’re not sure anymore. Maybe you’re just used to it. Or maybe you just learned how to fly. It certainly feels like everything has slowed down. Sometimes it feels like floating. As if you’re a feather, so lightweight, swirling around aimlessly. But you can never touch the ground. Gravity can’t quite pull you down. Every time you feel like you’re finally landing, a force of nature pulls you back up.

Maybe it is a soft, warm, summer breeze, a memory of Joel.

Maybe it is a whirlwind, a contact from the lawyers.

Maybe it is a snowstorm, sign the papers, please.

Maybe it is the whispering of a gentle wind, the possibilities of what might have been, or the lack of real closure.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

You never thought you’d enjoy leaving the big city and making a home for yourself on a ranch. But you loved it. You loved the peace and quiet, you loved this new community of people, you loved taking care of the horses, riding them, being around them. And then there was the house. A place you could almost call home. It was beautiful, rustic, warm, inviting, lacking none of the comforts a modern house needs, because you can’t quite get the big city girl out of you. The entire land had a soft, yellow-golden light enveloping every tree and every rock, everywhere your eyes reached, as if the sun shone differently here.

The days are easy. The chores are more than enough to keep you focused, there’s always something to do around here. It feels good to be busy, to keep your mind from dwelling on the past. You welcome the exhaustion of a full day’s work that accompanies your body when night comes.

Evenings are mostly good. You shower the day off, you cook, you chill on the couch with a good book or a film and more often than not, as the time passes and you feel more comfortable sharing the privacy of your home, you have friends over for dinner and drinks.

Nights though, nights are hard. At night, you pray that you are tired to the point of exhaustion so that you can sleep through it peacefully. Sometimes it works, but most of the time, not so much.

Time has intensified and lessened your emotional burden simultaneously.

The sharp pain that feels like thick acid being poured into you mellows in an inexplicable way. It still hurts, the pain oozing out of your every single pore even in a physical way. Only now, it has transformed into a sweet, slow poison conquering every hollow of your body, every vein leading from your heart to the ends of your limbs.

It’s almost a welcoming feeling, this pain, reminding you that you’re still alive, that he was real, that everything that happened was real. Because sometimes, sometimes, when you let yourself relax, when you let your guard down, all of this feels like a dream. Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the night, confused, reaching with your hand for the other side of the bed and finding it empty. And for a split second you get that feeling. The feeling of how it used to be with him next to you.

Then you remember.

You know why this is happening and who’s responsible for it. This is a mix-up. This is what your treacherous brain does to mess with your resolve. It blends the bad stuff into the good, creating the strangest of concoctions. The clear image of black and white, neatly and perfectly hung in the center of the walls of your mind is now splashed with colorful memories from your life together, like a Pollock painting. You do your best to resist, to bring back scenes from all the vivid recollections of the night your life changed forever but your uncooperative brain pops another memory up, a good fuckin’ memory, like a projector, illuminating those bare imaginary walls with laughter and touches and whispers and scents and warmth. It’s relentless.

This dichotomy creates an uneasiness inside you, you choose to reject and pretend not to notice. Which in turn leads to self-contempt because, as always you can’t lie to yourself. You may lie to others but deep in your core you have to be honest with yourself. That is something you’re owed. To be aware, present in the reality of your life. So, you know, you know, you just sweep things under the carpet as a copy mechanism. You know what you should do.

You should confront him. You should demand answers and then finally say what you need to say to him. Not for him, not for his sake, but for yours. But you can’t. You've lost count of how many times you've picked up the phone and your thumb hovered over his contact to call him but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. And every time you tried to text him, to start a conversation, it felt too awkward. The only acceptable subject of discussion initiated by you was the progress of the divorce papers. You were unable to even remotely insinuate a more meaningful encounter. And he didn’t make any advances either. Not that you gave him any room to try and talk to you, but still, he seemed more settled with that, rather than not.

Maybe that fact itself was your cue to let it all go. He’s probably moved on. You don’t cheat on someone so blatantly and then want them back. Obviously, this whole delaying of the divorce is a power play, like everything else, it seems.

Good, yeah, that’s it. That’s it.

Now, let go. Move on. You solved it. Let go.

But this annoying little voice is scratching the walls of your weary brain, nudging the limits of the carefully made up serenity that’s hanging by a thread.

You should confront him. For your peace of mind, for your equilibrium.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

It’s early in the evening and you’re in the garden in front of the house near the porch, on your knees, plucking a few weeds from the ground. The fatigue of the day’s work has begun to take its toll on you, your shoulder is slightly trembling as you rest your weight on one palm to dig around with the other. Sweat covers your torso, rolling down between the valley of your breasts and the hollow between your spine, leaving your t-shirt clinging to your skin, your hair sticking to your forehead, which is lightly covered in a thin layer of dirt at some places as you keep wiping your forearm over the little beads of salty water that concentrate over your brows.

You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you.

There's an overload of sensations before you shift your body around to confirm what you already know in your bones. You can smell him, taste him, feel him on your suddenly tingling skin, all at the same time.

You turn slowly and your breath hitches on your throat. You just stay in place, frozen, time infinitely stretching as you take him in from where you kneel on the ground. He stops abruptly the second his eyes meet yours and you could swear he’s holding his breath, his face completely unreadable.

He looks.. he looks like your Joel and nothing like him simultaneously. Soft yet imposing. Handsome yet battered. Determined yet lost. His clothing is simpler, dark jeans, green flannel over a black t-shirt and laced boots, as if he just returned from a working site. His curls are longer, framing his handsome face in a ridiculously good way, more white hairs nestle in his beard that is not that trimmed. Neither of you speak quite yet, taking each other in.

Your mind, your bizarre, ridiculous mind is working on figuring out what day it is. Why does it matter? Did you have an appointment? This is unexpected and a long time coming all at once, regardless of the day of the week. What comes next? Do you draw up an astrological map to determine if it's a compatible date for you to meet? Get it together.

Your facial expression must be pretty funny because Joel smiles awkwardly while scratching one side of his bearded cheek; hey, it’s me.

No, shit, you mentally respond, as if you could ever forget him. Furious is the word that best describes you because these are his first words? Hey, it’s me? And that feeling escalates into an explosive retort because you now realize that you had expectations. His first words? Who cares what his first words are? Were you expecting a tearful reunion, masterfully staged and executed like a romantic film? The guy betrayed you in your own house, sorry, his house. Wake the fuck up.

“Did you sign the papers?” you spit as you rise from your spot and he reacts as if you have punched him in the stomach. His face falls; you see a series of micro-expressions pass over his features before he settles on the last one. Has he been hurt? Did you hurt his feelings? Did he also have expectations?

“Uh-”, Joel raises his brows in genuine surprise, things probably not going the way he expected or hoped.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”, he replies with mild mockery.

Your eyes snap shut and you laugh in anger, lowering your chin to your chest and then looking back up at him, your eyes blazing, your brows mimicking his previously surprised expression, “Are you serious right now?” you cross your hands defensively over your chest.

You stare at each other for a good minute, both of you taking a moment to compose yourselves and regain your balance.

You break first, dropping your head back to your chest, looking down at the heel of your shoe scraping the ground beneath you, exhaling audibly.

“Hey,” Joel tries again, after speaking your name tenderly, your name on his lips, his head dipping down and to the side to try and get your attention back to him, his gaze filled with a mixture of warmth, regret and fear, “hi.”

You shake your head from side to side in repentance, what a great start this is, you keep thinking, “Hi.” is all you give him, still not looking at him.

“Hi,” he repeats, “it’s really nice to see you, bab-, shit, sorry.”, he winces, covering his mouth with his palm, embarrassment creeping into his features. You let out a quiet laugh, exhaling through your nose. You don’t comment on the slip of endearment that leaves his mouth, you don’t correct him, accepting privately that you liked it, you missed it, you longed for it.

Joel studies your face, but makes no comment on your silence. “You look...” he pauses for a split second before deciding to continue, “you look really good.” He hesitates, he doesn't want his compliment to come across as a feeble attempt to patronize you, because he really means it. You do look good, all sweaty and muddy and human and real. You are real. If he took a few steps forward, he could actually reach out and touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips, smell your heady scent, perhaps discreetly lick the remnants of your sweat from his thumb after carefully removing the strands of hair sticking on your forehead. But he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t do any of that.

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, any answer crossing your mind seems stupid or cheesy or dismissive. How do you respond to a compliment from the man who made you worship in his altar, only to have your faith ripped out of your heart?

His eyes keep roaming over your face, your figure, memorizing everything he can, like a blind man who has finally found his light, while he fidgets with an envelope in his hand which reminds you-

“Did you sign the papers, Joel?”, is what escapes your lips before you can think twice.

“No.” and now it’s his turn to lower his head, his eyes avoiding your gaze, as he looks down at his feet.

“Joel!”, you exclaim infuriated, rolling your eyes at him, knitting your brows together in a sign of frustration.

“No, no, it’s not like that. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want.”, Joel raises a hand in your direction to stop you from what seems to be a fair assumption, his palm up, facing you in an unspoken surrender. “I thought that- me, not signing, was a way of showing you how deeply sorry I am, how much I wanted to fix our marriage, but I understand now,” his voice wavers slightly, “that I need to respect your wishes. It’s the right thing to do. If this is still what you want, I’m gonna sign it.”

You don’t reply to that last part, only pointing out that “You didn’t have to come all this way to tell me that.”

“No, I didn’t.” Joel agrees.

“Then why are you here?” you insist, reluctant to entertain the idea that he has actually come all this way to apologize.

“Because I owe you an explanation.” is his honest and direct answer, sending little jolts of electricity through your nerves.

“Joel..” you sigh in exasperation. Not in warning or frustration, not really, but in something else. A feeling you can’t really put a name to, the closest you can come to describing it is that of a burden, woven deep into your heart, blossoming rapidly with each beat. There are so many things left unsaid; it makes you feel helpless, like you’re drowning. You want the dam you’ve built around your soul over the years to break so everything you've been holding back can finally pour out of you, but there’s just so much of it, of everything, that you’re terrified. Will the overflowing tank of emotions be completely empty? Will there be anything left unsaid? Untouched? What if the remnants left behind keep licking around your wounds, their waves pushing, shaping what’s left of you into something new, unrecognizable?

And what if, the tank will indeed be completely empty? What you’ll be left with, then? Nothing? Just.. empty? Will you remain empty? What, if anything, will take its place? Will you recognize your new self? Will you like yourself? Will you be able to live in harmony with this shell of a person? This you; you know. You hated and pitied and caressed and comforted and forgave and nurtured you into some version of a new you. But this? Everything will be torn apart, the wounds will be freshly opened, accessible to be examined in detail, plucked and bled and bruised in an all-too-familiar way.

Joel’s voice snaps you out of your trance, “No, I do. I owe you more than that, actually, but that’s the least I can do. And I wanna do that while I’m still your husband. I want to explain myself as your husband. Apologize to my wife, as her husband. Then I’m gonna sign anything you want me to.”

“And if I don’t wanna hear what you have to say?”

“Then I’ll just sign the papers and leave you in peace.” Joel confesses in all his honesty.

You just nod, looking down on the ground. You take a deep breath to ground yourself. You can do this. You want to do this. You need to do this.

You walk towards the house and sit down on the steps of the porch, as he looks at you awkwardly, not knowing where to stand. You gesture with a tilt of your head for him to come sit next to you. You can do this. You realize that you didn’t invite him into the house and you feel a bit rude for that, but it's beyond your empathetic capacity to deal with him being here and to let him into the house as well. “I just like it out here, it’s calm and-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, whatever makes you feel comfortable; I know you don’t want me here any longer than I have to be..” he interrupts you as he sits down next to you, his one side pressing against the end of the stairs, where the railing begins. He places the contract between your bodies, on the wooden floor.

It makes you uncomfortable, his statement, you always want people to feel welcome and relaxed around you. You internally chastise yourself for worrying about his feelings instead of yours, but you can’t help it, it’s embedded in your DNA. “It’s OK, Joel, I don’t mind, we can talk.”

Joel nods, but he remains silent. You don’t break the silence, giving him time to collect his thoughts. He chuckles defeated, shaking his head while rubbing his hand over his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you don’t look that mighty to me anymore.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself and you immediately regret it. It didn’t sound so insulting in your head. You only meant to say that he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. Which is sort of a lie and a truth at the same time. You used to find him imposing, even his mere presence had the ability to make your skin crawl, your heart flutter and your words get catch in your dry throat, you were in awe of him. Every time you laid your eyes at him, even when you were straddling his lap or gazing at his profile as he slept beside you, you always felt as if you were looking up. You admired him.

His heart loses several beats to that. He can read between your lines now. He has lost your respect. Your admiration. The time when you looked up to him in awe is long gone.

“You know, my therapist warned me about this.”, he chuckles bitterly.

“Your-” you can’t hide your shocked expression from him as you search his eyes for any sign of him joking around, but you find none. “You’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah, I-, I spent two years hating myself,” he chuckles deprecatingly, “and then I realized it was time for me to stop being an arrogant prick, so I spent another two doing it all over again with the help of my therapist.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that and it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen in his entire life. “OK, somebody’s off to a good start. Go on.”

“You mean about the therapy?”

“I mean about you admitting you are an arrogant prick”, you say playfully.

He really laughs now, his eyes crinkle up at the sides. You used to love that. You feel your heart warming up. “You can thank Maria for that.”

“For what?”

“For kicking my ass and pushing me to help myself.” Joel admits. “She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, she is.” you agree through your laughter, the image of Maria actually kicking Joel’s ass is priceless.

���I missed that sound.” Joel is looking at you softly, as if his gaze could break you.

“Hm.” you simply smile at him, not finding it in you to respond with a snide remark. The time for that feels like it has passed, like it’s irrelevant at this point. All you really want is to have an honest conversation, irony be damned.

You both look at your feet in silent consideration for a minute or two. “I thought you’d be mad at me.” Joel reveals.

You exhale through your nose, the edges of your mouth turning up in a gentle smile. “Four years is a long time to be mad at anyone, Joel. Even you don’t have that kind of power over me.”

“Good. I have enough burden on my shoulders as it is..”, he mumbles and you decide to change the subject.

How do you admit that you are still mad at him but in a different way? How do you describe the deep scar his existence has carved into your soul making it almost unbearable to even exist without him? How do you explain that you’ll always carry him with you, no matter what? How do you instill in him that you still believe in the best version of him, the best version you know he can be, the best version of him you once lived with. Yes, you’re not mad at him for the reasons he thinks you are. You’re mad at him because the way he made you love him is stronger than any hurt he’s ever caused you.

“So, what did your therapist warn you about?”

“She, uh- she tried to prepare me for this.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

“That I should not be prepared.”, he laughs in earnest. “That I should not obsess about what I want to say and just be open and have an honest interaction.”

“I like her, already.” you say with a straight face.

He smiles softly, looking down at his boots, while he rests his elbows on his knees, one palm encircling the other. “Yeah… I had some digging to do; I still do for that matter and will be for a long time it seems.”

“Anything you wanna share?” you reply, raising an eyebrow as if you had no idea why he was here.

“Oh, boy-” he squirms in his seat, already overwhelmed by the turn of the conversation, his chest almost vibrating with anxiety, he can barely swallow, small beads of sweat starting to form around his temples. You reluctantly reach for his forearm, trying to calm him down. “Hey, Joel?”

His whole body stiffens at your touch and he wishes his clothes would evaporate so he could feel your skin against his. He fixes his eyes on your delicate fingers lightly squeezing his tight muscles underneath the fabric. “The worst part has already happened four years ago, so-” you shrug, “just breathe.” Joel keeps his eyes on your hand, his heart rate dropping slightly; you ground him. You retract your arm and keep your hands to yourself in an effort to maintain a respectable distance between you. You shouldn’t have touched him at all.

“I think- I think I understand now.” he begins, still feeling the ghost of your touch on his forearm. “How I made you feel, what your words meant. You always did that, you know. And I found it so fascinating and so exhausting at the same time.”

You look at him, confused. Joel continues, “You always chose your words carefully. You had a reason for every single thing you said. In retrospect, I realized that you were handing me everything on a silver platter, but I was too self-absorbed to see it at the time.”

You nod in agreement, gesturing with your head for him to keep going.

Joel takes a deep breath, holding it inside his lungs for a while. His exhalation is controlled, measured. “Fuck. Okay. It was not just the fact itself. It was not just the cheatin’.”

Your stomach clenches violently at his words. The time has finally come and although you know what happened, you where there, when the words come out of Joel’s mouth it's as if you're pulled back to that threshold all over again. It really happened. You feel your hands sweating. “Go on.”, you pronounce carefully, already anxious your voice is going to betray you. You can do this.

“I don’t want to sound all full of myself-” Joel hesitates.

“You won’t.” you interrupt him with conviction. The truth has never frightened you. You welcome it. It feels like a form of catharsis, it feels like you’re finally being seen. Every nerve in your body is on fire. You’re ready for this, for the truth, if only he gives it to you. Please, set me free.

“I was your everything.” he whispers, almost embarrassed, his eyes not meeting yours. You don’t respond to that, not until he looks at you, although the admission shoots straight through your heart. You stare at the side of his face, almost forcing him to turn to you. He does.

“You were.” Simple. True. Clear as the light of day.

“And I ripped that from you.”

“You did.”

“In the worst possible way.”

“Hmhm.”, you don’t trust the stability of your voice.

“And no matter what I say, I can never take back what I did. I humiliated you, our home, our relationship, everything. I-” his brows furrow in an expression of disgust, “I disrespected myself. I burned everything down. I left nothing for you to hold on to, nothing for me to hope for, nothing.”

His chin trembles and his voice wavers as he continues. “The words to describe how sorry I am have not yet been invented. And even if they had, they still couldn’t take the pain away; what’s done, is done.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the railing. “I don’t know what I wish for anymore. That you had never met me, so you could be spared all this pain? But I can’t. I can’t wish that, because I’m so grateful to have met you. I married you, I had you. That is what has comforted me all these years, what has got me through all those sleepless nights.” He looks absolutely devastated, desperate.

It feels genuine, because he’s not directing it at you, he’s not trying to convince you, he’s not trying at all. “I have not thought about my pain or what I want from all this for a long time. All I pray for is-” his glistening eyes are searching frantically on the ground, his brows knitted together in a painful grimace. You rest your head on the palm of your hand, your elbow on your knee. Watching this moment like an outside observer, you realize that he's trying to live up to your standards, reminding you of a child trying to impress his parents, only to fail regardless of the outcome.

“Look, Joel, couples break up, divorce, all over the world, all the time. And I guess, they all thought their partners were their everything until they finally weren’t.”, you rationalize, putting everything that has happened into some kind of perspective. It is not the end of the world. It is the end of your world. He doesn’t have to carry this burden on his shoulders for eternity. All you need from him is to understand, to acknowledge what he's done to you, how broken you’ve been.

But if he acknowledges that, if he truly comprehends the tremendous pain he’s put you through, won’t all that anguish be transferred to him? Isn't it unbearable for a truly repentant man to know that he has deliberately caused so much pain?

“But, you see; I wanted that, I needed to be your everything.”

“It certainly fed your ego..” you grin at him.

“No, no- I craved that- that look on your face when your eyes were on me, like there was nothing else, no one else around you, but me. You drove me to be better, to move forward; I felt I had a purpose. You were my purpose.”

“Well I didn’t do much of a job then, did I?” you smile defeated.

“No, honey, this-” he’s determined to make you understand that it wasn't your fault, even if it is the last thing he is going to do. He licks his lips trying to formulate his thoughts, “-what happened, had nothing to do with you, I- I was just- I got in my head..”

You shake your head dismissively, “It’s a terrible burden to put people on a pedestal and expect them to-”

“But you see, baby, that’s the thing. You didn’t.”Joel dismisses your comment and if a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over your head you wouldn’t feel so frozen. You search his eyes for meaning, because deep down it stings to hear that you could give more. Is that what he’s saying? You didn’t love him enough? Joel catches on and rushes to explain. “You-” god this is so hard, he’s struggling, can’t he just rip his heart open and let you examine it? “You loved me so much, baby and you never asked for anything in return. You let me be who I was. You accepted me completely. You set me free.” His eyes are blown wide, burning into yours with intensity. You look so lost, how does all this fit in with what he did then?

“Darlin’,” he expands further, “we live in a competitive world. Everyone aims to control each other, from business partners to lovers and spouses; everyone manipulates, everyone tries to tell you where to look, what to do, how to act, how to fuck, how to love. Except for you. You let me be. You put your heart in my hands and you set me free. And I took advantage of that and I am truly sorry. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know. That’s how fucked up I am.” you look at him dumbfounded.

“I can’t connect the dots; I don’t get it, Joel, I’m sorry, I-” you run your fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp in frustration. What does he mean?

Joel winces mid-sentence because he can’t escape what’s coming. This is his last resort. And he knows it is going to sound cruel and he doesn’t even mean the first part the way you're going to perceive it, but for lack of better words, for lack of the better person he could have been, a person who should have never put you in this position in the first place, here goes.

“She made me feel wanted; you made me feel free.”,

he spits out in a hurry, praying to whatever god is listening, that you won’t even catch it, knowing full well that these may be the last words you'll ever let him speak to you.

You are utterly, completely, perfectly shocked.

Then you feel it for the first time in what feels like ages. That old friend consuming you. Rage. It burns your lungs, twists your guts and pierces your heart like a thousand needles. Everything becomes crystal clear. You’re so infuriated, that your mind goes blank. A million words and nothing at all come to your mind simultaneously.

“Let me- let me rephrase that, because actually it was never even about her, I just-” Joel begins, in a vain attempt to stop the tide from crushing you both.

Your palms become clenched fists in front of your mouth, pressing against it, crushing the velvety skin of the inside of your lips against your teeth until you draw blood, in an effort to control yourself. You inhale sharply, keeping your eyes fixed on the land in front of you, blurred by the tears gathering in your waterline.

“She- what?” are the only words you manage to choke out.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter, it was never about her, she was a means to an end and-” your eyes bulge out of your sockets at the statement, “I know- I know how that sounds- just-” his palms come together in a prayerful gesture, begging you to give him a chance to explain.

“A means to an- what the fuck are you talking about, Joel?” the veins on your forehead swell under your skin, creating a map of the river of wrath flowing aggressively through your body.

“It was never an affair sweetheart, but a transaction; one I initiated. She was only a boost to my ego.”

..she made me feel wanted..

..a boost to my ego..

It's all starting to make sense now, and it's the last thing you expect to be confronted with. You've always imagined either a heated affair, a secret love story, him realizing he had found his soul mate in someone else, or him getting bored with you, finding you too much or too emotional or too unlovable. It turns out that you were accused of the one thing you never were.

“Are you-, oh god,” you can hear your heart pounding in your ears now and it takes every ounce of strength not to vomit, “are you saying that you fucked someone else; you fucked your secretary for fuck’s sake, you fuckin’ cliché of a man, because I wasn’t jealous of you?”. Your throat is so swollen, you try to scream your words at him but they only come out in wrenched whispers.

You stand up abruptly, dizziness causing you to close your eyes tightly as you see a million white dots behind the blackness of your eyelids. Your whole body vibrates with rage. You steady yourself on the railing and then begin to pace back and forth, your hands unable to stay motionless, but moving over your face, through your hair, lowering and squeezing the sides of your waist as you lean slightly forward in a subconscious way to soothe yourself.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you laugh hysterically now, as angry tears run down your cheeks, as if you've been let in on an inside joke. “It’s my fault, everything is my fault-”

Joel is frozen in place, he’s not sure if he should get up and try to reason with you or stay where he is.. or run for the hills. He’s witnessing the unleashing of a caged animal. His tongue feels heavy and numb in the cavern of his mouth but he dares to speak again, “That’s the exact opposite of what I said, sweetheart,” he tries to explain in vain, “I’m sorry if that’s what I-” but you’re not listening to a single word he utters.

“People kept telling me, urging me on, all my life;” and you slap your palms on the sides of your thighs, looking at his direction, but not really looking, “I should be more controlling, more pushy, more..” your voice begins to fade, muttering to yourself through your teeth. “They warned me, you know, that the lack of pressure in any kind of relationship would be perceived as a lack of interest.”

Don't trust completely; hold something back; men like the illusion of power; show them you need them; make them jealous; be jealous, like a manual to a pre-installed setting.

Do you agree to the Terms & Conditions?

Press ‘Enter.’

“But I didn’t listen. I never listened. Because in what world do we choose a leash over freedom?” You turn to look at him now, addressing him as if you were talking to a third party, an outsider, asking for advise or affirmation.

Maria’s words come back to Joel’s mind, words that he had long forgotten about, finally fitting like missing pieces of a puzzle to the bigger picture.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”

“I was really stupid, was I not? What on earth made me think that this time would be any different, what made me think that you’d be any different? You’re just- you’re just another man-” you spit your vile angrily as your eyes sweep over him. The look in his eyes is devastated, he feels shuttered, reduced to nothing.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl. When the fuck will I learn? When the fuck am I going to accept that I don't really belong? When?”

Joel is staring at you bewildered, he never felt more helpless in his life. A thousand new thoughts and questions form in your head, things you didn’t even begin to imagine would cross your mind.

“Did you use her?” you ask with renewed vigor, a surge of energy running through your body.

Joel’s cheeks burn with humiliation but he has already admitted it once, what will it do to him to say it one more time? “Yes, I never had any feelings f-”

“No,” you interrupt impatiently, you don't care about his feelings right fuckin' now, “that night, did you use her? On purpose?”

Joel looks lost for a second but the cogs in his head finally turn and “NO! No baby, I wasn’t even aware of you coming home earlier than expected, no. Don’t even entertain this idea; it wasn’t intentional, I swear to god.”

Oh. There’s a new question for Joel. Why did you leave your business trip early? He had never thought about it before, solely focused on everything else that had happened, which now made him wonder, “Did you- did you know?”

“What?” you frown, lost in your own thoughts, not following his line of logic.

“Did you know? Is that why you came back early from your trip?”

You’re still a bit too far gone in your head to think clearly and try to prevent the next question from coming, “Of course I didn’t know, Joel, did it look like I did?” is all you say with a bite, annoyed.

“Then why-” Joel insists, pressuring you for an answer, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“I- fuck- I need a minute.” you declare and start to walk towards the house.

Joel waited on that porch for almost an hour, watching the sun set behind the mountain, afraid to move, barely breathing in case you stormed out and threw him back where he came from as if him standing still would somehow make him part of the landscape; as if he belonged.

And you certainly delivered.

He hears the screen door open, his back still to the house. You are standing behind him, your arms crossed stiffly over your chest, your face tilted down, to avoid his gaze. He could see the red-rimmed and swollen eyes of yours, despite your efforts to hide them.

“I can’t do this-”

“Please,” his whole face contorts in agony, “please, hear me-” you both speak at the same time.

“-tonight.”

“What?” his voice matching the look of confusion on his face.

“Maybe another time, but not tonight.”

“I-” he doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts without sounding like an idiot. He drove all this way, four hours straight, to finally get things straight. His brain has short-circuited, unable to put a plan into action. Should he check into a hotel or a motel or whatever the fuck is around here in the middle of nowhere? Should he go back to his place? Do you really want to talk again? You sort of said you did. You said maybe. Fuck. What does he do?

But honestly, what did he expect? That this would be over in the course of one evening? Of course he would have to come back. His eyes are fixed on yours like a deer caught in the headlights. “I came all this way-” he mumbles, choking on the last part, already regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

“Well, too bad.” you spit emotionless as you turn and head for the safety of your house, leaving him stunned on the goddamn porch.

Joel returned the next evening, but you weren't there. He made the four hour journey and came back empty-handed. And you weren't there the next evening, or the evening after that. But he kept on driving the miles, hot wheels under the Texas sun. He didn’t check in anywhere near your small town. He went back home and then back to you again.

The last time he found nothing but a closed door, he finally got the message, so the next time he left the house, before he turned on the ignition, he texted you, as a sign of respect for your boundaries.

Is it all right if I come and see you?

Backspacebackspacebackspace

Is it OK if I come and talk?

And the answer was

Not today.

So, every day he texted you. He didn’t mean to be intrusive, he just wanted to remind you that you were never far from his thoughts, that he was always ready and eager to finish what he started.

You denied him for quite some time. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him again. The confessions he made have knocked you off your axis. Just when you finally felt like everything was falling into place, he dropped this bombshell, making you rethink everything you thought you knew and had sorted out in your mind. You just couldn’t wrap your head around what you’d heard coming out of his mouth. How could he think like that? Why couldn’t he just talk to you? You used to talk about everything; what the fuck happened? How did you not see that coming?

You were sure that he would give up, that he would stop bothering to contact you at all. Was it the monster of self-deprecation? Was it a deep disappointment in human beings and their general lack of persistence in trying to nurture and repair a relationship, or at least trying to give it a proper closure? You didn’t give it much thought afraid of the answer you might get. But you kept saying Not today, until one day, for some reason-

Can we talk?

Yes.

Joel’s heart is beating through his chest so rapidly, he has to cough to regain some of his composure. He almost drops his phone, trying to confirm the most convenient time for you before you change your mind.

That was the first Yes after the day you saw him again. You weren’t sure what you wanted to talk about; if you could pick up exactly where you left off. You weren’t even sure you could look him in the eye again, but you had to see this through.

When you hear the sound of his engine and tires on the dirt road, you take a deep breath and walk out of the house to wait for him on the porch.

“Come on in, I’m cooking dinner.” you announce as you open the screen door for him to enter the house.

“Are you sure?”, Joel is taken aback, he thought the inside of your house was strictly off-limits to him. You were also cooking dinner as if he was an old friend visiting you. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should lower his defenses or not but with the way you looked tonight you didn’t give him much of a choice.

You’re wearing a pair of warm cream jeans, paired with a white front tie shirt, the first few buttons left open, giving him a glimpse of your tanned sternum. It almost looks like a man’s shirt, just messily tied up over your soft skin, revealing bits of your stomach. Could it be another man’s shirt?

You are barefoot. The nails of your toes are painted in a fresh glossy black color. Your hair is casually tied up in a messy bun, loose strands falling around your beaming face. Joel has to restrain himself from pushing you against the wall and fucking you on the spot, by clenching and unclenching his fists. His mouth is salivating at the sight of you, excitement building in his groin. It's been so long since he's felt this way, a different kind of hunger is growing in him at a rapid pace, as if something buried deep inside his masculinity has just awakened from hibernation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you quirk back at him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, what you’re both doing. “I’m starving. Coming?” you leave him at the entrance and go back into the house.

“You have a beautiful home.”, Joel admits as he takes in his surroundings, thinking that this is going better than he expected. He also can't help but prepare himself for the fact that this might not end the same way.

“Thank you.” you laugh nervously.

“What?”, he catches the note of disbelief in your voice. “I'm serious, the light is just right, it’s open and warm; it actually reminds me of you.” he says matter-of-factly.

“No, no, I know you mean it, it’s just- I guess it’s high praise, coming from you.” you admit. You always admired what he did for a living and how good he was at it and him seeing your place for the first time gave you another reason to feel kind of nervous.

“Oh, come on, none of that now.” he dismisses the compliment, his voice wavering slightly at the praise.

“Well it’s true, you are excellent at what you do, I mean, the house you built is a work of art and that’s a fact.”

“Which one?”, although he knows exactly which one, he presses on.

“The one we used to live in, together.” You can’t call it your house. You cannot. The mere thought of it makes your tongue feel like it’s on fire.

“Oh.”, Joel smiles as he presses his lips together in a thin line, “You mean our house. It was built out of love, that's why. It's the one I'm most proud of.”

“Hm.”, is all you give him. Déjà vu brings back memories out of the closet -pun intended- for both of you.

“Ok, now you really have to tell me. What is it?”, Joel crosses his forearms over his chest. He has to know.

“What do you mean?”, you try to buy some more time, cause you’re not so sure you want to go in there.

“You had the exact same reaction when I mentioned that, four years ago.”

“Ah, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“It’s just- it always felt like it reflected your personality rather than mine. Or at least ours.”

Joel looks at you perplexed.

“I’m not complaining, I mean, how many people can claim that their husband built them a house the size of a small hotel as a wedding present?” you chuckle while you continue as nonchalantly as you can muster, “I would have lived in a cave with you, Joel, you didn’t have to go to these lengths to house two people. If you want my honest opinion, this was an ego project. I let it slide because it made you happy. And I liked you happy.” Joel looks stunned, his eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“Baby, I- I wanted to make you happy, to give you the best I could-”

“Joel, I’m not judging you. I am not. But you didn’t show me a single blueprint while you were designing the damn thing. You didn’t ask me what I wanted or how I imagined it. Sure, you equipped it with all the best stuff money could buy, but you never asked me what I thought about it. Not really.”, you see the hurt in his eyes and it unsettles you, but now the rabbit is out of the hat. “Again, I’m not judging you and I’m not being ungrateful, all I’m saying is that for some reason you needed your shinny new wife to live in a shinny new castle. It was a prestige thing. Just think about it.”

“Jesus..” Joel mutters, pinching the sides of his forehead with one hand, feeling defeated.

“Hey,” you give him a wry look, “I tried to avoid answering that question for four years. You were the one who insisted.” you defend yourself, clearly amused by his reaction.

“What else do I need to know?”, Joel wonders in a desperate manner.

“Well.. for how long can you keep coming back?” you joke absentmindedly.

“For the rest of my life..” Joel answers a little too quickly, not a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Your heart tightens at his eagerness, forcing you to admit a consideration that you have had more than a few times before. “You know,” you look over at him, lost in thought, almost like reminiscing, “sometimes I wish I had met you before your company took off.” You snap out of your daydream and consciously look at him and he looks pained as if some kind of realization has hit him. You change the subject for the sake of both of you. “Anyway, speaking of which, how is work? I heard you closed that deal, after all.” you grin mischievously.

“Yeah, I did.”, his voice takes on a strange timbre, almost like regret. But you’re not so sure about anything these days, so you let it pass. He puts the envelope with the contract on the counter in the kitchen and sits down in the chair next to the table already set for dinner.

“Good, that’s good. Let me guess, you’re all over it? First in, last out? Is it almost done?” you word vomit to cover your nervousness.

“Uh,” Joel rubs the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t know.” is all he gives you, clearly trying to avoid getting involved in the discussion.

“Um, you don’t know?”, you laugh lightly in confusion. “How is that possible?”, you ask stirring the vegetables in the pan.

“I’m not involved in the project and I have no idea about the status of the construction;” Joel answers your question and continues, revealing, “I quit. Sold my shares and got out.”

“Yeah,” you draw the vowels, still not looking in his direction, “right. Big, mighty Joel Miller left his enterprise-” you laugh mockingly, but you are met with silence. “You’re joking, right?” You turn to look at him, not believing what you have just heard. You feel your blood freeze in your veins.

Joel shakes his head in denial, “I’ve actually left the city and the only reason I haven’t sold every asset in my name is in case you want to claim any of them. They’re all yours if you want ‘em.” Your mouth is slightly agape, as you try to process what has just been delivered to you.

You open your mouth to protest but he beats you to it, by raising his hand to stop you. “I know you don’t want anything from me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want them either. Not without you. Just take them. Burn them for all I care, liquidate them and use the money as you see fit.”, Joel insists, trying to find ways to convince you.

“You can do that yourself, Joel.” is all you say; you don’t give a damn about his money. Joel nods and leaves it at that, he knows better than to talk about money right now.

You’re curious where he lives now, but you’re not sure it’s appropriate to ask, so you don’t. You prepare dinner and make small talk about simple things like your lives over the past four years. Joel asks you about the ranch, the horses, the chores; you ask him about Tommy and Maria, their newborn son, whom you haven't had a chance to meet yet. None of you dare to break the bubble of normality in which you have effortlessly found yourselves.

It feels like coming home after a long day, the way you both fall into a comfortable silence. Joel speaks your name softly, drawing your attention and your gaze back to him. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re eating?” Just a little longer, let me have it just a little longer.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “no, I mean, what are we doing?” he gestures with his fingers between him and you.

You look at him and then at your plate, playing around with your food, lost in thought. How do you acknowledge that? How do you confess that you’re trying to stretch time? How do you admit that you’re scared out of your mind of how it's all going to end? How do you even come to terms with the fact that you’re not sure you want any of this to end? How do you accept how natural it feels to have him back in your life? How do you admit that after four years the pain has never stopped, but the force, the roughness of it has changed into something softer, yet persistent; never quite going away, lingering.

How do you admit that all the good memories are emerging, because that’s what the mind does, that’s how it protects you, that’s how it helps you survive another day, that’s how it tricks you into falling back into a comfortable routine with him. Even if what binds you together now is his betrayal. How do you admit that you’re afraid of what will become of you once you've finished confessing your truths?

Will he cease to exist for you? Will you cease to exist for him? Will he ever bother to contact you again? Do you really want him to? Will you matter to him or will he move on, start again and shake off the last vestiges of your life together?

Or maybe- maybe he has moved on with his life and that's why he's doing all this, putting all this effort into it. Maybe he is preparing a new, clear path for himself and whoever is in his life right now. Is it her? Is it still, her?

You’re spiraling, lost in your thoughts, biting your lower lip anxiously, like a snake eating its own tail. “Baby?” his baritone voice snaps you out of it, he must have called you several times before you heard him, suddenly aware of hot, fat tears streaming down your face, his thumbs gently brushing them from your cheeks.

You let out a shuddering breath; it’s the first time he’s touched you, in so, so long. And here he is again. The familiar, old friend. He’s pounding on your door now, relentless as he is, screaming for you to let him in, lead the way, take charge, take care of you. You can almost feel his maniacal banging, vibrating through your chest, let me in, let me in, let me in.

Let me in, better angry than scared.

Better angry than scared.

Your shoulders slump, your head feels unbearably heavy. The world has stopped moving. The world is moving too fast. You savor his features as he leans further in, his intoxicating scent filling your nostrils, his eyes pleading, the brown of his irises inviting you to let him in. Joel’s face is that of a man still in love as he continues to caress your skin and you let him.

You let him, because you are a weak person.

You let him because you have been deprived of his touch, of any touch really, for far too long.

You let him because you want to have something for yourself, selfishly.

You let him, because for once you just want to take. Take, take, take.

You let him because you just want to be held and touched and loved.

And even though your mind knows that you shouldn’t want all that from him, your heart allows you that little moment.

“Joel, I’m tired.” you begin, your voice breaking as fresh tears run down your face and onto his thumbs. “Tired to my bones. All I want is to be honest with each other. Do you think we can do that? Can we talk like two adults with nothing left to lose? Can we just be truthful to each other? I know there’s too much history between us, too much hurt and resentment but we both have to try and put it all behind us. I can’t go on like this.”

There’s a stillness in him, realization and clarity dawning on him. He thinks he understands now and it shocks him somehow, as a fact, that there are still things to uncover, to revel in, to acknowledge. Every time he thinks he’s reached the end of this journey, a new sun rises over the horizon.

You don’t need the specifics of his action, at least not right now, or not anymore. What you need is closure. True, honest closure. And that can only come from him baring himself to you. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. We can do anything you want, baby.”, he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing where to begin, but resisting the thought. He leans back in his seat, dropping his hands from your face as he lets out the breath he seems to be holding in and begins.

“Remember that night before your business trip when you came to my office?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess.”, what a strange thing to mention, you think confused. “What about it?”

“You came to me for sex.”, Joel says bluntly, no need to beat around the bush. This is it. This is how he loses you. Once again.

You stare at him and then, for some reason, look down in embarrassment. You’ve fucked him in almost every way you can think of and now the very admission of that fact makes you feel like an exposed nerve. It dawns on you, how far away this era has slipped away. You feel vulnerable as if you’re talking to a total stranger about your most intimate moments. At the same time, you still know exactly how to touch him, how to please him and a light warmth begins to shimmer inside you.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it, but- yeah..”, you admit, still nervously picking at your food with your fork.

Joel sees your apprehension but he presses on. This is what you asked for. “And I refused you.” The look on your face betrays your confusion. Where is he going with this? Only now, he sees more. He can finally see more. The hurt. The disappointment. “What happened next?” is his next question and does he really think that you can remember all these years later? Does he honestly believe that you can recall yourself leaving his office defeated and crying yourself to sleep? “I don’t remember.” you lie, shrugging your shoulders as convincingly as you can muster.

“You said you loved me and then you left.”, Joel reminds you.

“You- you remember all that?”, your eyes are wide and the look on your face vulnerable, Joel wants to pause it all and hold you in his arms.

“I can’t seem to forget anything about you,” he reveals, “believe me, I’ve tried.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh.. why did I do what?”, you narrow your eyes in confusion.

His eyes are piercing yours, provoking you to figure it out on your own.

“Loved you?” He shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

Your eyes widen again, in surprise this time, as you finally see what he means.

“Walked away?” You’re fucking shocked to the core, your voice choked, you’re not sure you spoke out loud.

“Why didn’t you insist?”

Your mouth is wide open, you’re speechless, you flatter your eyelids in search of the right words. This is your second encounter and once again he says what you least expect him to say.

“You refused” you remind him now, “and I respected that.”, your hand moves to rest on your chest, palm open, to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“You know how that sounds, don’t you?”, you mock with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, please,” Joel is quick to respond, his brows knitted in a dismissive frown, “like you could ever force yourself on me.”

You genuinely are at a loss for words, your gaze unable to stay in one place, your mind running a million miles an hour.

Apparently you both are, because Joel is no better at explaining how he feels. “I wanted you to-”, he stops, his eyes still searching yours for the right words, pleading with you to feel him.

Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

It dawns on you. All at once. You see it all playing out. You know exactly how this conversation is going to go. “-claim you? You wanted me to claim you?”, your voice rises, as does your tone. You feel the presence of your abandoned friend again. You don’t want him here. But he creeps in through your veins, nonetheless. He is not giving up. If the pounding doesn’t work then he’ll poison you, slowly and persistently.

“From who? You were supposed to be mine!”, you exclaim exasperated, immediately correcting yourself “-not that I owned you, you know what-”

“That! That’s what I’m talking about!” Joel points his finger at you, “That’s what I needed. To be yours!”

“But you were! Are we really haggling over semantics? Of course you were mine! I just never wanted you to feel suffocated by me. You were not my possession Joel, you were my partner!”

“I swear to you, I would die a happy man, baby.”

“I- I tried so hard to control myself-” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back to your head as you shake it in denial, “-all that hunger inside of me, eating me up-”

“What?” is Joel’s turn to look like a lost puppy. What the fuck is going on here?

“You,” you point a finger at him, “you were my first and last thought every passing day, it wasn’t even healthy anymore, Joel. But- I saw that look in your eyes sometimes, a hunger, one I thought mirrored mine and then it was gone in the blink of an eye and I thought that something was holding you back; I- I was holding you back. I thought- maybe I was undeserving..” you divert your eyes from him, embarrassed at your feeling of inadequacy, “So, I accepted what you gave me if it meant I could have any part of you.”

“Oh, baby..” Joel’s hiding his face in his palms and his heart breaks as he realizes where you both stand. How did the two of you get to this point? How could his judgment be so clouded, how could he be so blind to what was happening under his own roof? How could he be so arrogant as to seek validation, one he didn't even need, from someone else? Someone whose validation he didn't even care about. It didn't matter to him. She didn’t matter to him. How could he not sense the insecurity tantalizing your very core to the point of feeling inadequate? If only you had told him sooner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you mirror his thoughts with your voice.

“What should I say to you? I couldn’t put it into words, even now I'm not sure I can. It was an all-consuming feeling, an absolute necessity, an overwhelming need that was impossible to handle. I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with it. I loved you with such force that it became an obsession. I couldn’t even entertain the idea that you might not want me back in the same way. I felt helpless, vulnerable. How could I come to terms with this? With the realization that I had fucked someone else just to get a rise out of you or to prove to myself that I didn't need you that much after all?”

Joel’s palms are clenched into fists on his thighs, trying to keep himself from pressing his lips against yours. Feelings and desires that had been buried in his subconscious for too long came back as he tried to make you understand.

“A r- so, you did fuck her on our bed on purpose.”

“You asked me that before, darlin’, I promise you I did not.”

“Then how would you provoke me if you didn’t mean for me to find out?” you look at him incredulously.

“I-” Joel winces, “it wasn’t a conscious thought, I just kept fantasizing about you finding out and burning the house down for me and that single image made me so h-” Joel shuts his mouth abruptly, not the best idea to describe to you how fuckin’ hard he got, fantasizing about you while fucking someone else. You, bursting into the bedroom all raging and furious, turning the whole place upside down reclaiming what was rightfully yours.

Him.

What a sick fuck he was. “I swear to you, no. I’m not that fucked up. It was a gigantic lack of judgment, I was fuckin’ drunk, my mind was a mess at that point. That whole week was-” he’s biting his tongue hard to stop himself while rubbing his forehead with his fingers, “I was just being an idiot.”

“The week I was gone?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, ‘snothing.” and he doesn’t elaborate. “Just a bad fuckin’ week.”

The atmosphere suddenly feels suffocating, as if all the words that have spilled out of both your mouths are hovering over your heads like a black cloud. You need some air to clear your mind, so you make your way out of the kitchen without looking back and walk slowly to the porch, sitting on the steps at the bottom of the stairs. You know he will follow. Your bare feet touch the soft soil beneath you and you try to ground yourself through the little patch of earth you call your own. It doesn’t quite work. There’s a beautiful golden glow, a last gift from the parting sun, warming your soul. Everything is going to be all right.

“Strange fantasies we both had.” you say as Joel seats down next to you, the contract once again a barrier between you. “You kept fantasizing about me finding out about your affair-”.

“It wasn’t an affair-” Joel corrects you. “Fine, fine. You imagined that, while I kept fantasizing me holding you so tightly while we fucked that our flesh became one; that’s how deep I needed you inside me, that’s how obsessively I wanted to carry you with me all the time, isn’t that totally fucked up?” you laugh dejectedly.

“I guess we are the same kind of fucked up. If only we could admit it to each other..”

“Did you really feel that I didn’t love you enough?” you whisper, almost too scared to be heard and to get an answer.

“I think we loved each other too much. I think we were both too afraid of losing each other. I think,” Joel pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts and calm his voice, “in our efforts to keep each other we did the exact opposite. More me than you, for sure. I have handled things badly and badly is an understatement.”

“You were always so patient with me. You’d always wait for me to come to you, to take my time. I needed the savage in you, or I thought I did at the time. That desperate thing I felt creeping out of you in stolen glances or bitten lips between your teeth, or when we fucked; no one has ever fucked me like you did. I did see all of you then, you know. And I think you saw all of me. If I made you feel confident or safe enough, you would have talked to me. And if I wasn’t so self-absorbed I would have asked.”

You never thought you’d hear these words from Joel, but all this time of self-reflection has changed him in a way that reminds you of the Joel you fell in love with. The one you could see behind all those layers of self-protection, the one you’d always hoped would emerge for you. And then he goes on, and you wish you knew what was coming so you could protect your heart from being torn to shreds.

“Maybe-” he closes his eyes looking pained, “maybe I was a narcissist. Maybe you gave me all you had and I kept wanting more, maybe I needed every part of you for myself. Maybe I needed you on your knees, on a leash, at my mercy, just to have the illusion of the certainty that you would never leave me. Maybe freedom is for those who can bear it, after all. Hell, maybe I was the one who needed the leash in the end. Maybe you gave me too much credit, my love, when you deemed me worthy of freedom.”

His words are earth-shuttering, obliterating, final. There’s nothing left to be said, at least nothing of substance. Final. The fucking word plays over and over in your head. Final. This is final. You could swear that you have felt every possible kind of pain during these four long years but new depths of agony are being discovered right now. The acid in your stomach makes your throat constrict. You feel petrified.

Joel can sense your distress, his words have been of no comfort to you. Your skin looks pale, covered with a thin layer of cold sweat; you look physically ill. Your forearms rest on your knees and he gently cups your elbow to check in on you. Are you OK? You smile weakly at him, the expression not reaching the corners of your eyes.

“You know I would give anything to take it all back, right?”

Your laughter is more lively now, not with malice or sarcasm, but with a sense of humor.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I do.”, you shake your head in twisted amusement, tilting your head up, to let the last rays of the sun warm your face, maybe bring back some of your lost color. It's getting dark now, the day is coming to an end, the curtains of the last sunlight are almost closed. Your eyes are closed too, your head still tilted back as you laugh to yourself, “You did that backwards, too, you know.”

“What?”

“You have burned everything to the ground, only to realize that you want to get it all back in one piece. I mean it’s- it’s-” you struggle to find the right words but Joel offers one of his own.

“Ridiculous..”

“I was gonna say pointless.. But that’s the thing, Joel. Choosing to be with someone is like faith. You believe because you just know. You don't have to find evidence to prove your choice at every turn, otherwise it’s just exhausting. You choose to trust yourself.”

“Trust me as your partner, you mean, not yourself.”

“Joel, it was never about trusting you..”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand..”

“I’m not sure how to explain it- uh..”, you raise your shoulders and your brows in unison as you shake your head slightly, searching for the words. “Trust is a personal journey. ‘Trust’ doesn't mean ‘trust in you’, I’m not trusting you. No one can be sure of anyone. ‘Trust’ means that I have faith in myself, that even if you hurt me, even if you abandon me, I will not fall apart. And..” you shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself with your hands, “look at me, Joel..”, you finish, suggesting that you’re still here, still standing.

“I am, baby; I am..” Joel replies, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last time he’ll ever have the chance to, utterly compelled by your inner glow.

“I’m not mad at you Joel, not anymore. And I believe you, I really do. But I can’t get that scene out of my head. I just can’t. I can still hear the sounds, I can even recall the way you smelled when you were standing next to me.”

His hands are shaking.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, really.”

“I know.”, his voice is barely audible.

“I think you’ve done enough of that yourself. Maybe it’s time to forgive yourself?”

“Do you?” Do you, really? Do you forgive him after all that has been said? Do all these confessions illuminate the facts from a different perspective? Does it change what he did and what you went through? And if so, does that mean you're letting him go? Are you leaving him behind? Is he leaving you behind? Why is it so hard to let go? Why do you choose the safety of the known, even when it hurts you?

You choose not to answer and instead firmly insist, “You have to forgive yourself, Joel, it’s okay.” Be the better person. If not for him, then for yourself. Let him go.

“I can’t do that.”, Joel is adamant, shaking his head while he rejects your request.

“Yes, you can.” you urge him again. “As I can and do.” Let him go.

Joel never thought he would listen to those words coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t deserve them. He hasn’t earned them. “You forgive me?”, he repeats in utter shock and disbelief.

“Yes.” Loud and clear as daylight.

“I- You can’t- I don’t- I don’t deserve that.” Joel feels like he’s drowning in your so graciously offered Holy Grail, desperately trying to keep his head above the waters of your absolution.

“I can’t be the judge of that, Joel, hell, I can’t be the judge of anyone. The way I see it, you chose your actions and I chose mine. You chose to hurt me and I chose to walk away. We both lost something. Have we not suffered enough, Joel?” you ask him honestly.

“I don’t want to presume, but- isn’t it a great burden to carry on your shoulders when you try to move on? All this anger, all that bitterness?” you search his eyes for an answer but he doesn’t give you one.

You continue, hoping to get through to him. “Your feelings are your burden Joel and it doesn’t matter if I forgive you. That’s why it is you who needs to forgive yourself.”

His eyes still refuse to meet yours, stubbornly glued to the ground. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for me. We need to move forward, both of us.” is the last thing you say to him, not knowing if he even listened to half of what you just said.

You both fall into a thoughtful silence, but something you said is bugging him. He can’t quite figure it out, so he turns to look at you, to savor you while he still has the chance. He knows that his time is limited.

You’re just sitting there with him, trying to comfort him, you of all people. You seem lighter now, fidgeting absentmindedly with your fingers as if some of your burden has already been lifted. And as his gaze sweeps over you, he sees it again. He sees the white shirt hugging your body and he knows what’s troubling him.

I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume.

His heart beats rapidly in his chest, panic rising inside him.

“I’ve been with you for the last four years.”

“Excuse me?” your hands freeze as you turn to face him, clearly confused.

“You said you didn’t want to presume anything and I need to set the record straight. There was and is no other woman in my life except you.”

“Joel,” you blush shyly, “this is none of my business, you are free-”

“No. No. I need you to know this, it’s important to me. I meant everything I said. You have done nothing wrong. My feelings for you have never changed-”

“Joel, please..” you beg him to stop, you can’t have this conversation now, it’s too soon. No, you’re wrong. It’s too late; too soon means there’s a future ahead of you. A future where you both fit in the same universe.

“I don’t want you to think that I came all the way out here just to tie up some loose ends and move on. That is not what this is about.”

“If you expect me to tell you about my personal life..” your what now?

“No, I don’t. And I don’t think I could handle it, anyway. You are a free woman and you deserve the world. Unlike me; I don’t deserve anything and I’ll never be free of you.”

Your chin is now trembling and you bite your lower lip to stop the involuntary muscle contraction. You can’t decipher if it’s from anger for the way things came to be or from deep, excruciating sadness for how Joel feels. For how he makes you feel.

“Free woman, huh?”, you whisper bitterly, looking down at your feet, willing yourself not to cry.

“Yes, free, as you should always have been and I’m sorry I couldn’t see it sooner.”

Joel then picks up the divorce papers from the floor next to him as he’s fishing a pen out of his pocket. He stares at you and then at the blank space where his signature should be, next to yours. He splays his palm over the last page as if to straighten it out, but it almost looks like he’s caressing it. He brings the ball of the pen to the white surface and for a moment his hand lingers over it. He doesn’t dare look at you again, his resolve is not that strong. Finally, finally he signs, filling the empty spot and he hands you the contract. It’s a strange moment, the one before the signature and the one after it.

Everything seems to be the same; it is just a signature.

Everything feels completely different; it is not just a signature.

Your fingertips brush his as you reach out to take it, the touch sending shivers down your spine. Your slightly trembling hands hold the papers gently, not sure you wanna hold on to them or scatter them on the ground. Your thumb swipes softly over his signature.

You feel it, now. You feel the ground beneath your bare feet, the warmth of the earth, the weight of your footing. The falling has stopped. The feather finally rests. You have landed.

Joel moves to stand on his feet, as you keep staring at the drying ink, when you feel something fall from above onto your thumb; but you can’t see anything as it is immediately absorbed by the hungry pores of the paper, slightly smudging his signature. You look up to catch him as he dries his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Free as a bird, baby, ready to fly over the world.”, Joel smiles at you with a look of reverence and devotion in his eyes.

You picture the floating feather in your head and smile back at him with a serenity he hasn’t seen in a long time.

“I think I just want to walk for a while. One step at a time.”

He nods, his eyes still full of emotion and you watch as he begins to walk slowly towards his truck, when suddenly he turns his body to face you but continues to walk backward in the same direction.

“Hey!” he calls to you with a mischievous smile, raising his chin to you.

“Yeah?” you answer, your voice wavering slightly as you try to hide your smile.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?” he asks as he reaches for his driver’s door and opens it, waiting for your answer, which never comes because you think he’s joking. But he continues to stare at you, with no expectations, quietly, earnestly, sincerely, with a soft, shy smile on his lips. Oh.

Oh.

“Joel..” is all you breathe out, closing your eyes for a moment before you look at him again, because his name is all that is left in your very being right now. Joel.

He seems lighter, too.

“Maybe, one day..?”

“Yeah.. Maybe, one day..”

previous |

Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre @leggtostandon @sarahhxx03

@zliteraturehoe @msmorningstaarr @gossipgirl-03 @vabeachazn @joeldjarin

@sofiparallel

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Teaching Him A Lesson (Lucifer x Reader) (Cucked Alastor x reader)

CW: Drunk sex, Dub con due to drinking, cream pie, breakup rebound sex, noncon cucking, fem receiving oral, bondage for Alastor Rated: Adult Summary: After being dumped by Alastor, you soothe your heart at the hotel bar. Lucifer is more than willing to listen to your sorrows and even indulge you when you take Angel Dust's advice of fucking your way over Alastor. Unfortunately, when Alastor sees you slip into your room with someone else, he regrets his choice and Lucifer decides to teach him a lesson.

AN: We finished it! It's a week and a half late but we fuckin finished it!! Thank you everyone who's cheered me on as I've explored characters, pairings, kinks and situations I would otherwise never have written and stay tuned for what @redvexillum and I have planned for December!

Lucifer prided himself on being the bigger man, even when he wasn’t. He was weak to temptation, in reality, though he wasn’t fond of admitting it. That’s how he became the king of Hell, banished from his heavenly home for daring to think he knew better than his divine father. 

It was that same weakness to temptation that had him following you through the halls, hand tucked into his after spending a few hours and too many drinks listening to your sorrows at the hotel bar. Your hair moved with your eager pace, tear-stained face smiling back at him as you pulled him along. 

This wasn’t right. Lucifer knew that, but he had always had a soft spot for you and oh, you were so eager. 

Your heart lay shattered in your chest. What did you expect, falling for the Radio Demon? The two of you had given it a good run, all things considered. That was more than most people could ever dare to hope to get with him. For a short year, you had stood by his side and, oh, how you had loved it. 

You thought he loved you. 

That’s why it had come as such a surprise when he had sat you down and told you he was done, that it was over this morning. You were a distraction. The benefits you brought to his life weren’t worth the weakness you created. He didn’t want you anymore. 

Cast aside. 

It hurt and you begged. It did no good, though. 

Angel Dust was sure what you needed to move on was a good fuck. Maybe he was right? Probably not, it had only been a few hours, but the more drinks you had, the better of an idea it sounded. 

Who better than the King of Hell to fuck away the memory of Alastor’s touch? Lucifer had been so kind too, listening to you ramble and cry. He didn’t get on well with your ex, but that didn’t seem to impact his kindness at all. 

“This is my old room,” you said, stopping in front of a door you hadn’t opened in six months. 

“Are you going to open it?” Lucifer asked, hand still held in yours. “If you’ve changed your mind, that’s-” 

“Are you going to kiss me?” You asked, reaching behind you and turning the knob, letting the door click open. 

Red eyes shrouded in shadows watched from the end of the hall as Lucifer enveloped you in his arms. Anger rolled through the static that surrounded him as he watched your body melt in the King’s, lips moving against his. 

Until this morning, you had allowed Alastor to hold you like that. Until this morning, you allowed Alastor to slip his tongue between your parted lips, drinking up the sweet sounds of your pleasure.

Alastor had been at peace with his decision when you ran from your shared bedroom this morning. He had been at peace with it as he watched you drink your sorrows away. There was hardly more than a twinge of jealousy as you sat with Lucifer at the bar. 

But now, as Lucifer walked you into what had been your bedroom. 

Warm lips moved against yours, soft and longing as Lucifer’s kiss stole your breath away. Your mind swam, wrapped up in the idea of him and floating on a sea of apple-flavored drinks. 

His arms wrapped around you as he walked you into the room you had thought you would never be in again. His body was hard against yours as he struggled between wanting to hold you and let his coat fall down to the ground, urged off his shoulders by your hands. 

Nimble fingers worked at the buttons of his vest, working it open one button at a time as he kissed your neck. Soft sweet words were whispered, unclear and unable to be made out as they mixed into one soft sound spoken against your neck. 

Lucifer pulled your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the side as you worked through the buttons of his shirt. His hands replaced yours, yanking at the fabric. Buttons went flying, ripped from the stitching. 

Hot skin was against skin in a matter of moments. Lucifer’s warm chest pressed into you. The warm skin of his chest pressed your breasts flat. There was an eagerness to feel you that you hadn’t realized you missed. 

When had Alastor last held you like this? Kissed you like this? It wasn’t that intimacy was lacking with him; it was just that he was sparing with it. There was a passion and need to Lucifer’s hands, unclasping your bra and sending it flying off into the room that you had missed. 

It felt good to feel wanted. It made you feel powerful to have a man wanting you, eager for you. There was no taking your time. He wasn’t taking his time with you. The way Lucifer’s hands moved over your curves, it felt like he would die if he couldn’t take in the feeling of your skin enough. 

“I want you,” Lucifer said, lips working over the swell of your breast as the backs of your knees hit the bed you hadn’t slept in in months. 

“I need you,” you moaned as Lucifer worked the fly of your pants open, sinking to his knees as he worked the pants down your legs. 

It was fine, Alastor told himself as the door clicked closed. This was what he had wanted, you to no longer be a distraction. Yet as he paced the hall, Alastor had found himself to be even more distracted. 

You were not supposed to move on so quick. He devastated you this morning. You shouldn’t have been taking another man to your bed the same night. There was something wrong. 

Lucifer had to be influencing you. 

Alastor needed to stop this. You belonged to him. 

“Troublesome woman,” Alastor said, walking to the door. The shadow moving along the wall next to him wore a bitter frown, anger clear in the spikes of his hair and clothes over the situation you had put them in. 

Lucifer knelt in front of your knees as you lounged back on the bed, hands supporting your weight as you lifted your hips for him. He peeled your soaked panties from your core as the door to your room opened. 

“Get away from her!” Alastor stormed into the room as if it was his. 

“Alastor!” You sat up, arms crossing to cover yourself. “Get out of here.” 

“You belong to me,” His voice rose as Alastor stepped closer, “Stop this nonsense and we’ll talk.” 

“She doesn’t,” Lucifer said, still kneeling with his cock straining against the front of his pants. “You left her.” 

“Leave, Alastor.” Your voice was thick with emotion, anger and sadness fighting for dominance. 

“You do not need a half sized king to satisfy you,” Alastor continued telling you what to do, what you needed. 

“Please,” you whimpered. 

“Angel, look at me?” Your eyes flickered down to Lucifer, thumbs rubbing soothing circlers of comfort on your thighs. “Do you want this still?” 

“I do,” you sounded less sure than he would have liked but that’s alright, Lucifer would work with it. 

“Then ignore him, pay attention to me.” Lucifer ignored Alastor, who was putting off waves of radio static behind him. 

“Get your hands off her,” Alastor snarled as your panties went lower and lower down your legs. He couldn’t see the core that rightfully belonged to him. Lucifer’s body was blocking his view. “I will rip you limb from fucking limb.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” Lucifer said, licking his lips as he leaned in, kissing your thighs as he spread your legs wider. “Shall we help Alastor learn his place?” 

“What do you mean?” You trembled, struggling to hold your arms over your chest and not fall back as Lucifer’s tongue made a quick pass up your spread folds. 

“I mean, let me show him how powerless he is.” Lucifer placed a soft kiss on your clit. “Let me show him how well I can satisfy you.” 

“Oh,” your eyes flicked to Alastor, standing frozen in place with his smile straining. 

“Look at me.” Lucifer’s lips moved against your clit as he spoke. “Pay attention to me. Don’t worry about him.” 

Between the drinks still humming through your bloodstream and the allure of Lucifer, you failed to see the shimmering of golden chains wrapping around Alastor and rooting him in place. The way Lucifer wrapped his lips around your clit distracting you from Alastor’s struggles against the chains, or the way his voice seemed to be muffled by the air. 

“Oh, my.” Your back arched, arms falling from your breasts as the wet muscle of Lucifer’s tongue worked into you. 

He wasted no time in playing your body like an instrument. Fingers pressed inside your weeping core, sinking deeper and deeper as he pulled waves of pleasure from you. Lucifer was skilled with both his tongue and his hands, driving you closer to the edge with little effort at all. 

Your breasts were shamelessly on display as you gasped for air. Alastor pulled against the chains, bitter threats failing to travel far in the thick air of the room. He watched as your breasts rose and fell with each gasping breath. 

He watched as your body grew tighter and tighter. He knew your body like the back of his hand. You were close. 

Alastor had no choice but to watch as your first orgasm washed over you. Each moan was music to his ears, but he should have been the musician. 

Lucifer drank you your slick, eagerly taking in everything you had to offer as your body wracked through the waves of pleasure. Only once you stilled did he rise, tongue running over his lips as he freed his cock. 

You were spread out, shameless now as Lucifer looked over his shoulder. He made bold eye contact with the man restrained in the back of the room. The positioning wasn’t the best, he decided. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Alastor snapped as chains pulled him around the room, letting him see the couple from the side. 

“Making sure you have the best seat in the house,” Lucifer said, stroking his cock as your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice. If he waited much longer, the drinks and soft afterglow of your orgasm would have you asleep before he had really taught Alastor a lesson. 

“Stop me if you can,” he said, chuckling as he turned his attention back to you. “Ready baby?” 

“Please,” you spread your thighs for him, showing him your needy core and begging him to fill it. 

“Let’s show him how it’s done.” Lucifer pulled you to the edge of the bed by your thighs. Your ass hung slightly over now, supported by his clawed hands. The soft head of his cock lined up with your opening.

Alastor couldn’t look away as the King of Hell sank his cock slowly into the woman he realized he loved. You were so hurt that you’d let Lucifer use you for his petty game just to hurt him back. 

Chains dug into his body as he thrashed and fought, struggling for even a centimeter of progress toward the man he wanted to rip apart. He would bath himself and you in the man’s golden blood, then remind you who you really belonged to. 

“I just need to,” each word was a struggle to grind out against the tightening hold of the chains, “Get free.” 

He couldn’t. There was nothing Alastor could do against the power of Lucifer himself. All he could do was watch as another man’s cock slowly pushed inside the body that belonged to him. 

Alastor stilled, watching as your mouth fell open as the king filled you. Your fingers bunched into the bedding, dust floating up from where the fabric pulled. 

Lucifer pushed into you until his body nestled tightly against you. Each aftershock of your orgasm caressed his straining cock, urging him to hurry. For a moment, he simply bathed in the feeling of being inside a beautiful partner once again, after so many years without his wife. 

Ex wife. 

“Pay attention now,” Lucifer said, pulling out from you only to slide back into place. “And I’ll show you how it’s done.” 

Your body rocked with each thrust into you. Your breasts bounced and moved, nipples putting on a dance for just the three of you as he worked into you. The pace was slow and steady, giving and taking pleasure with each lazy thrust. 

“More,” you begged, reaching out for Lucifer. Fingers wrapped around his wrists as you struggled to meet his thrusts in the position. “Harder,” 

“Already?” Lucifer asked, chucking at the needy whine. “You’re so responsive and he sent you away?” 

“Please,” you begged, “Please, just fuck me.” 

“He really is missing out,” Lucifer said, pulling from your body. The cold air rushed around his wet cock as he motioned for you to roll over. “Hands and knees.” 

Alastor protested, voice a muffled buzz in your ears as the man you had loved for the last year was pulled in front of you. Your eyes ran up his red clad body, taking in the way his cock strained against his pants. 

The bed shifted as Lucifer climbed up on it, positioning himself behind you. You looked into Alastor’s eyes as Lucifer’s cock sank into you. 

The pace was as you had begged for, harder and faster. He gave you more and more, high moans falling from your lips serving to encourage him.

“Good girl,” Lucifer said, pulling your torso up to rest against his chest. The long, whip-like tail that extended out behind the devil wrapped around your thighs. The spade tip caressed your clit as he continued to thrust up into you. 

Alastor’s hand fell to his crotch, palm absently caressing the bulge even as he spewed words of anger. 

Lucifer palmed your breast as his horns extended up. Red and yellow eyes inverted, burning over your shoulder as he gave you the harsh fucking you had been begging for. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he pushed you closer and closer to your finish. The coil within you was quickly winding, tightening as the breath was knocked from your lungs with every brutal thrust in a moan that made him want to hear it again and again. 

You screamed as you came, the spade of your lover’s tail slapping your clit softly as you shook in his arms. The men in the room with you would never agree on if the name you screamed was the correct one, but that didn’t matter to you now. All that mattered was the way Lucifer’s cock felt pushing through your quivering walls.

As your body grew weak, he let you fall to the bed. Folding himself over you, Lucifer pounded into you as he chased his own release. It didn’t take long at all for him to shoot hot ropes of semen into you, painting your twitching walls with everything he had. The throbbing feeling of his release had you moaning again, slitted eyes on Alastor while you rode the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

You hated him. 

You loved him. 

Tears ran from your cheeks as the King of Hell’s cock twitched inside you, shooting the last spurts of his seed against your cervix. You struggled to breathe as a sea of emotions crashed over the shores of your heart. 

Your spent body sank into the mattress as Lucifer carefully lowered your hips down. The alcohol and post orgasmic bliss called to you, telling you stories of how you could deal with the aftermath of your actions in the morning. 

It would all be easier in the morning. It would all make sense in the morning. 

In the morning. 

You slipped off to sleep, Lucifer’s hand still on your hip as darkness claimed your relaxed mind. 

Lucifer walked, cock still in the process of softening and standing in front of him, to get a warm towel to run over sore skin. He had to compromise the quality of his clean up in favor of not waking you. 

Alastor screamed, voice unable to reach your ears as Lucifer scooped you up in his arms and nestled you into the bed. It was the wrong bed. You shouldn’t be sleeping in this bed. 

With a snap, the King was dressed again.

“Come along,” Lucifer said, pulling Alastor out of the room and down the hall by chains. 

“I will make you pay for this,” Alastor roared, voice hardly carrying down the dark hall. The surrounding chains slacked, but still prevented him from moving freely. 

“I won’t,” Lucifer said easily, eyes making a point of running down Alastor’s body, taking in the dark patch blooming at the end of the bulge in his lap. “But I do hope you’ve learned your lesson.” 

“Who are you to teach me-” Lucifer cut him off.

“Do not throw away people who love you,” Lucifer spoke simply, voice thick with emotion as he caught sight of the wedding ring he still wore on his finger. “And don’t put the people you love last. You never know when they’ll walk away and not come back.” 

“You know this from experience, your highness?” Alastor’s tone was mocking, a shallow attempt to make up for his lack of ability to generate volume at the moment. 

“I do,” Lucifer said simply. “Maybe you can fix things with her in the morning, if you want to. If you don’t, let her go.” 

Alastor stood, frozen in place even as the chains around him disappeared, watching Lucifer walk down the hall. His shadow split from him as he turned toward his door. As he entered his room, the part of him that expressed emotion far easier entered your room. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[holdinbacksecrets]

svt finds out you were married before you met them

anon… this request is golden. thank you so much for sending it! i had the best time writing these 🤍

seventeen find out you were married before being with them

seungcheol: he’s at the bodega around the corner because you’re out of… he forgot the excuse. luckily, it was mumbled and difficult to make out, so he’ll bring back coffee. his palms are sweating and he looks up at the ceiling as if the answer’s in between the popcorn. now, you’re his. he’s yours. you’re one. but you were someone else’s, and that idea isn’t new to him, but knowing that someone was your husband makes it feel different. he looks up again. “please give me something here.” a light flickers. he leaves without the coffee

jeonghan: he stops to watch you spoon strawberry jam onto slices of toast. they’re golden brown triangles beside scrambled eggs, and you’re making sure the bright red covers the golden brown surface perfectly, just like you always do. the only red he can think about is the blood his heart is pumping, and the fact that his heart stopped pumping for a moment or two

joshua: “now everything makes sense.” “what do you mean?” “sometimes you’re just too good at being my partner.” “that has nothing to do with being married before. i’m literally just in love and obsessed with you. actually, being married did make me strict about the dishes. i’ll never go to bed with a pile in the sink.” “baby, you won’t go to bed if there’s a spoon in the sink or a crumb on the countertop.” “and how good does it feel to wake up and see a clean kitchen, hmm?”

jun: he’s confused. he’s wearing it, swallowing it, holding it in his gaze, and suddenly wondering how well he knows you— why it took you so long to tell him

soonyoung: “i knew it was a mistake by the next morning. i woke up craving my mom’s pancakes.” “have her send us the recipe.” you squeeze his hand and bow your head so your lips can brush its palm. “don’t worry, history won’t repeat itself.”

wonwoo: the photo album’s on his lap. it feels like a fever dream to look at you. you watch the sky through the window, craving color after too much black and white. “i’m mad at myself.” “why?” “i should’ve waited for you.”

jihoon: the ring came rolling out of its hiding spot and stopped in the middle of your bedroom floor. the sunlight caught it. he blinked a million times, felt his lips part too. you let it be. you exhaled, feeling relieved to part with the secret. finally

seokmin: “look at me. do i look upset?” “no… you eyes are all shiny” like he might cry. “it means a lot that you told me.” “i shouldn’t have waited so long.” “you really didn’t wait that long.” “are you sure you’re ok? do you… am i…” “yes.”

mingyu: the words come out on a sunday morning in the park near your place. your head’s on his shoulder. his hand’s on your thigh; it’s warm and the slightest bit rough—different from the cool, soft breeze on your cheek, on the back of your neck. he asks about your happiness and when it left the space you created with your ex. he wants to know what he can do to make sure that never happens again. he wants to make sure he’s not missing anything

minghao: he’s watching you. there’s gentle love in his eyes. he’s hoping you’ll look up and away from the sudsy dishes for just a moment long enough to realize he’s not mad. to realize it doesn’t change anything

seungkwan: he wonders about your wedding dress and if you still have it. he wonders about pictures and videos and the expression on your face at the altar. moments he’s dreamed about are already existing in memories, have already been seen by your loved ones, might be sour in your head. would you do it all again? do you even want to?

vernon: “i can’t help but wonder how many people make the same mistake as me… think something’s love when it’s not.” “do you really think of it as a mistake?” “pretty sure that’s just a fact.” “i’m not so sure… aren’t you the same person who’s told me for years that everything happens for a reason?” “maybe i just tell myself that to lessen the blow.” “possibly, but maybe it’s true. maybe that step that you think was in the wrong direction was crucial. i wouldn’t have found you any other way.”

chan: “i feel like i shouldn’t be looking at this… it’s like i’m seeing your dress before i’m supposed to. i shouldn’t know what you’ll look like walking down the aisle.” “this isn’t who i am anymore. think of how much time has passed. i have brand new skin now.” “…i thought you were going to say something romantic.”

[feitanii-ll]

巛—𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘 𝗪 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗞—⫸

[[ knight !reader x royal !link scenarios ]]

you've been assigned to him for as long as you could remember. people have observed your bond, and it's quite obvious that you're the only reasonable match— the only one he's willing to let take care of him. you wouldn't want to change that fact either, but taking care of link comes with an unfathomable amount of responsibility. such as...

★ "put down that damn frog!"

you're the closest you've ever been to a heart attack at this point. taking the prince out on a voyage where there were monsters lurking about was the last thing you had wanted to do, but unable to resist his insistent, silent pouting, you couldn't exactly denyhim what he wanted.

he's cute when he's curious, which is everyday. you let him roam around with his large observational book, studying and taking notice of whatever shroom or flower was blooming by whatever random tree.

speaking of a tree, you figured to set up a small campsite under a large tree not too far away from the castle. there was a fire going in a pot, and the boy had been throwing random food stuff inside and hoping for the best dish to come from it. you watch with a soft smile— that is, until it deflates as you spot a few bokoblins a little too close and sigh, standing up.

"Stay here." you mumble softly, to which the boy smiles and nods, eyes glued to the way you reach up to grip the handle of your sword, pulling it up and out of its sheathe.

yoi don't take long— really you don't. the bokoblin type was blue, more than easy to take down. you don't even break a sweat until you begin walking back to the tree, only to feel your breath hitch and your heart stop. that damn monster of curiosity (or, link) was holding a poor frog over the pot, probably more than ready to drop it in for Hylia knows what.

your shouting startles the boy, making him go wide-eyed and sheepish as you storm up to him. you take a second to glare before snatching the creature from his hands and setting it back into the small body of water that he was most likely snatched from.

"seriously? I was gone for five minutes." you protest.

his face goes expressive,

'it's for science!' he signs

"I know, link... you always say that." you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, opening your eyes to see him flipping frantically through his research book before holding it open, shoving the open page in your face.

a silly healing elixir that he had been mentioning non-stop. it was probably the reason he was so adamant about tagging along.

"yes, my liege, I know about the elixir. but if you want it so bad, why don't you just simply buy one?" you suggest, exhaustion in your voice.

his face scrunches in disgust at the idea, throwing the book down before signing again,

'too far. want to experience creating it on my own'

you look from his hands to his face, being met with his saddened eyes. if he were anyone else...

"fine..." you mumble, to which he silently celebrates, "just, not in front of me, please?"

'thank you.' he steps closer, and you smile.

'no problem'. you sign back.

* * *

★ "please be careful, my liege." you voice to the blonde prince.

he'd gladly tell you that he was fine if his hands weren't currently full. if anyone else saw how you and link interacted outside of the castle, you're sure you'd be killed for your crimes.

maybe it wasn't a good idea to let the prince of hyrule use your sword and swing it around however he pleased, but in your professional opinion— he's a natural.

"you're doing great!" you smile, shaking your head as he was caught up in his own little world. and he really was. so great that he couldn't heat a word you said. holding a weapon just felt so natural to him, and he absolutely loved it when you offered it up for him to use during leisure time.

his swings are heavy and lethal, but it's obvious to you that he isn't pacing himself. the movements are so natural that he doesn't even comprehend the strain it's putting on his body— not until his swing is stopped.

link looks down at his tightened grasp on the handle, but looseness it as he realizes that you had caught his wrist. his disgruntled expression softens significantly as he looks up at you in awe and embarrassment as you hold his wrists with one hand, and remove the handle the handle from his grip with the other.

"that's enough," tour voice rings through his head as you chuck the sword to the side, face growing serious as you keep holding his wrists, "you alright?"

he can't respond with occupied hands, and so he nods, heart pounding at your serious expression. he wonders what he's done wrong, or what should be wrong, until he begins to feel an ache in his back and shoulders, making him wince. you notice.

"I know that feeling... it's why I stopped you." you explain whilst removing your hands from him. "you're good, but you're straining yourself. you're not fit for that type of intensity."

he mouths a small 'oh', and you sigh, frowning as he rubs his aching shoulder.

"it's alright... I've got something to heal you right up."

the male smiles softly, nodding in appreciation. you were always taking care of him like this. but your encouragement for him to get a little rough and rowdy is why he liked you so much. though you wanted him safe, you weren't constantly sheltering him. he hated that.

he taps your shoulder, to which you turn to him,

'sorry.'

you smile and shake your head, "don't apologize. you did really good my liege. wonder what you'd be like as a knight, actually." you chuckle.

he smiles back, letting the butterflies float around in his tummy.

* * *

★ "what do you think you're doing?"

you felt like you've done this... a lot. for the umpteenth time, you've caught the prince walking around the castle grounds, barefoot, and draped in a softened blanket as he attempts to protect himself from the nighttime breeze.

the look he gives you is one of disappointment as he thinks you're going to take him back inside, but he's pleasantly surprised when you shake your head and simply rest a hand on his shoulder, guiding him forward.

"Don't worry...I'll sit with you."

he smiles, clutching the blanket tighter. beyond the wall, he can spot the swaying of the grass, the wispyness of the clouds in the deep blue sky, and the stillness of the ancient guardians that settled into the ground. he truly loves his kingdom, and you can see it true. he walks until he reaches a spot that makes it easy to see the vast land and takes a seat on the edge of the castle walls.

"this is nice..." you sigh as you sit beside him

he nods, and your eyes glance over to him incase he's ready to talk back. and he does:

'I think I enjoy nighttime the best.' he signs, glancing between you and the beautiful view amongst him, 'sometimes, i think about running. I want to explore.'

you heart aches

"I know, my liege... I'm sorry you feel trapped." you whisper

to your surprise, he laughs softly, shaking his head, 'not trapped... just hidden potential'

you smile. such a purse and positive response. his head turns to face you, eyes so blue that you can't help but observe them thoroughly. he scoots closer beside you, careful, as to not fall, and rest his head on your shoulder.

"I think..." you wrap his blanket around him tighter, "I think we were definitely meant to be this way, my liege." you whisper, and watch as his eyes flutter shut

but not before he nods in agreement, and your heart tate spikes at what he says next.

his hands don't communicate, no. nit this time. instead, you're blessed with a sound ao angelic, so soft that you'd dread if you accidentally missed it.

"I think so too..." he whispers.

* * *

[lizzy019]

𝒢𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒢𝒾𝓇𝓁.

Darrel Curtis x Bratty!Fem!Reader

cw -> arguing, slapping (both sexually and out of anger⚠️), blowjob, squ¡rt¡ng, dirty talk

Word Count -> 1.8K

I could be this man’s brat 😔

You had a strong tendency to speak what was on your mind, whether it be inappropriate, rude, or incredibly stupid. You didn’t have a filter, you didn’t see the need to lie or say things just for the sake of people’s happiness.

However, Darry Curtis was the one who was slowly trying to train you out of that habit. He liked it, no doubt about it, your stubborn attitude was always a pleasant thing to deal with. But.. not when you so rudely told Ponyboy, his younger brother whom he loved so dearly, that his work was bad and he had to redo it.

“You shut the hell up! That’s my little brother, you can’t tell him shit! You’re my girlfriend, not his mother and sure as hell not mine!” He vociferated directly at you, eyes livid.

You couldn’t help but feel disrespected and estranged in your own relationship, but your snobby ego didn’t waver as you spit back something else to rebuttal his words.

“Did you read his work? I’m giving him advice, don’t you want him coming home with an A? Darry, I’m trying to help!” You shrieked just as loud as he did, if not louder.

Thwarted attempts at standing up for himself and his younger brother were causing him to get more internally disrupted than ever before. How could you say such nonsense as if it were so normal?

So out of anger, a hand was raised and forcefully mashed across your face to create an audible “slap” sound. The action had you covering your cheek and looking at him with bewilderment.

Darry slapped you!

Tears began to well up in your eyes, the brattiness you once clung to fading for a moment to let the pain on your face and in your heart begin to take over everything like autopilot to a vehicle in a tough situation.

This had poor Darry conflicted, as he did it instinctively but he also felt you deserved it. Should he console you? Apologize? He was frozen as he watched you scurry off into the kitchen to find a cold compress to reduce the redness and the sting.

Finding a small frozen compress, you gently pressed it to your cheek, trying to find a towel to block the direct contact so your skin wouldn’t freeze instead of your intention of cooling the burning area.

The light tingles had your nerves reacting instantly, soaking up the lovely coolness and easing the pain for the time being as Darry walked in with a pitiful expression of guilt and remorse.

“Sweetie, you know I didn’t mean it. Surely it can’t be that bad, lemme see.” He hummed thoughtfully, tenderly grasping your wrist in his hand and pulling it away from your face to see the red spot and where it had formed.

Darry’s expression grew somber, and he pressed the softest kiss he possibly could to it in hopes of not kissing the physical injury, but to soothe the ache of his previous words and accidental violence.

“Oh sweetie, ‘m sorry. You know that wasn’t on purpose, I was just mad.” He sighed, kicking himself internally for ever being so cruel to you.

His apology was sweet, so you found yourself curling up into his arms and hugging him ever so gently to apologize as well. Your brattiness and ego didn’t let you vocalize it, but you were sorry as well for being a little too rude.

Darry’s lovely, muscular arms kept you encased to his chest, his chin finding comfort in resting upon your head as the hug lasted for a few moments. The soft and tender moment was enough to have you both forgetting the previous argument.

One moment led to the next, Darry had you pinned to the interior side of his door in his bedroom as he mercilessly pushed harsh, open mouthed kisses to your precious pink lips.

Your sweet little moans were only fuelling this carnal desire of his, this desire to force you into submission and to have you in totality was clawing at him from the inside. He had to have you.

Darry’s calloused hands ran up and down your waist from underneath your shirt, the roughened skin of his hands from roofing causing you to give the softest smile from the ticklish sensation. All while his mouth began kissing down your jaw, to your neck’s muscles, and down your collarbone to reach the hem of your shirt.

It was a simple way of suggesting to get your shirt off so he could continue, a playful coaxing technique to get you to listen to him without thinking twice.

Luckily for him, you complied without much thought.

Your shirt came off, the fabric being discarded and designated as a problem to deal with later as your hands traveled back up to hold his lovely, strong shoulders.

Darry took it from there, unclipping your pretty lacey gray bra and chucking it aside to cup your supple breasts in his hands. The pads of his thumbs came in contact with your nipples, running over them so softly to elicit a soft whine from your throat.

The buds hardening at his touch, he attached his mouth to one of them and lightly suckled them, causing a much harder reaction as your hand came up to tug at his hair. The pain didn’t affect him, he was too busy engulfing himself in your smell and indulging in his dirty little fantasies.

It was silly watching you go from a stubborn bratty girl shunned by society, to a proper and prim girl who was desperate for the pleasure this man could provide for you.

You whined in displeasure when Darry pulled away from you, a palm of his rubbing the now obvious bulge in his pants. His lustful gaze was enough to tell you what his next instructions would be.

Knees folded and legs on the cold floor, you gently began unbuttoning his pants’ button and unzipped the zipper, gently wriggling down his boxer briefs to let his erection spring free and into the cool breeze of his own bedroom.

A smirk landed on his lips when you gently pressed a kiss to his leaky tip, the precum he was oozing was enough to act as lube to make your strokes on his hardened length more smooth and evenly paced.

Your mouth attached itself to his cock, beginning to suck just the head as your hand stroked the rest of his length. It had soft moans escaping his throat, resonating deep within his chest as his hand came to push your head down a bit further to meet the thick middle of his shaft.

A spit ring formed where your mouth could take his length, and you could feel yourself gagging every time he tried to hit the back of your throat with his cock. Slowly, you felt yourself getting a bit dizzy from the whole interaction.

“Yes, sweetheart, look at that. Y’feel it? The way my dick’s fuckin’ hitting the back of your throat? Awh, you’re such a good girl.” He panted out, huffing at your sloppy licks and kisses.

Darry pulled out of your mouth with a sigh, gesturing you up to the mattress so he could have you in a more pleasant manner. So you complied like the good girl you were, laid on your back on the mattress for him so prettily.

He followed suit, watching you lay so perfectly for him. It had his heart doing flips.

With gentle fingers, he gently spread your labia apart to gaze earnestly at your quivering, wet cunt. This alone had you a tad embarrassed, but your ego let the embarrassment wash away as you lightly pushed your hips into his hand.

Darry grunted with dissatisfaction, slapping the soft skin above your pussy in an attempt to get you to deter your bratty wishes.

You whined at the slap, a hand coming to cover the stinging and a small frown crossing your pretty pink lips. This had him regretting his reasoning for doing so, but he pushed that thought aside. You deserved it for having no patience.

“You shut the hell up, y’hear? One complaint comin’ from your mouth and I’ll stop everythin’.” Darry snarled, pressing his erection to your core and smirking.

So with a swift jut of his hips, he plunged himself deep into your lovely core and found himself beginning to get dizzy from the buildup of pleasure. But he didn’t stop, he couldn’t! Not when you felt so good and were making such pretty little sounds.

Regardless, you found yourself fighting the urge to push him around, tell him to manhandle you and force you to take his hard cock like the little bratty bitch you were, but he said he’d stop if you did so.

With a soft moan, your hands clutched his shoulders, leaving little crescent shapes underneath them as your hips began to push against his in an attempt to get more pleasure. You wanted hard sex, not this gentle, leisurely kind.

Darry could tell by your movements that you were growing needy, so what did he do? He slowed down instantly, resorting to agonizingly slow thrusts to get you annoyed and even more desperate for him.

“Nuh-uh, no complaining, hm? You either take it or you don’t, simple as that, sweetie.” He hummed out, watching your pout increase with dissatisfaction.

It was cute, tantalizing you like this.

You whined out in discontent, but the lovely tingles in your sweet cunny had begun to betray you as your body spasmed helplessly in joyous pleasure.

“Darry! I’ve been good, please!” You moaned out, hands seizing his strong biceps, begging for a release that only he could provide you with.

This had him smirking almost evilly, Darry was thrilled that you were finally behaving like a proper girl should, not some needy brat. So his pace quickened up, a hand of his scooping the underside of your thigh for leverage as he rammed himself into your leaky pussy.

Moans tumbled from your throat, hands grasping for the sheets and his shoulders, not knowing where would provide more purchase to ease the high climbing of your ecstasy. But of course, he took this as a sign to quicken his pace just enough to have you clenching his cock like a vice and letting out your pretty arousal fluid.

It squirted along his lower abdomen and soaked the sheets beneath you both, and soon enough, Darry found himself nutting in your welcoming womb without hesitation.

A few silent moments passed, Darry huffing out and dizzily crashing his weight against your own.

“See? It’s not that hard to.. to be good, is it?” He panted, smiling lazily up at you as you chuckled a bit to yourself.

“I guess not. But you like when I’m a brat, no?” You asked with the most innocent smile you could give. Which.. wasn’t all that innocent, but he appreciated the effort.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Go to sleep, I have work tomorrow.” He hummed, kissing your cheek and closing his eyes.

[iovebarca]

Transfer of Heart - Marc Guiu

Authors note: omg spain won that surprised absolutely no one!!!!

Warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me, angsty, fluff!

WC: 1000+

You're standing in a crowded bar in the heart of Barcelona, the vibrant music and chatter of people creating a symphony of nightlife around you. You’ve always loved the energy of this place, the Lower East Side vibe transplanted to Spain. Tonight, however, feels different. There’s a tinge of anticipation mingling with your excitement, a flutter of nerves in your stomach as you glance at your phone.

Then, you see him – Marc. Tall, with an effortlessly handsome look that makes your heart race. His eyes light up when he spots you, cutting through the crowd with an easy confidence that always leaves you breathless.

"Hey," he says, pulling you into a warm embrace. The scent of his cologne wraps around you, a comforting familiarity.

"Hey," you reply, your voice soft against his shoulder. "How was training?"

"Exhausting," he laughs, pulling back to look at you with those sparkling eyes. "But seeing you makes it all worth it."

You both grab drinks and find a quieter corner to talk. The conversation flows easily, as it always does with Marc. He tells you about his day, his teammates, the latest locker room banter. But tonight, there's a tension in his eyes, something unsaid lingering between his words.

"You seem distracted," you finally say, placing a hand on his arm. "Is everything okay?"

He hesitates, then shakes his head with a forced smile. "Just a lot on my mind, I guess. But don't worry about it. How was your day?"

You decide not to press further, though the unease lingers. As the night wears on, you lose yourself in the comfort of his presence, pushing the doubts aside.

A week passes, and Marc seems more distant. He’s been busy before, but this feels different. The late-night texts are fewer, the calls shorter, and there’s a vague, disquieting sense of something slipping away.

One evening, as you’re scrolling through Instagram, you see a post from Chelsea Football Club. Your heart stops as you read the headline: "Welcome to Our New Transfer: Marc!". The accompanying photo shows Marc holding a Chelsea jersey, smiling broadly.

Shock and hurt hit you like a tidal wave. He’s leaving Barcelona. He’s leaving you. And he didn’t tell you.

Your phone buzzes with a message from him: "Hey, can we talk?" But you ignore it. Anger and betrayal surge through you. How could he keep something so significant from you? You turn off your phone, needing time to process this on your own.

Days go by, and you try to focus on anything but Marc. Yet, everything reminds you of him – the places you went together, the songs you listened to, the lingering scent of his cologne.

A week later, there’s a knock at your door. You open it to find Marc standing there, looking desperate and exhausted.

“Can we talk?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper. His eyes are filled with a mix of regret and longing that makes your heart ache.

You step aside, letting him in. He stands in your living room, looking around as if trying to find the right words.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, his voice breaking. “I should have told you about the transfer. I didn’t know how to, and then it all happened so fast. But I can’t leave without telling you how I feel.”

You cross your arms, trying to maintain your anger. Knowing deep down you've missed him loads.

He steps closer, his eyes searching yours. “I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment we met. And the thought of leaving without you... I can’t do it. Come with me, please. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

The sincerity in his voice breaks down your defenses. Tears fill your eyes as you realize how much you’ve missed him, how much you still love him.

“I love you too, Marc,” you say, your voice trembling.

In an instant, he's closing the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours. The kiss is urgent, filled with all the emotions of the past week – the anger, the longing, the love. His hands are on your back, pulling you closer, and you can feel his heart racing against yours.

You lose yourself in the kiss, in the feeling of his body against yours. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms. His lips move with desperation, as if trying to make up for all the time lost, and you respond with equal intensity, pouring all your emotions into the embrace.

When you finally pull away, you're both breathless. Marc rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed.

“Come with me,” he whispers again. “Let’s start a new life together.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the depth of his sincerity and the love that’s always been there. “Yes. I’ll go with you.”

His face breaks into a relieved, joyful smile before he pulls you into another kiss, softer this time but just as intense. His hands move to your face, cradling it gently as his lips explore yours, slow and deliberate.

The kiss deepens, and you feel his hands travel down your back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, matching the rhythm of your own.

You guide him towards the couch, your bodies entwined. He lowers you down gently, his lips never leaving yours. The heat between you is palpable, every touch, every kiss stoking the flames of desire that have been simmering for so long.

“I can’t lose you,” he murmurs against your lips. “Not now, not ever.”

“You won’t,” you promise, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer. “I’m yours, Marc.”

His response is a fervent kiss, his hands exploring your body with a reverence that makes you shiver. You lose yourself in the moment, in the love and passion that’s always been there, just waiting for this moment to be unleashed.

The world outside ceases to exist, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in each other’s love and desire.

[misslovasstuff]

[Sanji x reader]

Sol lucet omnibus

He’s like the sun.

And the sun, it shines for all.

An observer. That’s what you have been since coming across an interesting type of person which you couldn’t really understand as easily as you understood others. In almost two weeks, you have mentally noted five things that he does which you find weird:

1. He has a soft spot for women

“Namiii-sannnn~ “ - Sanji slides smoothly in front of his crew mate who widens her eyes. - Your fresh juice of the day!”

He happily lends her a glass to which she politely smiles. That’s more than enough to make him ecstatic. He twirls away in joy to another nearby table.

“Robin-chaaan~” - the same thing again. Not any less or more excitement than just a second ago. He lends yet another glass on Robin’s table and leaves while leaving flower petals blooming behind his footsteps out of the immeasurable joy he was feeling.

“My lady, your drink.” - Sanji approaches you with a charming attitude, bowing as he gives you a glass of juice.

“Thank you, Sanji.” - you smile softly, taking in another exaggerated reaction out of the cook.

“Ahhh~ it’s my pleasure.” - his cheeks glisten red whilst his eyes appear to create a heart shape.

“Oi. Sanji- Usopp is heard from the other side of the deck, - can I also have a -

“Wait for your turn.”- he cuts him sharply, fixing his tie and giving you a soft smile before walking away.

A giggle escapes your mouth as you rest your cheek in the palm of your hand, staring at the cook who you knew to be gentle to all, but to women he was more than just that. He was kind and submissive. For a man that appears strong and confident, his ability to love and care whilst also being witty and rough when needed, is to be admired.

However, the thing about kind people is that, they’re always, no matter what, misunderstood.

2. Acts prideful when actuallyhe has a low sense of worth for himself

“Alright we get it, love-cook, - Zoro teases, - you keep being walked like a dog and you like it.”

“What did you say, moss head?” - Sanji fiercely shouted, pushing his forehead against Zoro’s. The latter grabs his tie and shouts back:

“I said, you’re getting used, again, for the 100th time. Just quit it already. - Zoro states but his tone of voice slowly goes down as he notices a change in Sanji’s demeanour. - No one will… - his words don’t come out of his mouth. Instead he lets go of Sanji’s tie and walks away.

“No one will love you if you fight so hard to be loved. You can’t feed others if you yourself are hungry, can you?” - Zoro states before going down the stairs, entering the bedroom.

You were there to witness it all, and now, you see Sanji lightening his cigarette, throwing lost thoughts in the horizon.

“Hungry, huh?” - he scoffs.

3. He tells others the words he wishes to hear himself

“What’s wrong?” - a worried Sanji appears out of nowhere. You don’t know if it was your lack of being aware of your surroundings or just that he literally proofed right next to you, leaning on the deck whilst gazing up at you, checking your eyes and face for any clue or getaway to understanding your emotions.

He can read people well.

“To be honest, - so it didn’t make sense to hide anything from him. - I feel a bit useless sometimes, and I’m afraid of doing things wrong. Most of my life, I’ve been thrown away because I ‘wasn’t fit’ for the job. People would always bring me down and the ones who didn’t, would just end up disappointed. But here, right now with you… all, I don’t want that to happen. I want to be of use.”

“You’re not a tool, sweetheart. - Sanji caresses your shoulder, - you’re not meant to be used, in any way.”

Your eyes widen at his statement, taking in all that was happening in the moment.

“And what if you do mistakes? - he explains as you lean to the deck with him, both staring at the wide open sky. - If people blame you for your mistakes, they’re just being hypocritical. Those do not define your capability to thrive and fit in. You can always try again. - Sanji sighs, turning his face to you, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. - To ever think that such a kind person such as yourself is a disappointment, may be your greatest mistake yet.”

Fighting your hardest to contain tears, but it felt like swallowing a still-beating heart.

“Mhm? - Sanji widens his eyes at the sight of you shedding a few tears. - Now now, there’s no need to cry. - He sighs, gently smiling at you. - But if you need to, I’m here to hold you.”

Sanji lends you a hand to which you lend yours. He pulls you in slowly and hugs you tight, he himself feeling a bit of pain of his own.

4. He dares to dream the impossible

“Wait, I’ve heard about that? It’s the legendary sea-

“The all blue! - he excitedly interrupts. - You know, I used to read all about it and when I was working in the kitchen…. but I just knew it existed somewhere… and then I set sail because…”

Sanji began to talk about his dream. You knew that feeling when someone’s eyes seem to come alive at the mention of something they’re passionate about.

You also knew how fast that light could die if the person who’s hearing, either doesn’t care or cuts your dream as unimportant, boring, impossible or pathetic. That hurt, a lot. It takes a lot to break a dreamer, but just a little to plant in doubts.

“Sanji, - you claim with a serious voice. -never give up on that dream! It’s yours for a reason!”

The cook smiles, not expecting your reaction.

“Don’t worry, - he gazes at the horizon in front, - I’ll find it someday, and I’ll show it to you.”

He sounded contented and smiled, from which you saw a glimpse of his soul.

“Perfect, - you whisper. As the sunset was setting, Sanji’s eyes turned into a lighter shade of blue.

“Actually, you gotta stop looking for it, - you claim, smirking and crossing your arms, shifting your weight from one side to the other, - I already found the all blue, in your eyes.”

Goodness, these type of cheesy yet profound lines get Sanji every single time. You add gasoline to his fire that already burnt hotter than the rest. He puts his hands on his chest as if it was aching. Sanji falls down on his knees, punching the floor and almost crying.

“Sanji?” - you ask, confused.

“I need a moment.” - he claims, raising his index finger as he covers his bashful face.

5. He shines for all.

This one, is more of a complaint.

The more I got to know Sanji, the more selfish I become. Every touch of his, every stare, smile and laugh, I wanted him all for me.

Is it stupid or egoistical to ask the sun to shine on you alone?

Not only was he radiant, but he was away, far, so I tried to reach him. Although anytime I went close, his warmth would devour me, and I’d be unaware that I was slowly and steadily burning.

How can I turn to ashes from such intensity and yet feel so alive?

When he calls me:

“Love.”

When he kisses the back of my hand, staring directly into my eyes, as if he knew that I could surrender to those his any time.

When he listens patiently, worries and cares about me, finds time and makes effort not to allow loneliness to make me its slave.

It’s a fear, to stay in the darkness, unaware and alone. That was what I always feared, my whole life. But now,

“Aren’t you coming? Let’s walk together!”

,now I feel like I fear losing the light of the sun.

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-Twenty One

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: This entire chapter will be in Angel's POV! Hence the gif! Now before any of y'all ask, no! This isn't a love triangle chapter. Its about a girl who meets someone that has gone through the same thing she has and they have a moment together where they help each other over come those evil parts of their pasts (Platonically) Two people finding their "friendship" soulmates, if ya will.

FUCK YOU. EAT SHIT. KILL GOD. DETHRONE.

We are Fallenvvitch. Goodnight.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid @casangel1986 @qualityvoidcollectorsblog @myownthoughts12 @jilliemiw86 @bellaboo967 @halloweenaesthetic @collapsedglasshouses

READER

I sat on my bed with the notebook perched on my lap with papers and discarded pens all over my bedroom. Salem curled up on my pillow next to me, his purring an eerily calm background noise as it combined with the scratching of my pen on paper. 

“I know it’s colder where I’m at,” I muttered in a soft tune. 

Ew, no not that. 

I scratched through the words with such force it ripped through the paper. 

“Fuck,” I cursed while tossing the book onto the floor then rubbed ink-stained hands over my face. 

I went through four different pens by now and changed the paper from my spiral notebook to printer paper. I had been held up in my room all night writing, not wanting to be bothered. With our tour starting in a few days, we needed to leave tomorrow which meant I spent most of my day and afternoon packing and getting things in order. 

For the last few days, Hollow Souls had been working tirelessly to practice our setlist and make sure all of our visuals were spot on. It was our first tour of just the three of us and my nerves were taking over every aspect of my life. I couldn’t even enjoy the fact that I was about to spend the next two weeks with my favorite artist. 

nothing, nowhere. 

Joe’s music had been a huge part of my healing process for years so when he reached out with the idea of opening up for Hollow Souls, immediately we agreed. Even though the nerves were still there, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I couldn’t count how many times I picked up my phone, wanting to text Noah, but always backed out. I told him I needed some time, truthfully I think I needed it to remind myself I could be my own person and succeed with this band for a little while. 

Maybe I needed to prove to myself that I was able to take the lead of this band without anyone pointing the finger, thinking it was someone else behind the curtain. There wasn’t someone else. It was me.

My heart began to stutter in my chest, blood running cold, so I took a deep breath while counting to four; exactly like Dr. Poulos told me to do. Soon, I felt heat spread within me as the image of Noah danced behind my eyelids. I missed him and yearned for his presence. My stomach was in knots since the second I left his house a few days ago. 

“I know it’s warmer where you are,” my eyes snapped open as the words fell from my lips. 

Fuck, that's good. 

We confessed, we told the truth. A weight was lifted off me. Noah loves me. 

He fucking loves me back. 

“I know it’s warmer where you are, and it’s safer by your side,” I sang while quickly writing it down on a fresh piece of paper.  “Right now I can’t be what you want, just give it time.”  

I began to ache at times, my stomach was sore, and my head would pound. It was often like this that I began to think I’d caught a cold. I wasn’t- it was just me feeling empty. I knew whatever this moment of self-reflection was, it was worth it. I love Noah and he loved me back.

We’d be together; soon. I had to believe that. I knew in my gut. I trusted it but I hope he trusted me.

“Cause if you and I can make it through the night,” my voice was loud now as I felt comfortable with how the lyrics were now pouring out of me. 

But there was this nagging feeling inside of me that I couldn't ignore. We last texted each other at 10 p.m. that night saying we loved each other. The invisible string that always seemed to connect us was urging me to text him. This was something else I couldn’t ignore. 

It was important to me that with this new love, the love for Noah, we have made the effort to fully heal first so we do the inner work that is required to become a whole person once more. All born into our era, our family, our body. We can only be ourselves and accountable for ourselves. He needed to know I loved him, and that I’d come to him. 

Was it selfish of me to walk away after we confessed our love? I wasn’t sure. I just knew it was important for us both to grow from our experiences. So be that rare kind of true love and this bond will be eternal. That I promise him.

With a deep breath, I shifted my attention to my phone and decided to send the message before I doubted myself again. 

Me: I love you, mochi. 

Before I could even set my phone down, it buzzed in my hand with a new message. 

Mochi 🍡: I love you, angel.

The crushing weight that I felt gripping around my heart lifted as I read Noah’s message over and over again. Although we were apart for the time being, we would be alright because we loved each other. I lay here in deep thought and my mind wandered back to my primal need for intimacy.  There is that feeling of maturity, the admittance of being in love with Noah. It arrived without fanfare. Our souls were humble travelers and I could feel the bruise begin to form on my shoulder, so desperate to feel him again.

Salem rubbed his head against my arm and I brought him into my chest, peppering his face in kisses. 

“We can meet in the middle, body and souls collide. Dance in the moonlight,” I muttered to myself. 

Noah and I have a long road together, and it’s one I wanted to last. 

A knock sounded on my door before it opened slowly, Chase's stern smile on his lips. 

Uh oh. 

He leaned against the door frame. "Sweets, I love you. You know I do. But you're fucking killing me with the paint on the carpet in the dining room." 

I knew it. 

"I'm sorry! I know, I know.” I nodded with a long sigh. “It's just the lighting in my bedroom sucks compared to the light in the dining room. I'll put down a drop next time."

Malcolm came into my room, laying a kiss on Chase’s cheek before falling onto the end of my bed somehow missing the mess I created with my writing. 

“Don’t be so hard on her, Chase,” Malcolm said before motioning to my bed. “How’s the writing going?” 

I shrugged. “It’s going, I guess. I think my mind is so preoccupied with the next few weeks that it’s hard to focus.” 

“Excited?” Chase questioned. 

“Excited?” I scoffed. “I’m fucking ecstatic. In less than twenty-four hours I’m going to meet one of my idols and tour with him for two weeks.” 

Malcolm spoke next. “Feeling confident with the setlist?” 

“Yeah! I think we’ve got a good amount of songs and I’m stoked to perform Eyelids live. I think it will be a great way to tease the new album.” 

I’d been very apprehensive to put one of the newer songs on the set list only because some fans weren’t supportive of Eyelids or St. Patrick when they first came out. But Hollow Souls were evolving into a new era and we couldn’t continue to be stuck in the past. 

“Ethan said the bus will be here to pick us up by noon tomorrow,” Chase informed. “Are you all packed and ready?” 

I pointed to the three suitcases at the other end of my room but as Salem jumped off my lap to go lay with Malcolm, I realized something important. 

"Oh, shit. I forgot to see if someone can take care of Salem,” I chastised myself. 

I didn’t miss the glance the two of them shared and raised a brow as Malcolm spoke up.  "Already taken care of."

“You asked Noah, didn’t you?” I couldn’t help the smile that crept on my face. 

“Maybe,” he shrugged while giving Salem some belly rubs. 

Chase rolled his eyes before pushing himself off the door frame and sitting next to Malcolm. “Of course we did. Who else would you ask?” 

“I could have asked Jolly or Jesse. I didn’t want to put this on Noah,” I admitted with a shaky breath. 

“Well, he’s basically Salem’s dad now,” 

“Malcom!” I smacked his shoulder. 

“I’m just saying,” he chuckled while rubbing his arm. 

“We’re not official yet, guys,” I ran a hand through my hair before pulling my knees to my chest. “Please don’t do that.” 

“No way,” Chase shook his hand as Malcolm rested a hand on his thigh. “We’re not doing that. You need to think of the positives. You two said you love each other. Soon you will find your way back to one another.” 

“I love your optimism,” I said while playfully rolling my eyes. 

“Hey, smart ass. We know these things,” Malcolm snorted while still playing with Salem. 

“You do, huh? Do you have connections to the other side?” I teased. 

“We were watching a show last week about alternate universes and shit. It made me think that maybe there’s more of us out there, ya know?” he squeezed Chase’s knee. “Who the hell knows, maybe you and Noah fucked one night, magically fell in love, and went on the road with him. By the end of it, you moved into an apartment that’s right across the street from his house because you couldn’t fathom being away from him,” Chase spoke with a smirk.

My face reddened as I shifted my gaze downwards. “Wow, that’s-uh-you really thought about that.”

Malcolm laughed. “Or what if in another life, Noah walked through literal flames for you.” 

I snorted at that thought because there was no way Noah would risk his life to walk through a fire to save my life, even if I was hanging from a building. 

“Now you’re talking about shit people read in romance novels. Did my long-lost brother start the fire as well?” 

Malcolm narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m just saying, the two of you will find your way. We’re proud of you and how far you’ve come. You and Noah will grow together.”  

My heart jumped in my throat at how sincere Malcolm sounded and the way Chase’s eyes danced as he stared at me. 

“Thank you guys. That means a lot to me,” I smiled. 

“Always sweets, always,” Chase kissed my forehead. “You’re the miracle Noah needed, you know?” 

“I think he was the miracle I needed as well,” I admitted. 

READER

“Wow, Dallas. You are all such beautiful souls tonight. I cannot express our gratitude for all the support we’ve been getting this tour. We’re only four shows in and we’re having the best fucking time. Thank you,” I smiled into the microphone while tucking a long strand of blonde hair behind my ear. 

The crowd cheered wildly as Chase pounded the foot pedal of his drum, the beat making my heart thump hard in my chest. It was night four of the tour and even though it was straight show after show and I was exhausted, I let the energy from the crowd up me hype to finish tonight strong. 

The support of this tour had been fucking outstanding. Every show was sold out and we even had to move our last show into a bigger arena due to high demand. The three of us were so unbelievably proud of the direction we were headed and we didn’t want to look back. 

“Before we play our last song, I think we need to show our opener some love!” I said into the microphone. 

The crowd clapped and screamed but I frowned while shifting my weight on one foot while shaking my head. 

“That’s pretty weak. I want the fucking roof to blow off of here. Let’s hear it for nothing, nowhere!” 

Chase and Malcolm played an in-sync beat as the crowd screamed, cheered, clapped, and jumped up and down. 

“That’s better.” I nodded with a smile while adjusting my guitar. “Not many know this but I’m such a huge fan of nothing, nowhere so to be here touring with him has me fangirling pretty hard right now.” 

I peered over to the side stage where Joe was leaning, watching our set with a smile. We met a few days ago and even though I did my best to keep my composure, I was a giddy girl on the inside. He and Malcolm had a lot in common which made them click almost immediately which made tour life easy for all of us. 

“So,” I cleared my throat while staring back out toward the crowd. “Our final song is a new one and I’m so excited to perform it in front of all of you. Our new album White Noise will be released in a few months. It’s different than our first three but we promise that it’ll be worth it.” 

As the crowd clapped and cheered, I smiled. “My friends, thank you. This song is   called Eyelids.” 

As we began the song over the loud cheers of excitement, I let my eyes flutter shut as yet again, memories of mine and Noah’s night flashed in my mind. 

"Noah," I breathed while breaking apart from the kiss.

He buried his face into the crook of my neck to breathe me in. "Say it again."

I did, over and over like a mantra, as he left a mark on the skin of my neck while his hand switched to the other breast, mimicking his actions from before. The wetness that pooled between my legs was almost a new feeling, never been this turned on.

With one touch I could have sworn he entered my soul. As if my body was his key. He entered me and it fit, pun not intended. Not a thing of metal nor gold, Yet a sensation of love that came.

"I want to hear you," he left a gentle bit on the inside of my thigh

I used the small break-in lyrics to let out a deep breath, doing my best to remain centered so I could finish the rest of the song strong

Noah was in every aspect of my mind, no matter how hard I tried to focus on the song. 

His fingertips, his eyes, his lips on every inch of skin, or the way Noah steadied our breaths. “Breathe through it with me.” 

I did as he said, both of us breathing out my orgasm as our eyes locked intently with each other. I writhed against him, my arousal soaking the condom and parts of his hips. It was such a simple action but the way it set my body on fire intensified the aftershocks to something I'd never experienced. Noah stared down to the place where we met and with a noisy moan, he wrapped an arm tighter around me to pull me flush against his chest as his hips stilled for a second before he emptied himself inside the condom.

Through his sweet words and the resolution of my survival self to never let anyone else sit at my core. He was already there.

As the song ended and I thanked the crowd with a bow, I thought how relieved I was to discover my pure self. That this with Noah could be real love. There was no temptation to change because it was our real selves that bonded us. It is our real selves that each other loves.

That night, I walked away from him without listening to his pleas but now, we were different. We had grown together, for each other.  

Tonight, I vowed then and there under the bright lights of this stage that I’d stay.

I would always stay with Noah. 

“Kick ass show tonight, guys!” Joe cheered while giving us a round of high-fives. 

I smirked while whipping out my phone. “Thanks, Joe! Give me a few minutes and we can head to karaoke.” 

Malcolm rolled his eyes. “Whose time zone is it tonight?” 

“Mine” I smirked into my phone while I quickly typed out a message. 

 Me: I love you, mochi.

“Oh,” a hand with a rose tattoo waved in front of my face. “Who has you smiling like that?” 

Playfully narrowing my eyes at Joe, I stuck out my tongue at him. “Someone is nosy.” 

Just then a new message popped up and my heart fluttered when I saw Noah’s response. It was the same response for the last week but every time, my smile spread wide on my face. 

Mochi 🍡: I love you too, angel.

When I went to put my phone back into my pocket, it vibrated with a new message, this time it was a video from Noah of Salem lying on a couch, one I hadn’t seen before. 

“Salem, say hi to your mom. She misses you,” Noah’s voice came from the background. 

I broke out in an even bigger smile and giggled when my cat did not move, didn't even bat an eye as Noah scratched behind his ears. But the music playing in the background suddenly caught my attention. 

The lyrics sounded so familiar. 

“Gave you way too many chances but it wasn't enough.” 

I replayed the video a few more times to make sure. 

“No way,” I muttered, not paying attention to the conversation behind me with Joe, Malcolm, and Chase. 

I quickly sent a text to Noah. 

Me: Hi Salem baby! Mom misses you! Also, I hear something in the background. Is it..?

Mochi 🍡: He’s napping. He had a long day of playing outside. 

My brow peaked. 

Me: You took him outside?

Mochi 🍡: Don’t worry, angel. We had him on a harness and leash. He loved laying in the sun on the back patio. 

“Sweets, let’s go!” Chase called from behind. “The karaoke place closes in like an hour!” 

I waved him off before texting Noah back. 

Me: I trust you with him, Noah. But what’s that playing in the background of your video? 

He responded with another video and when his face graced my screen, my heart jumped into my throat. 

Fuck. Me. 

Mochi 🍡: I can’t wait for you to hear the final version. 

“Well, who’s that?” 

Joe peered over my shoulder causing me to jump slightly while clutching the phone close to my chest. 

“Geez, can’t a girl get some privacy?” I asked with flushed cheeks. 

The image of Noah in that video played in my mind on a fucking loop and I suddenly did not want to go out with the guys tonight. 

Joe raised a brow. “Oh, that’s him?” 

Malcolm looked between Joe and me, noticing how red my face was. “What the hell did Noah send you?” 

“No-nothing. Just a video of Salem,” I stammered at first but was quick to recover.  

Chase’s mouth parted to speak but soon his eyes turned dark, jaw clenching as he stared past me. 

“What’s wr-,” I didn’t get a chance to ask because an all too familiar voice crept deep into my bones, ripping me apart from the inside out.

“You still have that fucking cat?” 

My heart sunk low to the depths of my stomach and I let my eyes flutter shut, all the breath leaving my lungs. 

No. No. No. Please, not here. Not now.

“He can’t be,” I shook my head while keeping my eyes trained hard on Chase, doing my best to stay centered. 

Do as Dr. Poulos says; deep breath in for three seconds, long breath out for four seconds.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Malcolm spat while stepping in front of me. 

“I needed to come to check out the new Hollow Souls,” the deep voice chuckled darkly. 

I didn’t miss the venom in his words. 

But I never turned around, simply kept my gaze straight on Chase who still refused to look at me; his own hard gaze was trained on the man behind me. Joe noticed the sudden tension and rested a gentle hand on my elbow. 

“Y/N?” His words were white noise. 

I’m imagining this. He’s not here right now. There’s no way. 

“You looked good on that stage, baby. Although, I bet you’d look even better in the back of it.” 

No. No. No. 

A sharp whistle. “I know you hear me.” 

“What the hell are you doing here? Why are you here?” Chase’s voice was thick with anger. 

The voice that I spent so many days in therapy talking about let out a low scoff. 

“What? I came to see my protégé.” 

Malcolm pushed me towards Joe. “Can you take her back to our bus? We’ll be there soon.” 

I shook my head feverishly with tears brimming in my eyes, my back still to the one I refused to look at. 

“No. It’s not worth it. Please guys,” I begged while Joe wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Please come with me.” 

Chase’s eyes softened when he finally peered down at me. “It’ll be okay, sweets. We’re just going to talk; promise.” 

“Come on,” Joe urged my frozen state a few steps. 

Until that darkness pulled me back into the place I spent many days dragging myself out of. 

“Oh, it seems as if you’re back to your old ways. Fucking the opening act, huh? How does good ‘ol Noah feel about that?” Trey did the jerking-off gesture at Noah’s name.

“FUCK YOU!” I screamed as I spun on my heels, Joe’s arm falling away from me. “Don’t you dare say his name. You haven’t earned the right to talk about him!” 

Those cold eyes that I swore at one point I’d have a future with bore into my soul as he ran a hand through the curly locks on his head. Trey smirked wickedly at me. 

“I should call him up. Better yet,” He stuck a cigarette on his lips. “Maybe I’ll send him the video I took of you two ogling each other while you were on stage.” 

I took a step towards Trey but Malcolm held out his arm to stop me, only for me to push it away. 

“Go ahead! You have absolutely no fucking idea what you’re talking about. We should have had you fucking blacklisted,” my upper lip curled, barring my teeth. 

“Good luck, baby. My name gets me places, I can’t help it. Plus, I needed to come see my protege. Since I fucking made you,” Trey twirled his hand towards me with a snide smirk. 

“MADE ME?!” My eyes doubled as my voice roared through the dwindling venue as fans slowly took their time leaving. 

The stagehands and crew members paused their work to watch my outburst. 

I took a deep breath to center myself again, not wanting to create a scene right now when there were still so many prying eyes.  “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed the show. We’re doing fine without you.” 

Turning my back to him yet again, I allowed Joe to lead me away with a hand ghosting over my lower back; until Trey’s voice stopped me. 

“You’re so broken you don’t even trust yourself.”  

“Y/N,” Joe’s voice was soft as he shook his head. “It’s not worth it. Come-.” 

“Excuse me?!” I turned swiftly on my heels, hair whipping over my shoulder. 

Trey shrugged while reaching for a strand of my hair, twirling it between his fingers. “You heard me.” 

I smacked his hand away, the noise echoing loudly backstage. “No. No, I don’t think I did. Say it again.” 

“You’re broken.” Now his hands were in his pocket, a lit cigarette hanging loosely on his lips. “That uh- that new song? That's about him, isn’t it? Where is he?”

Trey made a show of looking around backstage. “I don’t see him anywhere. Oh, let me guess. You demolished it right? ‘Cause we all know you can’t have a perfect thing without doing that.” 

My hands curled at my side, knuckles turning white from how hard my nails dug crescent moon shapes into my palm.  

“You don’t know a fucking thing about me, Trey! You never did and you don’t know a fucking thing about Noah, okay?”

“I don’t need to. I know enough,” Trey blew the smoke towards Malcolm. 

Before he could take a step towards him, Chase wrapped an arm around his chest to pull him away. 

“You know he has asthma, you piece of shit!” I pushed Trey hard in the chest. “No. No! No! You’re not going to do this.” 

“Do what? We both get off on hurting other people,” Trey snickered while taking a step toward me. “I tell you the fucking truth. You’re on the stage singing your pretty little lullabies and maladaptive daydreams because I let you! And you know what else? That little Sykes wanna be?” 

When he made the gesture of sucking a dick, I nearly gagged in my mouth at how disgusting and vulgar Trey actually was. 

Anger filled my veins as he continued to spew his venom. Every single thing Trey said was meant for one thing; to hurt and destroy. He’d spent years perfecting it and before, I’d swim in it. 

Now? Now I was different and I wasn’t afraid of standing up to him. 

“No! Shut the fuck up!” I ran a wild hand through my hair before pointing a finger at him. “You were such a poison that I should have avoided. Every single part of you. I thought you wanted to save me but in the end, all you did was break me!” 

Tears fell from my eyes and I was quick to wipe them away. I refused to cry in front of everyone; especially Trey. He didn’t get the privilege to break me. Not again. 

“How dare you reach out your hand? You said you loved me but acted like you hated me,” I choked on a sob. “I should have run but I didn’t.” 

Trey flicked the ashes on the ground at my feet with a fake pout on his lips but before he could say anything I pointed another finger into his chest causing him to stumble back.

“No! I have to get this off my chest! There’s more shit I have to say!” 

I could feel the proud smiles of Chase, Malcolm, and even Joe as they all flanked behind me. Not stepping in but still wanting to be close in case they needed to. 

“You’re not half the man you think you are! You’re not! You’re abusive, an addict, and I hated the way you would make me feel. Everything I did was under a constant microscope with you.” 

I began to list things on my fingers. “I couldn’t dress the way I wanted. I couldn’t talk to who I wanted. I couldn’t even fucking talk about things that I enjoyed because if it didn’t involve you, it wasn’t important. In the beginning, you needed to know my every single fucking move. But the one night you went out with your friends and I asked where you were going, you thought it would be funny to choke me!” 

“What the fuck?!” Chase roared while stepping up next to me. 

I placed a hand on his chest but kept my eyes on Trey. “I’ve outgrown you, I fell out of every trace of love and respect for you, Trey. I’ve moved fucking past you. Yes, in the beginning, I thought that maybe there might have been a chance for us. But you found yourself on drugs and nicotine. A hollow body like a figurine and I always felt like an accessory.” 

Joe turned his head towards me with a small smile on his lips. 

“Looking back now, I can see it. You always tried to put me in the background. I wasted so much fucking time on you and you wasted so much Hollow Souls time. You held us back for so long because you thought you knew what was best for us.”

A muscle in Trey’s jaw ticked. “I fucking made you. I made this band.” 

I rolled my eyes while crossing my arms over my chest. “Oh, please. Everyone knows that Hollow Souls was my idea. I was the one who asked Chase and Malcolm to join. I wrote the songs. I wanted to produce our songs but you immediately shot that idea down claiming it was too much work and not worth it.” 

Thankfully, it was long after our show ended and the main part of the venue had cleared out but there were still workers backstage as they tore down our equipment. They acted like they weren’t listening to our fight but I knew that with the glances our way every so often, they heard everything. 

“You always wanted to change shit that didn’t need to be changed,” he snarled. 

I held my arms out wide. “And look where I’m at? Every show on this tour is sold out. We had to upgrade to a bigger venue because of high demand.” 

“What?” Trey tossed his cigarette to the ground. “Do you want a fucking medal for that?” 

I stepped on the bud of the cigarette, stepping right up into Trey’s space. “You fucked with my head knowing that I couldn't take it and for that, I can't forgive you. I’ll never forgive you.” 

Chase waved over security as my final words relieved the weight that I didn’t know was on my shoulders. I thought that the last time I saw Trey I wouldn’t need to say my peace but saying it now, I felt as if I could breathe easier. 

“I don’t need you to forgive me, Y/N.” He scoffed. “Noah will never love you and that you won’t blame me for.” 

My lips twitched in a smile as I breathed through the last of my stray tears. “You’re wrong, Trey. He does love me, and I love him. You won’t disturb my peace anymore, never again. I’m moving on, and I’m happy. You should be sad, and truly I feel sorry for you.” 

I took a step back to stand in between Chase and Malcolm just as security snuck up behind Trey. 

“I hope you choke in your sleep while you're dreaming of me. I fucking hope when you suffocate in your sheets that I'll be the last thing you see. Goodbye, Trey,” 

My hands shook at my side, something that Joe noticed so he gave them a reassuring squeeze. 

One of the security guards grasped Trey’s elbow to drag him out but he ripped it from the guy's grasp. Trey eyed all four of us, his gaze lingering on me a few seconds longer than the others before he spat on the ground at my feet. 

The old me would have let that bother her. But the new me simply smirked as I watched security escort Trey out of the building. 

Ethan came up to us in haste as he looked back towards Trey. “What the fuck was he doing here?!” 

Malcolm made sure that Trey was out of sight then turned towards Ethan, pointing a stern finger at him. “Do whatever you can to get that piece of shit blacklisted from any Hollow Souls shows in the future.” 

“Bad Omens too,” I nodded firmly. 

Chase cupped my cheek. “Sweet, are you alright?” 

Through tears, I nodded. “I’m okay. I didn’t realize how badly I needed that.”

“How do you feel?” He had a faint smile on his lips.

I gnawed on my bottom lip, really thinking about Chase’s question. 

Relief. 

This felt like a new wave of freedom. Something I’ve yet to experience in a long while. A new form. 

I looked back at my new friend and then at my brothers; my family.  Those who bring a sense of love into my life. We can make choices to care for the self and still be kind. I had so much to say to him. It felt good to release it- yet; still I killed him with kindness. Something he’d never dare show me.

You can care better for others from strength than weakness. 

At the expense of my own comfort. It’s a prudence with integrity that awaits the right moment to be brave. I felt brave. 

I was ready for my new beginnings.

Joe motioned behind me. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your bus.” 

While Malcolm and Chase hung back to talk more with Ethan about what happened I allowed Joe to lead me outside. The cool night air danced around me with a comforting touch and I let it ease my heated skin. As I made the walk towards where the bus was, Joe had other plans and dragged me to a bench at the back of the venue. 

“What?” I asked. 

“Sit.” When I didn’t move, Joe nodded to the bench behind me. “Sit down, Y/N. Take a breather. I can see the rage in your eyes and the vein in your neck is doing a weird twitch thing.” 

Instinctively, my hand went to my neck, rubbing at it, before sitting on the bench with a long breath; Joe doing the same. 

We let a long beat of silence fall between us and with the sudden breeze of cold air, I shivered and covered my bare arms suddenly wishing I didn’t wear the dress with skinny straps. 

“Cold?” Joe wondered. 

When I nodded, he handed over his jacket which I took gratefully. “I’ll make sure to give it back to you.” 

“Good,” he snorted playfully. “Because it’s my favorite.”

I chuckled while easing onto the bench, now warm. “About what happened inside with Trey-.”

Joe bumped his shoulder with mine. “Don’t even worry about it. I’ve been through something similar. I did love how you threw in lyrics from Clarity in Kerosene. ”

I rubbed my hands on my thighs, suddenly nervous. “Uh, yeah. Your album Reaper means a lot to me so it felt therapeutic in a way.” 

We sat for another long while, enjoying the quiet that shocked us for being in the middle of the city. It was in the middle of the night but neither of us was complaining. 

“It’s an honor doing this tour with you, Joe. I’ve been a fan for so long.” I smiled at him.

“Hey, the honor is all mine,” he ran a hand through his hair with a sheepish smile. “Hollow Souls has been on my playlist for a long time.”

A familiar memory of long ago crept into my mind of someone saying the same thing. 

“We're huge fans of Hollow Souls. Noah has your music on the playlist we play during the wait time for our shows.”

 “Ya know, someone else told me the same thing the first time I met him,” I said with a warm smile. 

Joe’s brow peaked. “Yeah? Seems like I’ll have to meet this someone.” 

Noah flashed in my mind now; his infectious smile, his bright almond eyes, and the sound of his laughter made my heart flutter. Even though he was hundreds of miles away, our souls were always connected. It was as if he was sitting right here with me. I could feel the ghost of his hand on my thigh and his lips on mine. 

“I love you, angel,” those eyes glimmered as he watched me. 

“Hm,” I hummed while bumping my shoulder with Joe’s again. “Maybe someday.” 

READER

As I stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying my long locks, I sighed in content and made work of getting ready. It was an off day but I had no plans, something I intended to keep so much so that I was dressed in a pair of Bad Omens joggers and a black crop top tank. My typical stay-home outfit. 

Just when I was about to load up my laptop to continue writing, there was a persistent knock on my hotel room door. It wasn’t Chase or Malcolm since they mentioned to me earlier that they were spending the day doing a joint interview and then getting something to eat. 

Some would think it was weird that I wasn’t going to an interview with them but Hollow Souls were all for doing our own separate interviews or joint. I did my fair share of solo ones, the same with Chase and Malcolm. I actually had one planned in a few days so I wasn’t too upset about skipping out on this one today. 

“Joe?” I asked while leaning against the open door. “What’s up?” 

He smiled while giving me a once-over. “Good, you’re dressed. Grab your things and let’s go.” 

“Go where?” My brows furrowed. 

“We’re not going to waste the day away inside. I have our whole afternoon planned,” Joe adjusted his hat. 

“You do, huh?” I chuckled while leaving him on the threshold of the open door so I could grab my things, not wanting to forget the small camera I brought along for this tour, and slipped on a pair of white Converse.

With the door closed behind me, I let Joe lead me toward the elevator where we waited for it. 

“There’s this sunflower field I was thinking we could check out,” Joe said. 

“That sounds nice,” I smiled while we both stepped into the elevator. 

“Hilary sent it to me this morning and said it would be a great place to clear your head with what happened last night,” he informed. 

“Did you tell her-?” I chewed on the inside of my cheek as the elevator descended. 

Joe quickly shook his head. “Nope. I only mentioned how you needed to clear your head.” 

“Thank you,” I breathed when the doors opened. 

For the next few hours, Joe and I enjoyed the peacefulness of the sunflower field. We laughed, we joked, and he told me about his life growing up as I did the same. He also told me about an ex of his that messed him up mentally causing him to hide away for a year. 

“I had to cancel shows because the depression and panic attacks were so bad I had to seek treatment,” Joe said as we neared the end of the sunflower maze. “I went to hospitals, sat with monks in Buddhist temples, and went to therapy. I was so mad that someone took years out of my life.” 

I smiled solemnly. “I understand what that’s like.”

“Therapy told me that I need to stop hating the world and hating myself. I found someone who showed me what love is and I’ll forever be grateful for her,” Joe said. 

“She sounds like a lovely person, Joe. I’m glad you were able to find your happy ending.”

We came to a stop in front of a large patch of sunflowers with him a few spaces in front of me. 

“Hey,” I called after him, beckoning him to turn around so I could take a picture of him. 

His black hood was pulled over his hat and a small bag crossed over his chest. Although he didn’t smile on his lips, I could see it in his eyes. 

“It seems like you found your own happy ending,” Joe noted. 

My cheeks burned as I waved him off. “Oh, no. Not yet. We’re not official.” 

“But you text each other every night at 10 o'clock to say I love you?” 

“It’s-,” I pursed my lips while looking around the field. “Complicated”. 

Being in an open field like this, the breeze blowing through my hair, made me remember the last time I was in a place of solace like this. 

Earlier that day. 

"Noah?" I asked while looking up at him through lashes.

"Yes, angel?"

"You have a cute nose," my voice was quiet. 

Noah tilted his head to the side. "My nose?"

"Yeah. It's just the perfect size for your facial structure," I booped his nose. 

"Did-did you just boop my nose?" Noah chuckled with a scrunched face.

"See!" I pointed to him. "You look so fucking cute; it's insane."

"Angel, literally.” 

"Mochi, literally," I mocked while sticking out my tongue. 

Joe’s soft voice brought me out of the memory and I blinked at me. “Hm, I’m sorry. Did you say something?” 

“Do you want to be with Noah?” He asked his question again while gripping the strap of his bag. 

“More than anything,” I answered without missing a beat. 

He shrugged. “Then what’s holding you back?” 

I licked my lips while shifting on my feet. “It’s not as easy as you think. After that party, so much happened and things were said that I can’t exactly forget. I was hurt and needed time away.” 

“So you just left?” 

Hearing the reality of what I did from someone else made the guilt eat away at my insides and my heart sunk low. 

“I needed to get my head together,” I defended while adjusting the black beanie on my head. 

“Do you guys even talk? Besides the usual 10 p.m. texts?” Joe asked. 

Not wanting to speak, I shook my head with a long breath. 

“Y/N, this might not be my place, but that wasn’t very fair of you to do that.”

I bit my lip, not trying to snap at Joe because all he was doing was being a good friend; something I needed. 

“My therapy session is tomorrow. I didn’t need it today,” I sighed while running my hands up and down my thighs. 

“My friend, you do,” Joe snorted. “Why are you so afraid of committing to this?” 

I played with the string of my joggers, really mewling over his question. Noah and I moved past all the bullshit and we’re ready to finally be together. So what was I so afraid of?

With a wobbly lip, I let out a shaky breath and met Joe’s eyes. “I just don’t want to disappoint him, I don’t want him to ever feel like I don’t support him or something.”

He squeezed my arm. “I don’t think you can. If you’re both more than aware that you’re human beings, Y/N.” 

“Understandable,” I nodded. “But I don’t want him to know how flawed I can be.” 

“It’s vital to face hard facts and choose to be present, honest, and mindful of what’s happening in the life of your relationship. You guys aren’t even official yet and you’re worrying about shit that you don’t need to.”

Birds chirping were muted by the sudden commotion of a group of people arriving at the sunflower patch but neither Joe nor I moved from the end of the maze we finished a while ago.

“You’re not robots, Y/N.” He began. “Erase any confusion or doubt surrounding your needs so you can learn to powerfully communicate your needs. You both need to talk. Get it out of yourselves, don’t curl up with shit alone. Don’t do that to him. Don’t assume the worst about him, especially when you haven’t even discussed things properly.” 

I crossed my arms over my chest while shifting all of my weight to one foot. “I never even noticed. In hindsight, I thought I was doing something validating. Turns out I hurt him numerous times, and he still did nothing but try to love me. Even when I wasn’t perfect. I left him alone in that hotel room because things became to real. I left him the night of the party because we both admitted we love each other. And I do. I love him, Joe. I love him so much. I want us to work. But I don’t understand why I keep leaving him. I don’t want it; I just do.” 

Joe gave me a warm smile. “I know, Y/N. You should talk to your therapist about this. I think she can give you more insight than I can offer but just know I understand. You need to approach Noah and this relationship with a loving spirit, believing that he will love you and we want to satisfy you in every way. That he is deserving of your love and kindness even if things feel too good to be true. Feel it out, you’re probably that good of a fit.”

I playfully rolled my eyes. “Joe, I don’t need another therapist.”

He snorted. “No, you don’t, but I’d like to think I’m your friend and I’m telling you, that doing this to someone you love isn’t fair. Noah deserves to communicate with you too. I haven’t met the guy or seen the two of you together but from what you told me I already know.  He fucking loves you, Y/N.”

“I love him too, so fucking much, okay? I do,” I admitted with tears in my eyes. 

“I’m not saying you don’t/. I don’t know everything but, from my experience and what I’ve learned, shit like this can ruin a perfectly good relationship because we simply don’t tell ourselves the truth.”

I cocked my head to the side confused. “Truth about what?” 

“About why you’re subconsciously running,” Joe said. “You’re scared shitless and this avoidance can lead to procrastination that delays dealing with damaging stressors on or within your relationship. It did until the pipe finally burst at the birthday party.” 

“Should I be paying you by the hour?” I joked with a small chuckle.

“If you want to,” he snorts. “No, but come on. If you want him to be there for you, to be your everything, then you have to give half as well.” 

“I know. I want to. I’ve been feeling so sick lately without him.” 

It was true. 

Noah and I seemed to have been brought together by this unknown force. The universe? Maybe: we didn’t believe in high powers, yet also knew we weren’t alone. 

Staggered over weeks, months, or years. In this time the pain of our separation was an act as a focusing lens. The point was to give each other time to see the purity of our love, to be sure that there can be only one lover for this lifetime. 

Seems silly, especially in this era. Yet, it’s how I feel. I just know.

I get almost neurotic to my knees. I know that I must get enough sleep. He made a sham of my pain. I feel like I blew a hole in my heart with an ice-cold magnum. 

Why, when he’s not around I feel lonely when there’s company around. I’m not lost, but I have been found. That level of emotional indifference is not a mark of superiority, but the reverse. I was always worth more, I just needed to educate myself as to how and why.

It hit me. My body yearned for the other half of me.  The lovers who are right for one another take away the other pain naturally, by virtue of who they are the strength of their loving bond.

I couldn’t wait to embrace him again.

Joe peered over his shoulder, noticing a group of people slowly reaching us so he motioned for me to start walking in step with him. “Of course you do. It’s like half of your entire body is ripped apart and begging for the other half back.”

I smacked his arm. “Yes, exactly like that! Even though we’re far apart from each other right now, I still know subconsciously what he’s doing without actually knowing.”

“Exactly. So you two need to talk together about what you’re facing. Discuss the realities and your key concerns. Listen to each other and reflect on what you hear for optimal understanding. Be curious and open-minded concerning each other’s ideas and solutions for relief and change. If you love him, meet him in the middle like you’re saying in the song, Y/N. Don’t just use words, act too.”

We reached the rental car and Joe leaned against the driver's door. “What do you want this song to do; to say?” 

My forehead creased as I put deep thought into Joe’s question. “I think I want to expose the vulnerability. I’m kind of like star light. Maybe it can guide the way to the ones who must travel by night. The ones who don’t know that there is something special waiting for you if you keep pushing forward.” 

Joe bumped his fist with mine. “I love that, a reminder for people. However, it’s not just about that.”

“No, no it isn’t,” I chuckled. “It’s special that we aren't so different, him and I. Somehow together we are balanced. As yin and yang, but a perfect match. All I want is for him to ask me to stay again, and I’ll always say yes.”

JOE

The conversation between Malcolm and Chase was muted as we sat at the hotel restaurant, my food going cold a while ago. After my afternoon with Y/N at the sunflower field with our conversation and everything that happened last night, something was weighing heavy on my mind. 

Malcolm must have sensed it because he waved a hand in front of my face. “Everything alright?” 

My eyes snapped up towards him and I nodded. “Oh yeah, yeah I’m good. I’m just reflecting on that whole interaction last night. 

Chase hummed while resting an arm over the back of Malcolm’s chair. “We’re sorry Trey pulled you in the middle of it.”

“It’s fine but he’s a fucking piece of work,” I said. 

Malcolm took a long drink of his beer. “Yeah. He’s always been a piece of shit. It was like that for fucking years. Trey tried to dictate everything she did. What the band did. He was off doing what he wanted when he wanted. Y/N would fall into it time after time until-.” 

“Til Noah?” I asked with a hint of a smile. 

“Yeah,” Chase spoke next. “Have you  ever heard of Bad Omens?”

“I’ve heard their name and listened to a couple of their songs. But I’ve never seen his face until recently,” I said. 

“Did he send her a dirty photo?!” Malcolm’s eyes widened. 

“No!” I shook my head with a chuckle. “Y/N showed me a picture of him in braids.” 

“Oh, that picture,” Chase snorted. 

I continued again. “Noah has a great range and a good ear; talented guy. He seems crazy about Y/N from what she said.”

“Oh, he is. Shit, he’s over the fucking moon and back and everything fucking else. They have some otherworldly shit going on.” 

“Oh yeah? Think so?” I asked Malcolm. 

He shared a look with Chase, both of them smiling. “We know so. Noah made her fucking smile again. Laugh in a way we hadn’t heard in so long. He gave her confidence when she desperately needed it. Y/N became herself again. It’s been so beautiful to watch her hatch from the sick cocoon she was in. Last night was a terrific example. We’re so proud of her.”

“Yeah, that was something; the way she stood up to him. She kicked his ass. I may not have been around or anything for long, but that was awesome to see. I’d like to talk to Noah about it.”

Chase and Malcolm shared yet another look, the former's brows raised as he looked at me.

“You want Noah’s number? That’s a bit random, no?” 

“I just want to formally introduce myself,” I assured them. “To let him know how Y/N was last night and how awesome your record is.” 

“Is that all you want to let him know? Or do you want to make sure Noah knows that you’re not a threat? Because he knows you aren’t. And he also knows that Trey hasn’t come near her,” Malcolm reassured me. 

“No, it’s not even about that,” I leaned forward on the table to rest my arms on it. “I want to keep him in the loop, I have a feeling they’re still working out this what do I say or not say phase. Y/N’s become a friend now, and I’d like to also reach out my hand so he knows things are cool on our end.” 

I shrugged. “Plus, Noah deserves to know how badass she is and that she can take care of herself.”

After dinner, on my way back up to my hotel room, I had my phone in my hand as I worked out the message to Noah. 

Me: Hey Noah, this is Joe. I got your number from Chase and Malcolm. This is a little awkward but I wanted to introduce myself. I’ve actually listened to your band- you’re really talented! The acoustic version of If I’m There was killer, seriously. 

Now in my room, I sat on the edge of my bed to send another text. 

Me: I’m texting you because I’m sure you saw the video of what happened with Trey and Y/N. I will firstly say, she’s fucking awesome! And I’m honored to be on this tour with her and the guys. Incredible musicians and incredible people. Gearing back to the whole Trey situation, he showed up out of nowhere; but I feel it’s important to let you know, at least from my side, that Y/N kicked ass. She stood up for herself and I could see she felt a world of relief.

Only a few minutes went by when Noah texted back. 

Noah Sebastian: Hey Joe, it’s Noah. I’ve heard a lot about you as well. Y/N has been a huge fan of yours for a long time. She was stoked about this tour, and yes she is awesome. Y/N’s special to a lot of us. She’s a genuine person and has a heart of gold; Chase and Malcolm as well. I appreciate your kind words. That means a lot. You know how it is- especially in this industry. And I did see the video, unfortunately. You were there?

I quickly responded to Hilary’s text before typing out my reply to Noah. 

Me: In case she needed support.

Noah Sebastian: Right, thank you for that. I hated what Trey said, I wish I could have stopped it myself but I also know how important it was for Y/N to have closure. I’m so fucking proud of her. 

I let out a loud laugh when I saw the meme Y/N sent me but swiped away the message for right now, continuing to text Noah. 

Me: You should be proud. She’s awesome and she’s over the moon about you. From what I’m told you really lit a fire inside her, and that seems to be shining through. My partner did that for me when I found her and I’m sure it’s the same for you as well. So I just wanted to pass this along and formally introduce myself. I’m sure Y/N will bring this up to you but I wanted to show you how I saw it on my end. I hope we can meet soon.

Me: Oh, also. Hollow Souls new record is going to be sick. What they’ve been working on is sounding great.

I busied myself the next long while getting myself packed since we were planning on leaving in a few hours to head to the next city. Once finished, I realized that Noah texted me back almost instantly after I sent the last text. 

Noah Sebastian: For sure! Thank you so much. I wish I could be there. But, I understand it’s not the right time. I do hope soon we can chill at my place to shoot the shit. Thank you again for sending me a text. Very kind of you and I’m sure we’ll talk soon. I can’t wait to hear her new album. We’re all very stoked about it. We’re also close to releasing our record, I’d love for you to check it out! 

Me: Hell yes!

READER

“And if you and I can make it through the night,” I hummed while sitting in my bunk on the tour bus. 

My laptop was perched in my lap as I loaded up Zoom, clicking on Dr. Poulos’ contact. It wasn’t our usual appointment day or time but with what happened the other day, I felt as if I needed an emergency session. It wasn’t because of the negative parts but for the first time in a long while, I felt good. My spirits were high and nothing could wipe the smile from my face. 

“Well someone seems like they’re in good spirits today.” Dr. Poulos’ voice sang through my speakers. 

Her graying hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she had black glasses perched high on her nose. 

“I am actually,” I smiled, the kind of smile that made the corner of your eyes crinkle. 

She tilted her head. “Care to elaborate?”

I began telling her the entire story of Trey and my afternoon with Joe from top to bottom; from that night up until now. 

“I’m very proud of you, Y/N for standing up for yourself and closing that chapter in your life. And Joe seems like he’s becoming a great friend in the aspect of telling you things you need to hear.” 

“Yeah, he is.” I nodded. 

Although I was in high spirits before this meeting, something shifted in my brain and I began to stare at the keyboard of my laptop. 

“What’s the matter Y/N? You’re slipping into disassociating thought,” Dr. Poulos’ voice brought me back.  

“Nothing,” I had a tight lip smile. 

“Y/N,” she warned. “We’ve talked about this; you need to be open and transparent.”

Reluctantly, I nodded with a sigh. “Okay, well-.” 

When she motioned me on with a nod, I continued. “How- fuck this is embarrassing. How do I stop running away?” 

“Do you grasp that’s what you’ve been doing to Noah?” 

“I do,” I admitted. “But it hasn’t been intentional. I love him, I’m- I just don’t want to become my parents.”

Dr. Poulos’ gave me a small smile. “It’s great that you’re seeking to address this pattern. Building healthy relationships often involves understanding and addressing the root causes of our behaviors.” 

“I’m trying.” 

“It might be helpful to reflect on past experiences and identify any underlying fears or insecurities that may be contributing to your tendency to run away from relationships,” she adjusted her glasses. 

“I know it’s my mother, I know it is. Noah seemed to know it too since he was there that day she reamed into me,” I said. 

Her eyes lit up. “Yes, I remember that day. You were very grateful for him being there weren’t you?” 

“More than anything. He’s my safety when I feel like I have none,” I answered. 

“That’s wonderful Y/N. In Addition, I suggest practicing self-care, setting boundaries, and communicating openly with Noah as your partner, rather than your friend, which can help build a foundation for more fulfilling and lasting connections. I remember you telling me you finally admitted your love for each other,” Dr. Poulos couldn’t hold back the wide smile on her face now. 

“Yes. I do, I do love him and I don’t want to do anything to hurt him. Noah’s already so hard on himself with everything.  I don’t want to be one more thing he’s hard on himself about. I want to help, be his escape, and his safe haven. I want him to trust I’ll stay because I want to; I will always stay.” 

She wrote something down in her journal before resting her chin in her hand as she looked back at me through her screen. “I know, Y/N. You’ve spoken about this often.  Seeking support in this form can also provide valuable insights and strategies for breaking this pattern. I believe the two of you can and you won’t run.”

I ran a hand through my hair, the length becoming a big annoyance lately. “You know so much about this, Dr. Poulos. I don’t know the first thing. I want to be able to communicate with him. Not do what I have been doing.” 

“Y/N, it’s normal. It’s critical that before you speak to Noah, you suspend any assumptions or conclusions that put you at odds with him. You absolutely need to approach him by making a generous assumption; and by giving him the benefit of the doubt. This is what it means to be a team, even when you’re feeling distant. You keep loving even when you are feeling as if you are unloveable. You’re not going to do what you did with Trey.”

“Trey.” 

His name still tasted bitter on my tongue. 

“Yes,” Dr. Poulos nodded. “You got your closure on that chapter. Now this is a new one.

“I can’t shake the fear sometimes. The fear of the feeling coming at me all at once and messing it up,” I shifted in my bunk. 

“What I suggest doing when you are feeling upset or angry is to own your emotions and realize that they stem from your interpretation of the situation, not from the facts of the situation. Your fears and deep-seated beliefs about your own sense of inadequacy, unworthiness, or unlovability often lie at the root of all those negative stories you tell yourself about why life is happening the way that it is.”

“Woah,” I blinked. “That’s-uh-a great observation.”

Dr. Poulos narrowed her eyes at me while steepling her fingers under her chin. “I have an assignment for you.”

“Oh, come on! You know how busy I already am,” I joked with a wave of my hand.

She let out a soft giggle. “Yes, well, this will be fairly simple.”

“Take a moment to challenge your assumptions, and allow the possibility that something completely different could be true. Like that, you are loved! And that with patience and respectful communication, you can experience something exceptional with Noah. You said his album is coming out soon, this party could be a great way to try this. Have you thought about going?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I said without missing a beat. 

“Wonderful Y/N, see this as an opportunity to vulnerably share something about yourself with Noah, be curious so that you, through this experience, can learn something with him, too.”

I’d be the first one to admit that at first, therapy wasn’t something I thought I needed. It was a waste of time to talk about my feelings with someone who didn’t understand. But right now, I was eating my words. 

“Joe was right,” I said after a few beats of silence. 

“About?” Dr. Poulos shook her head with confusion. 

“Discussing this further with you, thank you it helps,” I ended our session with a large smile. 

READER

“Not to be overly dramatic. I just think it's best. 'Cause you can't miss what you forget.” Joe sang into the microphone. 

I sat in my spot on the couch in the interview space, watching and singing along with a bright smile. 

“So, let's just pretend everything and anything between you and me was never meant,” he finished the song with a long breath. 

I, along with the interviewer, Jackson, clapped as Joe took a seat next to me on the couch. 

“That was phenomenal. We appreciate you being here with us,” Jackson beamed. 

My phone buzzed in my lap and with a glance downward, I felt my face warm at the name. 

Mochi 🍡: You look phenomenal, angel. 

“Thank you,” Joe nodded with a faint smile. “I’m sure I can speak for Y/N that we’re both glad to be here.” 

“It seems like the tour is going pretty well. Every show is sold out. How does that feel for you, Joe? I know Hollow Souls are used to this feeling,” Jackson said while fixing his notes, not looking at me. 

I tilted my head to the side, tongue brushing over my bottom lip. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

He finally looked my way and shrugged. “It's just that Hollow Souls is already pretty popular. You guys are used to playing in front of a sold-out crowd.”

“Are you saying that nothing, nowhere isn’t? Or did you forget that his last headlining tour had three back-to-back sold-out shows?” I questioned with a raised brow.  

“Well,” Jackson shifted in his chair across from us and looked at Joe. 

He merely ran a hand through his hair. “Number one fan.” 

“So,” Jackson cleared his throat. “Everyone online is begging me to ask you two this but what’s the dating situation? There’s so much chemistry between the two of you in the behind-the-scenes clips you guys post on Instagram. Everyone wants to know; are you two dating?” 

Joe and I shared a look then I made a show of rolling my eyes while crossing my legs. “Just because a male and female artist tour together, doesn't mean they’re dating.”

My phone buzzed again but this time, I opened the message to read it fully. 

Mochi 🍡: Tell him who’s boss, angel. You know who you belong to.

I cleared my throat while setting my phone screen down in my lap just in time for Joe to speak. 

“No, no. I’m spoken for.”

Jackson looked at me. “Y/N?”

“That’s my name, yes. Do you have a question about Hollow Souls or the tour?” I said with slight venom in my voice. 

Typically I didn’t mind interviews but every once in a while, I’d get an asshole of an interviewer that asked all the wrong kinds of questions. 

“Video surfaced online that Trey was at the show a few nights ago and it looked like the two of you were having an intense conversation. Is there a chance he’s joining Hollow Souls again?” 

My face twitched as something inside of me burned. I leaned towards Jackson with narrowed eyes. 

“Here’s what we’re not going to do; we’re not gonna focus on my love life, or personal life. I make art, not headlines. I’m cool because I'm me, and my band is cool. The art is what’s the focus, not anything else. I do feel as if people need to understand that having a private life is my right. I don’t feel comfortable sharing every aspect. Like I said, I make art, not headlines.” 

“That’s a bold statement to make. It comes with the whole fame territory,” Jackson tried to joke. 

“I refuse to allow this time in my life to be touched, tainted, or bastardized by anyone,” I finished while crossing my arms over my chest. 

While Jackson changed his direction and tone of questions towards Joe for the next couple of minutes, I bounced my knee as the anger continued to fest low in my gut until another text came in. 

Mochi 🍡: Fuck I love when you put douchebags in their place. You’re so sexy, angel. Fuck. I’m going to think about you bossing me around all night.

A hot flash of arousal took over every inch of me as I shifted in my spot on the couch, clenching my thighs together to curb the itch that burned there. 

“Everything alright?” Joe wondered when he saw the warmth on my cheeks. 

I cleared my throat. “Yep. Totally fine.” 

It would be so easy to call Noah to have our first phone sex but the thought of messing with him later sounded more fun.

“So, Y/N. I’d love to know what the future of Hollow Souls looks like?” Jackson questioned with a different tone. 

“See? It’s not that hard to ask questions that actually matter,” I teased with a smile. “But I don’t think we found ourselves because we always knew we wanted this style and this direction but we never really had the confidence to do that.” 

“With this record though, we finally have the assurance to know that we can make it work.”

“Is there inspiration behind this new album?” Jackson wondered. 

“I've always been really inspired by dark things and the supernatural for some reason. Ghosts, paranormal stuff, death, anger, sadness.” 

I gave pause when I realized that this wasn’t exactly a happy inspiration. 

“Well, anything that’s not happy basically inspires me, which sounds kinda messed up,” I admit with a laugh. 

“A lot of the new record, I wrote when I was having a really bad time mentally. I don’t like calling it depression but it seemed like that and I couldn’t pinpoint what my issues were, or what was wrong with me but I knew there was something wrong.” 

Joe watched with a proud smile and I knew that there were a few others back home watching with their own proud smile; my heart could feel it. 

“My problems weren’t tangible things, they weren’t things I could see or explain to people so in a way it was like they were ghosts or spirits that were haunting me,” I continued. 

Jackson rubbed his chin. “Why do you think that is?” 

I pursed my lips, thinking about my answer deeply. “I think a lot of people are afraid to put it out there and talk about it but we weren’t. I think that might be a big reason people have connected to the songs that have been released so far. I feel like for anyone who’s sharing feelings of topics like that, it’s a little bit scary but I feel it's more therapeutic and cathartic to write about that stuff, to talk about that stuff and put it out there. You feel better about it. To know that other people can connect to that makes you feel even better. As scary as it at first, it eventually just pays off and turns out to be good in the end.”

“Why do you think people can relate to it?” 

I shrugged. “I guess because our new album is pretty raw and honest. There’s a lot of topics people can relate to and I think it sounds pretty great, if I do say so myself. We’re pretty proud of it.”

Jackson leaned into his chair. “I would like to jump back to the haunting aspect of this album. Can you elaborate on what exactly is haunting you, if you don’t mind.” 

We’d be here all day if I did and frankly, it wasn’t his or anyone who was watching business. 

“I’m becoming a very private person as of late so I don’t need to go into the personal aspects of my life. Just know I’m moving past things, and I’m very content. Dare I say happy with where the future will be.”

Jackson nodded. “Fair enough. Would you say you’re hopeful for what the future will bring?” 

With a bright smile, I looked directly at the camera that had been pointed at us the entire time and winked. 

“Oh yes, more than hopeful.” 

Later on that night, when I was in the solace of the bathroom of the tour bus, I wore the skimpy red lace teddy I bought earlier. The necklace and bracelet glinted under the dim light as I extended my arm to take a variety of pictures; the sly smirk never leaving my lips. 

With four different pictures attached, I quickly typed out a message to Noah right on the dot at 10 p.m. 

Me: You were bold to text me earlier like that, mochi, I could barely contain myself. Here’s a little payback. Hope you’re all flustered and bothered, whatever you’re doing I suppose will have to wait. Dream of me. I love you.

Almost instantly, Noah texted back as I was swiftly changing into my pajamas for the evening. What I thought was one text became four right after the other. 

Mochi 🍡: Matt’s right next to me, angel. What if he saw this?

Mochi 🍡: fuck, my dick is throbbing right now but I can’t do shit about it. Consider this my karma.

Mochi 🍡: I can’t stop staring at the picture. Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Beautiful. A true definition of an angel. 

Mochi 🍡: I’m going to call you in a little bit. I need to hear your voice. I need it. 

Switching off the bathroom light, I walked across the narrow hallway to climb into my bunk and under the covers

Me:  I’m going to bed early tonight. Maybe we can talk on the phone tomorrow. I love you.

By the time Noah responded, I was already in a peaceful, dark slumber.

Mochi 🍡: Fuck, I love you too angel. So fucking much. 

READER

"Wait," Joe shook his head at us. "You guys do this after every tour?" 

Malcolm nodded as he held the door open for all of us. "Every tour. It's become a Hollow Souls tradition."

As we all crowded into the small tattoo shop’s lobby, Joe's eyes brightened with the realization. 

“Oh, so that's why you got the tattoo of the anime character on your ankle.” 

"Yep, I smiled brightly. "Noah and I got them together on my birthday." 

The buzzing was loud in the tattoo shop as I waved at the owner who had no problem staying open late for us tonight. We finished the tour strong tonight with a hype crowd and with the adrenaline still buzzing through us, we decided to get the tattoos as soon as we left the venue. 

Joe shifted on his feet while running a hand through his hair. “You’re positive you want to get the Reaper album art tattooed?”

"This album helped me through some dark times in my life. I need to do it, especially with what happened last week. It’ll be a great way to remember a great tour and the new friend I made,” I answered while bumping his shoulder with mine. 

After we all checked in and waited, Chase ruffled my hair. “It’s almost 10 p.m LA time, sweets.”

"Shit!" I cursed while quickly whipping out my phone from my pocket. "I can't believe I almost missed it!"

Me: I love you, Mochi. Last night of tour went off without a hitch. Currently getting our typical tattoos. I can’t wait to show you what I get. 

I sat on the bed, exposing my left thigh to the artist after she laid down the stencil, and struck up a conversation with everyone as I waited for Noah to respond. Surprisingly, tonight it took him a long while to text back which made my mind wander to what he was up to. My heart didn’t ache and my stomach wasn’t filled with nerves which meant it wasn’t anything terrible. 

After my risque picture I sent him the other day, we never had the chance to talk on the phone, but I knew that it still affected him because any chance he could, Noah would send me risque texts throughout the day.

“Thank fuck,” I breathed when my phone buzzed next to me. 

Mochi 🍡: I can’t wait to see it, angel. Also, sorry it took me so long to respond. I may have taken Salem to the pet store to spoil him with a few things. I hope you know I plan on keeping him for a bit once you’re back home. Mal said you guys will be busy in the studio so no need for Salem to be home alone. I love you too, angel. 

“I would ask who has you smiling like that but it’s pointless. There’s only one person who can do that,” Malcolm snorted while his artist wrapped up his tattoo. 

I stuck out my tongue at him. “Noah told me he took Salem shopping.” 

Chase rolled his eyes playfully. “And you say he’s not Salem’s dad yet.” 

Before I could set my phone down, another message came through; one I read with a fast beating heart. 

Nick R : February 23, 2022. 929 Angelus Street. Turn Right on Luna Ave. Overnight valet is already handled. No, Noah doesn’t know when to expect you. Don’t be late, Cinderella.

Nick R: The theme is red. I think you know why. Do with that what you will.

Oh shit, that was in just over two weeks. Which meant I needed a dress. And new shoes. A new hairstyle wouldn’t hurt either. 

With a smile, I responded back to Nick. 

Me: We will be there! Unlike Cinderella, I have no intention of losing my shoe and missing my Prince Charming.

Nick R: Oh good! We are merely the mice. 

CHASE

I grumbled under my breath as I scrubbed out the fresh red paint out of the dining room carpet. How many times have I told her to put a damn drop down? Y/N’s lucky I know my way around cleaning supplies and know how to get a stain out. 

Malcolm clicked his tongue against his teeth as he leaned against the wall, staring down at me as I continued to scrub on my hands and knees. 

“I must say, I love this sight of you. On your knees.” 

I snapped my eyes up at him. “Not fucking funny, Mal.” 

“I think she’ll be really excited for what Noah has planned,” he noted. 

“Oh she’s gonna lose it! In the best way,” I agreed while continuing to scrub. 

 “I think so too.” Malcolm placed a kiss on my lips before sauntering into the kitchen to get things ready for dinner. “How long do you think Y/N will be?” 

“Not sure,” I ran a hand over my buzzed head then threw in the towel; literally. 

“You know how she is when she’s let loose in the art supply store. I’d be shocked if she made it back before dinner,” I continued while hopping up on the counter. 

Malcolm began setting out the variety of ingredients and I reached for my phone next to me. 

Me: Noah, beware of paint all over the carpet.

Noah S: Already taken care of.

I showed Malcolm the text to which he smirked. “Did we expect anything less from him?”

Me: Good. Because even though I love her to the ends of the earth, paint is a fucking bitch to clean. 

Malcolm handed me a beer, one I took with a kiss of thanks, and slowly nursed it as Noah texted me back. 

Noah S: Here’s the address. I would love it if you and Malcolm come check it out. 

Me: Definitely. Let's plan for Friday?

READER

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, eyes locked on the things scattered all over the counter, I found myself dissociating into thoughts of earlier today when we were in the studio. We had one last song to record before we started the final touches but this song was the most important. It needed to be perfect. 

I needed to be perfect. 

Which is why 

“Sweets you’ve gone over the verse we can meet in the middle at least ten times now. I think it’s good.”

Chase reassured me as I came out of the vocal booth with a scrunched up face. I did not like how my voice sounded which prompted me to do vocal take after vocal take. 

I fell to the couch in between him and Malcolm. “I need this to be perfect. I hate how my voice is sounding. It can’t sound like this. It can’t.” 

“It sounds amazing, Y/N! I promise,” Malcolm said. 

“I just-,” I ran a hand through my long hair and groaned. “This is so important to me. I want him to know I’m here. And I’m not going to leave him.”

“Noah knows sweets, he knows. He’s so stoked for this record. You know he’ll love it.”

I tossed my hair on top of my head in a messy bun, exhausted with the length. I needed my neck to breathe. It felt as if I was suffocating under the weight of it. 

“Fucking hormones,” I eventually chuckled while wiping tears from my eyes. 

Malcolm gave me a weak smile while rubbing my back. “Any pain today?” 

“A little but not much. It’s bearable.” I informed them. 

Chase nodded while squeezing my knee. “Ok, if you need a break let us know. Don’t push yourself too much. You sound beautiful.”

Salem jumped on the counter, breaking me from my thoughts, and immediately I brought him up in my chest. His green eyes stared up at me in wonder and maybe a little bit of confusion with what he saw.

“Did you have fun with Noah?” I missed you so much,” I cooed. 

Noah dropped him off while we were in the studio, us just missing each other by mere minutes. 

My fingers scratched at Salem’s neck, now realizing the bright red collar and new tag. 

“Oh, dad did in fact spoil you while I was gone. New collar, new tag, a bunch of new sushi toys. Not to mention the bed that can fit a 20 pound dog,” I chuckled. 

My shoulders went rigid when I realized what I just said. 

Dad. 

I just called Noah Salem’s dad. 

Swallowing thickly at the acceptance, I then looked at the new tag and felt my heart jump into my throat; heat spreading from the tips of my toes to my scalp.

Oh my heart. 

Salem Sebastian-L/N. 

And on the front of the tag were symbols I’d never seen before. “Huh, that's weird. What’s with the yin yang and eye symbol?” 

Biting my lip, I set Salem down on the counter and picked up my phone instead, quickly dialing the number I had memorized so long ago. 

Noah picked up after the second ring. “Hi, angel.” 

I twirled a piece of fresh hair around my finger while leaning against the counter. 

“Salem Sebastian-L/N huh?” 

A quick beat of silence. “Yeah. Figured he needed a collar with his full name. I think he likes me, he was quite needy. Is that alright?”

“Definitely alright, mochi,” I smiled into the phone. “Do the symbols have any meaning?

“You’ll know soon, angel.”

“Okay then. Keep your secrets,” I groaned. 

Noah’s infectious laughter made my stomach flip. “Will do, Frodo.” 

“I think we are due for a Lord of the Rings marathon soon. You down?” I bit the inside of my cheek, hopeful for his answer. 

“Always down, especially with you.”

I did my best to hide my excitement and was thankful Noah wasn’t here to see the way I jumped on the soles of my feet. “Wonderful.” 

There was a long comfortable silence before his rich voice came through the speaker. 

“I miss you. I love you.” 

I played with my necklace. “I miss you too, Noah. I love you.” 

“We’ll talk later?”

It was now him who had the hopeful tone. 

“Always,” I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. 

“Okay.”

I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Goodnight mochi”.

“Good night angel.”

As I hung up the phone, Chase and Malcolm both popped their heads into the bathroom. They had an approving smile on their face. 

“Does it look bad?” I asked self-consciously. 

Malcolm was the first to speak. “It looks really good, sweets. We’re proud of you.” 

“New Era coming, huh?” Chase asked. 

“Yeah,” I nodded with a smile. “Yeah I think so. I’m ready for it.”

“Well good. Because we are too,” he knocked on the wall before the two of them disappeared in their bedroom. 

Hooking up the blow dryer, I began to dry my now darker and shorter hair, humming along to a song that had been stuck in my head all day. 

“I was lost but now I’m found.” 

Salem jumped up onto the closed toilet seat, watching me with bright eyes.

“We’re not perfect but we’re proud of who we are,” my voice echoed in the confines of the bathroom.

[sovksluv]

soft sounds from another planet - chapter 1

🪐 . pairing - twelve y/o!Luke Castellan x twelve y/o!fem!reader au

🪐 . summary - who knew a walk in the park would leave you longing for someone who you had no idea you’d ever see again?

🪐 . includes - sadness, baby Luke, May Castellan my baby

🪐 . word count - 2,021 😭

🪐 . series taglist - @sarhrts @mayaahhs @mischiefmoons

🪐 . pjo taglist - @perseus-jackass @niktwazny303

🪐 . now playing - Soft Sounds From Another Planet by Japanese Breakfast

🪐 . a/n - chapter one of the series !! comments and reblogs are appreciated, i love talking to you guys ! <3

🪐 . series masterlist

fallen leaves crunched under your feet, your shaky legs wobbling with exhaustion. the cool autumn air breathlessly flowed through your bones, chilling you to the core. warm hues of august’s blazing sunset casted an ethereal glow on you as you walked, illuminating the breathtaking features that littered your face.

you took uneven steps, which matched your quaking breaths. your fingers flowed delicately through the leaves of the bushes surrounding you. you silently admired the beauty of it all; of all the perfectly woven thorns and petals that equally occupied the bushes. of the few brightly tinted leaves that still stuck strong to their beloved trees. of the precious butterfly families that always find their ways back to each other.

it’s cruel. how everything around you continues on, without a care in the world. without the knowledge that you weren't privileged enough to enjoy things like they did. you tried to focus on the beauty of the scene around you. happy families walking and laughing with each other, leaves falling from their semi-bare trees, birds singing beautifully to their dearest loved ones. maybe taking a picture would successfully etch it into your mind.

it’s unfair. you desperately yearn for the love you sense in the air. for the security that those around you can feel in their own homes. it’s not fair that their habitat has become a refuge for you; to escape from the house called ‘home.’ you felt safe in the masked delicacy of the park. the cherished home of the unique insects and plants. 

the sun had traveled further down since the start of your walk, but still gave you the same warm feeling from before. you kept your head pointing to the ground, your eyes traced the path you created. up ahead of you was an empty bench. It sat quietly and unbothered under a tree, which strategically blocked the sun from where you’d sit, while also allowing a slight glow to beam down on it.

in your mind, you had already claimed the bench before you even got to it. and when you were close enough to sit on it, you chose the spot right in the middle, hoping your choice would show those around that you’d prefer to stay alone. you leaned against the backrest of the bench. there was a distant look in your eyes, not truly focused on one thing.

a dim, empty hue flooded your eyes and a solemn look heavily rested upon your intricate features. you basked in the sweet sound of the rustling trees. there was a slight pounding in your head, the result of the sobs that frantically wracked through your body prior to your walk. your strong emotions pathetically left your nose runny and eyes puffy. 

the scene that played itself before you in the last hour weighed down all that was left in your heart. the great being that controlled your life roughly pulled on the few strings connecting your heart to your mind. it made your insides feel heavy and achy, leaving your mind an irreversible, trashed mess.

you focused your eyes back to the scene before you. fewer people stood around than before, most having left at the newer darkness that had formed. there was no one that really stood out to you. your eyes glazed over all your surroundings, quickly pausing at things that you found most intriguing. the final stop was at the bench across the park from you, though you were unable to tear your eyes away.

sat at said bench, mirroring you, was a boy. from afar he seemed he could be your age, yet it was still hard to tell. he, too, sat in the middle of his bench. you couldn’t see his face well, but you could see most of him. though he was sitting, he looked to be somewhat tall. he had dark curls and a blurry face you wish you could see up close.

you wouldn't dare go up to him, though. afraid you’d scare him off with your rough voice and red eyes. with your decision held firm in your mind, you still allowed yourself to shamelessly stare at him. how could someone so physically far from you feel so emotionally close? you had an inexplicably deep desire to know him. To understand why he was here. or how he seemed to be the one thing you needed that was there right when you needed him.

you got so lost in your desires to know this mystery boy that you failed to notice how you caught his attention. you were brought back to the present, eyes meeting his far ones. you should've been embarrassed, being caught staring at a boy you’ve never met, yet you weren’t. it just made you want to talk to him even more. 

your shared eye contact stayed strong. neither of you chose to be the one to break it. that’s what you thought, until he stood up. he was tall. he made careful, hesitant steps towards you, assuming you shared the same interest in him as he did you. you were intrigued, and him nearing you made your odd desires to know him grow rapidly. so you stood up as well, elegantly flowing towards him. 

you and the boy met each other in the middle, what was barely left of the sunset lit up his features beautifully. he looked like a god. the light illuminated the glowing gold specks in his brown eyes. he had a scar of a hero that ran down his right cheek. his raven hair curled perfectly in all possible directions. there was a mystifying, ethereal beauty to him, one that you could spend forever observing. 

nothing was awkward between you. it felt as if you’d known him all your life. it felt like you had lived a whole lifetime with him, yet in this one, you don't even know his name. a new feeling washes over you, one so unfamiliar that you struggle to put it into words. you feel like just by being in his presence, you’re more protected than you’ve ever been.

around this boy, whom you ‘just met,’ you felt an indescribable tug. like the being controlling your heartstrings had intricately tied them to his, entrusting him to protect your heart in ways you’d never imagine you deserved. and you did deserve it. one day he’d show you just how much you did.

“i’m Luke,” he muttered, it was barely above a whisper. however, your close proximity allowed for his quiet words to be clearly understood. his voice was soft and soothing. the delicate strum of his vocal cords physically calmed you. they sent a strong wave of reassurance through you, ridding you of all your previous worries. 

you finally told him your name, and you swear you saw his eyes gleam even more. in admiration? curiosity? there was an unspoken connection that sat comfortably between you two, buzzing with delight. you didn’t even need to speak and still there was so much being said.

neither of you seemed to have an actual conversation to start, both just wanting to be in the presence of the other. he softly smiled at you, his pearly white teeth flashing by in a blink. he had small dimples on both cheeks. his smile, his dimples and his bright eyes ignite something in you, making your head feel fuzzy.

he awkwardly glanced around you guys, taking a calm breath and beginning to talk, “why are you sitting here all alone? you look upset.” you felt his burning gaze as he watched you, awaiting your answer, but you hadn’t returned it. he whispered your name, catching your full attention. your eyes met his. they were full of patience and interest, allowing you to say only what you needed to. 

“just- needed to get away, i guess.” he nodded understandingly at your words, knowing that you may not want to share anything else. from an outside view, you two must’ve looked strange, standing in the middle of the park sharing a few words with each other. but between the two of you, it was so much more. 

Luke didn’t push you, didn’t make you say more than you could. he waited for you to talk to him, to trust him. a comfortable wave of silence washed over, so much was being expressed just from the eye contact you guys made, and the smiles you shared. 

you hadn’t noticed that Luke wasn’t the only one presenting a smile, but he did. a breathtaking smile was plastered on your lips, creases formed in the corner of your eyes, which shone with a feeling that could only be described as feeling alive. you felt like all your problems were small and stupid. when Luke was around, he acted like a true guard of your heart. protecting you from all that burdened and weighed you down.

your body moved on autopilot as you found the words you had been searching for, you were just on the brink of uttering them. “Luke!” his attention was torn away from you at the call, his head darted behind him. a slim woman with long, dark hair, who you assumed was his mother, stood at one of the entrances, waving her arm, beckoning him towards her.

he waved back, possibly a signal for ‘one minute.’ a dreadful feeling flooded your insides, sprouting from your stomach and spreading rapidly. it hit your heart first, and you felt the warm sensation of his silent protection fading away. all you could do was stand and watch the comfort you felt slowly seep from within you.

he looked back at you again, but his smile had shrunk. now, he looked at you with remorse, not missing the emptiness that formed in the dark parts of your eyes. he took pity, understanding the reasons behind your poorly hidden feelings. he still didn't push, however, not wanting to pile on the growing pressure that was filling your heart.

“you have to go?” he sighed. and he waited for the silence to answer your question. it did. he still looked at you, though, as you did him. you tried to not let any emotion on your face, it’s not his fault that he has to leave, and it's not fair to blame him. neither wanted to be the one to walk away first, but he knew it would have to be him. his mother was waiting. he couldn’t keep his mother waiting.

he flashed a dim smile, “it was nice meeting you.” he tried to ease the quiet, hoping it would give back that comfort, even for a small time. you lowly grinned, offering the young boy your hand, “will I ever see you again, Luke?” gears turned in his head as he pondered the question. Luke smiled, answering your question with a nod as he shook your hand. his was warm, and comforting, and it gave you a pinch of comfort that quickly disappeared as he pulled away.

then, he said his goodbyes, walking back over to the woman at the entrance. the woman who smiled brightly at his arrival, wrapping her arm around him and playfully ruffling his hair. you couldn’t tear your eyes from the acts of affection playing in front of you, sending hurtful pangs straight to your heart. the strings felt like they were being forcefully tugged on with no remorse.

Luke had glanced back at you, hoping to make eye contact with you one last time. but your back was already facing him as you walked away, footsteps heavy. Luke didn’t know what you had to go home to. he didn’t know that you yearned for what he had with his mother. but he didn’t have to know.

you had barely been gone for a few minutes, escaping into the darkness of the woods, yet Luke already missed you, wishing he could be back in your comforting presence once again. you cherished the new, euphoric feeling he gave you, the soft sounds that played from him. 

the soft sounds from his planet that lit the dim lights on yours.

© sovksluv 2024 , please do not repost or translate my work !

[ivystoryweaver]

Fairytale of New York

Summary: A tired, pathetic puppy wanders into your diner on Christmas Eve. Things...escalate.

Pairing: Llewyn Davis from Inside Llewyn Davis x f!reader who wants what she wants

Word Count: 2.2k

Content: nsfw, mdni, language, mentions of past mistreatment, talk of contraception, gun but no violence, oral -f and m rec., not beta'd

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Bone-weary.

Your grandmother used to say it.

The man in front of you looked deep-in-his-bones, forlornly, kicked-puppy exhausted.

Which was a feat in and of itself, seeing how you were surrounded this evening by hungry, homeless people, and he was definitely the most handsome one by far.

Chocolate curls tumbled effortlessly across his forehead. His dark beard was kempt - not the fuzzy, matted mess of the men around him.

At first glance, you wondered if he was here to order a regular meal or volunteer. He almost looked put-together enough.

But he sighed - a bone-weary, defeated, groaning sigh.

"Cold night," you commented, noticing how he struggled to create even the tiniest spark of warmth from his corduroy blazer and wool scarf. He seemed to try and make himself smaller, as if willing the too-thin layers of fabric to truly envelop him.

"No shit," he fired back, clenching his fingerless glove around the handle of his guitar case. Noticing your look of slight amusement, he sighed, tiredly. "Sorry. Long night. Wondering if I could get some coffee?"

"Sure thing," you nodded past him to an empty two-top, offering him a warm smile.

Your boss Sal was a hard ass with a heart of gold. On Christmas Eve, anyone could eat free from ten to midnight at this fine dining establishment where you earned your measly paycheck.

You were living the dream - serving diner tables. But Sal was good to you and the other guys and gals you called coworkers - granting holiday bonuses and sometimes, you could swear he beefed up your tips at the end of the night. Just a couple dollars here or there, but it helped.

You returned to the pathetic puppy of a man with a fresh, hot cup of coffee. "Want something to eat? Everything's on the house tonight."

One eyebrow shot up curiously. "Free? You're serious."

"It's Christmas Eve," you said mysteriously, wiggling your fingers as if casting a spell. "Sal's got a soft spot for people who need a hot meal and got nowhere to go."

Kicked Puppy nodded, his eyes momentarily flickering up and down your body.

"So, what'll it be, handsome? You want something to warm you up besides that coffee? Or do you have a pressing holiday engagement?"

Narrowing his tired, dark eyes, he looked like he was trying to come up with a clever reply, but ultimately let out a defeated, bitter-ish chuckle. "Got friends, but...every one of them's pissed at me. On my own tonight."

He shrugged helplessly. "I guess I'm kind of an asshole sometimes."

Wagging your finger, you went along with him, playfully. "I could tell that about you, right when you walked in. I took one look and thought, 'that guy is definitely an asshole. Probably shouldn't serve him.'"

He almost chuckled, but it was a weak laugh at best.

"Bowl of chili sound good? Or...I have chicken noodle, or a hamburger. Not much left in the kitchen," you offered.

A few minutes later, Mr. Handsome Kicked Puppy sipped his bowl of chili while you finished up with your other customers. A few of the homeless guys liked to flirt with you, but they were pretty harmless.

Everyone knew not to cross Sal and his employees anyway.

You noticed Kicked Puppy's gaze fixed on you, so you made your way back over and checked to see if he needed a refill.

"I'm good," he waved you off, but something made you linger. Probably the fact that he was kind of beautiful.

"You a singer?" You prodded, nodding to his guitar case.

He made a face - seemed to be a sore spot for him, but concurred. "Sang across the street tonight. You ever been?"

Peering out the window, you read the club's neon sign. "No, but I always wanted to. What kind of music?"

"The only kind," he shrugged.

You motioned to the spot across from him. "Mind if I sit a minute? Feet are killing me. Promise I won't ask you to sing."

He leaned back, folding his arms over his chest, eyeing you curiously. "Oh, you won't?"

"'Course not," you smiled, waving your hand dismissively. "Everyone knows musicians hate that. It's like...your living. You can't just sing for free."

His eyebrows shot up as he leaned in. "You're mocking me..."

"No," you laughed. "I'm serious. It would be like someone asking me to serve drinks at a party without paying me." You motioned around you. "Not much of a career but I should still get paid for it."

"Thank you." He gestured animatedly. "My...friends - some of the people who usually let me crash - always try to parade me out at dinner parties, like an attraction. Fucking annoying."

He paused for a moment. "Almost feel like I owe them sometimes, you know... Can't do it, though."

"You have your pride," you sympathetically reasoned. "That's fair enough."

You stood, reaching to collect his dirty dishes. "So, who's couch is it tonight if everyone's pissed at you?"

Running a gloved hand over his beard, he shook his head and shrugged. "What time do you close?"

"Midnight."

He slowly nodded.

"What's your name, singer?"

"Llewyn."

You smiled softly and introduced yourself. "You don't have anywhere to go after midnight, do you?"

He shook his head as his gaze dropped.

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

12:24 A.M. - Christmas

"Can't believe you're letting a strange man sleep in your apartment," the handsome bone-weary puppy voiced as you turned the key in your deadbolt.

"You're not a stranger anymore, Llewyn," you replied, trying to find just the right way to wiggle your key... "Got it! Damn thing sticks all the time."

Shouldering your way inside, you tossed your bag on the tiniest kitchen bar in existence, motioning for him to come on in.

"Like I told you - it's not much. You might be warmer sleeping in a car, but the love seat will keep you off this frigid, hard floor. And the water's warm, since we're over the diner. Sal's my landlord too. He keeps everything running nice enough. Cheap ass on heat though."

"No, I really appreciate it," he gratefully returned, “especially on Christmas. You sure I'm not interrupting anything?"

"No..." You let out a wistful sigh. "No, I don't have anyone." You smirked at him playfully. "But I do own a revolver if you're having any weird ideas."

"Holy shit," he whistled. "Glad you take care of yourself, I guess."

Llewyn reveled in your attention and care over the next half hour. You made a batch of hot cocoa while he took the warmest shower he'd had in weeks. You turned on a Christmas record and found a couple of thick blankets for him to sleep (or attempt to sleep) cramped up on the love seat.

"Thank you for this," he quietly voiced, sipping his cocoa, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. "Don't deserve it. If you knew me, you'd push me right back out that door."

"Maybe," you shrugged, sipping your own warm beverage as you curled up in the only chair in the place. "But it's Christmas. Even assholes and loners need a break sometimes."

He regarded you with interest, his eyes raking over your form for the millionth time. "That what you are? A loner?"

You hid behind the ceramic of your mug for a moment of reprieve. "Have to be. What else is there for a woman who doesn't want a marriage and kids?"

You shuddered, remembering how many times your ex had sabotaged your efforts at contraception...and how violent he'd become when he found out you were actively trying to not get pregnant.

Hence the waitress job, freezing apartment...and the revolver.

"You don't want kids?" He asked, clearing his throat. Maybe you were somehow...perfect.

"I really don't. You’d think women would have a few more options now that it’s the ‘60s. So I got my revolver to make sure my ex stays away. He’s a bigger asshole than the two of us," you answered, transparently. Noticing how his dark eyes widened at your candor, you laughed.

"Scared yet?"

"No," he chuckled. "But I guess that answers the question of whether or not we're gonna fuck."

Smirking, you took one more sip of cocoa before pushing off your chair to kneel down in front of him. Your eyes met his challengingly as you spread your palms over his thighs, pushing them up to his hips.

"That why you're an asshole?" You challenged, reaching for the zipper of his trousers. "Can't be bothered to wear a condom?"

"Can't afford that shit," he fired back, enjoying the view down your t-shirt.

"Definitely an asshole," you shake your head, dragging his zipper down and tracing your fingertips over the outline of his hardening length.

"My pussy's off limits unless you want my revolver shoved up your ass," you inform, leaning over to suck on his leaking tip through the fabric of his underwear. "But fuck it. It's Christmas. You can come in my mouth."

"Fucking hell," he groaned at your forwardness, shifting his hips to give you easier access to pull his cock free.

"Oh shit, you're big," you marveled, running the tip of your tongue over your lips in anticipation. Wrapping your hands around him, you turned your eyes up to his. "Merry Christmas. Don't say I never gave you anything."

You licked a stripe up the underside of his shaft before placing him on your flat tongue. Your eyes flickered back up to his tauntingly as you slowly wrapped your lips around him and swirled your tongue.

"Jes....oh fuck," he moaned, gripping the arm of the tiny couch.

Bobbing your head up and down a few times, you pushed yourself past the point of comfort and swallowed his tip. Your mouth stretched to take him, and the challenge of it made you instantly wet.

“Holy f-fuck,” he responded eagerly, “just like that.” You let him fuck your mouth, free hand gripping your jaw as his hips found a rhythm thrusting and gagging you.

Something about how pathetic this man was - how eager and responsive to your touch - it was doing it for you. You hadn’t done anything this spontaneous in a long time, but it felt good. And you certainly didn’t mind a heavy, hot cock in your mouth.

A few heavy thrusts and gags later and he coated your throat with his spend, letting out a near embarrassing whine as he came.

You let him soften before pulling off him and licking your lips clean. “Bet you’ll sleep well now.” You winked.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, shaking his head as you stood and started to shed your clothes. Remembering you were pretty clear about not fucking without a condom, he slowly stood, stuffing his soft cock back into his pants. “What are you…”

“I have a twin bed, but you’ll fit better than on that thing.” You nodded to the love seat, now standing in front of him completely nude. “But to sleep with me, you’re gonna need to return the favor. I’m fucking soaked.”

Minutes later, this rather beautiful, bearded man knelt between your legs in bed, his prominent nose nudging tauntingly at your puffy clit. His plush mouth sampled your pussy lips, as if he was making out with your cunt.

“F-fuck yes,” you groaned as he fucked his tongue into your hole, sucking and slurping at your juices.

Your hands slid into the softest curls, twisting them around your fingers as you rocked your pelvis up to meet his soft beard.

The he started humming. And not just a humming sound but a fucking tune. After several delicious, deep thrusts of his tongue, he pulled out, making you whine at the loss of stimulation.

His hum gently morphed into a few lyrics as his eyes gazed up at you, equal parts cocky and pussy drunk - your slick coating his beard and lips.

‘Hang me, oh hang me��I’ll be dead and gone…’

He slid two fingers into your slick, warm hole, curling them with the dexterity of an instrumentalist. Then lowered his smirking mouth back down to trace circles around your clit with his tongue. Kept right on humming.

Laying his tongue flat, he laved your sensitive bundle of nerves with a few rough licks before wrapping those sexy lips around it and sucking.

He added a third finger - you were plenty wet enough for it and the slight stretch made your back arch off your twin bed. Fingers curling, lips sucking, and that insistent hum sent you right over the edge into earth-shattering bliss. Your body seized in mind-altering pleasure and then went completely white as you rode out the best orgasm you’d had in years.

He worked you through it before blatantly licking you clean and climbing his way up your body to cage you in. The look on his face told you he was definitely satisfied with himself, but the hot flesh of his cock prodding at your thigh meant he didn’t want this to be over.

"Is that my revolver or are you ready for more?" You teased, reaching to wrap you fingers around his cock. "Don't think I have any condoms big enough for all this."

He groaned, hips shifting into your grip. "Maybe we could just - "

"I'll will shoot you. Go the fuck to sleep, Llewyn."

And that's how an exhausted, pathetic puppy of a man, with soulful brown eyes, and the voice of an angel, ended up in your twin bed on Christmas Eve.

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

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[straxxberrypunki]

Hii so I have a request would it be possible to write Headcanons about Valeria Garza who is an evil queen etc but that her fiancée is the sweetest woman she has ever met? I hope it won't bother you too much, kisses kisses 💋💃

YESS ofc!! My very first ask/request 😼

( The Queen’s Obsession: Loving Valeria Garza )

Ruthless evil queen Valeria Garza w/ a sweet hearted fiancée reader. ~

- Valeria’s affection is not soft or gentle. She shows her love in grand, sometimes overwhelming gestures. Expensive gifts, luxurious trips, and extravagant dinners are all part of how she expresses her feelings. But don’t mistake her generosity for submission. Valeria is always in control, and she makes it clear that in her world, she’s the one who calls the shots.

- As much as you try to bring out the softer side of Valeria, don’t expect her to change her ways. She is unapologetically ruthless, and no amount of kindness from you will alter her cold, calculated nature. She might adore your compassion, but Valeria is firm: she is who she is, and she won’t bend—not even for you.

- Valeria’s love is protective, sometimes to a suffocating degree. She won’t tolerate anyone being a threat to you, and if someone crosses the line, she’ll handle it swiftly and without hesitation. Her protectiveness comes from a deep place of devotion, but it often leaves you feeling like you’re under her watchful eye 24/7.

- Valeria thrives on control, both in her cartel empire and in your relationship. She often decides things for you—what’s best for your safety, what’s best for your future. While it can feel overbearing, it stems from her genuine care. In her own way, she believes she’s protecting you from the dangers of her world.

- To the world, Valeria is a cold, ruthless queen, but with you, she’s different. When it’s just the two of you, she shows rare moments of tenderness. She craves the softness you bring to her life, allowing herself to be vulnerable in your presence, though these moments are fleeting. You are her escape from the brutality of her everyday life.

- Valeria’s devotion to you is absolute, but it’s also dangerous. She’ll go to extreme lengths to protect you, sometimes crossing lines that make you uncomfortable. You are her treasure, her soft spot, and she would do anything—even commit acts you’d rather not know about—to keep you safe. It’s both a comforting and terrifying reality.

- Valeria knows how to manipulate, and that doesn’t stop with you. While she loves you deeply, she’s used to getting her way and will often use her charm to sway you into agreeing with her. Whether it’s steering you away from her darker dealings or convincing you not to question her violent lifestyle, Valeria knows how to keep you in line.

- Despite her hardened exterior, Valeria truly loves you. You’re the kindness and sweetness she rarely sees in her world, and that’s why she’s so drawn to you. To her, you’re a breath of fresh air—a glimpse of the good she doesn’t often encounter. It’s your gentle heart that makes her feel alive in ways she hadn’t felt in years, even if she can’t fully embrace your softness herself.

- Valeria is intensely possessive of you. She doesn’t like to share your attention and has no problem cutting people out of your life if she feels they don’t have your best interest at heart. But this possessiveness comes with fiery passion. When things are good, they’re intoxicating, and Valeria makes sure you feel adored and desired.

- The moment Valeria proposed, she promised you the most perfect wedding, and you know she means it. She’s already planning every detail, from the venue to the security. She’ll make sure your big day is flawless, not just because it’s what you deserve, but because she wants the world to see that even in her dark, dangerous life, she’s capable of creating something beautiful with you.

- Being Valeria’s fiancée means living in the shadow of her empire. While she protects and loves you fiercely, her world of violence and crime will always be a part of your life. There’s no escaping the darkness she’s built, and while she’ll shield you from its worst aspects, you’ll always feel the weight of it hanging over your relationship.

[almondmilktargaryen]

The Girl Who's Got Agoraphobia (Part Three)

*pictures not mine. layout made via canva

Summary: You're the girl with agoraphobia Michael told Oliver about. You're known for not leaving your room much (obviously). But that doesn't stop Michael from checking on you.

Couple: Fem!Reader/Michael Gavey

Category: Flangst, friends to lovers

Word count: 1.7k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

N.F.I., Me and You

There was a college Christmas party tonight. You and Michael heard about it. No one told you, of course. You just overheard it from people who didn’t know you were listening. They didn’t invite you. That was a given. When you asked Michael if he was upset about not getting an invitation, he responded (oh-so maturely) by blowing raspberries. Not in your face, though. He’s not an animal.

You quickly learned that not being invited to a college party (of any kind, because you weren’t invited to any of them) had a bright side - the library was all for you. Completely vacant. Quiet and vacant. Your go-to spots are in the back, where shelves wall you in and gawkers can’t peer in through the windows and interrupt your flow. No one does that, but it can feel that way. There was no need to look over your shoulder here. There was no open space for a person to exist. Only books and just enough room to scoot out of your chair. The air smelled faintly of dust and old paper, a comforting scent that always made you feel at ease. The yellow lights in the ceiling cast a soft, steady hum, adding to the peaceful silence.

Most people who show up to the library treat the place like it’s social hour, gathering around tables to chat shit, drown in coffee (that they weren’t supposed to have inside), and not touch a single book. Which is another reason you choose this location every time; no one finds this area entertaining for long. You wouldn’t be surprised if only a few people knew about its existence.

And speaking of only a few people, Michael emerged between the bookshelves, peeking from the side like he was going to scare you.

Well, he did scare you. Startle is a better word for it. You jerked in your seat at the sight of him in your peripheral. The look of instant regret played on his face; wide eyes and a gaped mouth. He apologized with a frantic, “Sorry, sorry!”

You laughed in spite of it. “If you wanted to kill me, then just say it, Michael.”

He snickered at you. “I knew you’d be here. And I wanted to see you.”

Then you looked down at what he was holding. Not books, as expected.

Michael’s eyes darted from the table to you. “Here, I brought you something.” He set the mugs down (a decaf Americano for him, a white macchiato for you). The thud of ceramic against lacquered wood echoed in the quiet, similar to the thud of your heart against your ribs, only on repeat. The rich aroma of coffee wafted up, mingling with the scent of the old books, creating an oddly comforting blend.

You were stunned by it. Not just because of the gesture (it was such a sweet gesture), but because of the obvious. “Michael,” you said to him, “you know the rules.”

“I do.” He smirked, then took the seat across from you, adjusting his glasses.

“Then why’d you bring open drinks from the shop?”

“Because no one stopped me.”

“If we get caught, then we’ll get in trouble.” The anxiety alone of getting into trouble was enough to make your leg bounce. Yet you tried to swallow down the fear. Your throat was already so dry from the winter weather, and you could already feel a sweat percolating under your collar.

“No. They like you too much. Because you don’t do anything.”

That was true, at least. You didn’t know if they necessarily liked you, but for someone who doesn’t leave the dorms much, you’re at least recognizable considering that they smile when you visit.

Michael pushed your macchiato toward you, and you worried it would spill. You pondered, looking at the coffee, then back up to Michael as if he were making you choose between the red or blue pill. The macchiato beckoned you in anyway, so you lifted it to your lips like there was no turning back. It soothed your throat from the winter air. “Thank you.” You pulled a napkin from your blazer pocket to wipe the froth off your mouth. Michael didn’t pick up on how deep your breaths were (because he wasn’t looking at you. He was poking around in his satchel). It was difficult to capture a good amount of air to fill your lungs and rid them of the lingering anxiety. The sip of caffeine you just took was definitely not going to help, but at least it was delicious.

“Also, I wanted to give this back to you.” He held up a collection of Kate Chopin’s short stories. He extended his arm across the table for you to take it.

You did and quickly flipped through the book before putting it in your bag. He completed reading The Awakening a week after he began and was delayed in cracking open her short stories. “So, what did you think?”

“I see why you like ‘A Story of an Hour’ so much. Very much your style of humor.”

At least this time at the end, the woman dying had a funny layer to it; seeing her husband actually not dead from a reported accident made her “die of joy” when she, once again, was happy to not be married anymore.

He picked up his Americano. “I definitely see the pattern you’re talking about. With the marriage part. But it makes sense why it would be so consistent. Given the time and all.”

“Yeah.” You nodded as you said it. Despite your hesitation, you still reached out to take another drink. You could already feel the caffeine coursing. As you tried to steady your breath, you scanned your notes again. You could feel Michael’s eyes on you, and you were afraid he was noticing. “How’s Oliver?”

Michael sighed. “Dunno. I’ve seen him staring a lot at Felix Catton and his group of fucking losers. He’s been acting differently.”

“Really? You think they’re friends?”

“Michael shrugged, his arms still flat on the table. “Not sure. I’ve never seen them together. He still doesn’t talk much, so not the same on the charisma scale.”

Maybe he has a crush on him. Has he talked about him?” You asked slowly, as you swallowed.

“Not around me. He didn’t know about the party either.”

“Hm,” you simply said. Your fingers twitched as the energy reached the ends of your feet. You swore you heard footsteps somewhere between the shelves where Michael came in. You were almost convinced that someone would catch you, clenching your teeth as you prepared for inevitable embarrassment.

Michael leaned back in his chair, looking down the aisle. “No one’s there.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I think someone was just walking by. No big deal.”

“Okay.” Your exhale was slow before picking your pen back up. You lost track of where you were in your rewrites. People like Felix and Venitia Catton and their peers may be more popular, drunk, and social than you’ll ever be, but their grades matter by the end of the semester. At least one of them always needs notes for classes they didn’t attend, especially if they need to retake the class. They’re just as vain, so aesthetically pleasing notes will sell more. You searched through, trying to find where you left off. But your leg bounced once more, the small heel of your shoe growing obnoxious.

“Still nervous?”

You nodded as you searched, finding where you left off and trying to concentrate on your handwriting; being slow and methodical to keep it as neat as a font.

“You can dare to take risks now and then, you know. It’s not always going to turn out as bad as you think.” His tone was earnest as he leaned forward slightly.

But you gripped your pen to instinct, pausing as your stare turned hard, finding Michael in your crosshairs.

He rested his head on the table. His lips disappeared into his mouth briefly as he started to put together that he may have fucked up. “What?”

Okay, maybe not.

“You know it’s not that simple for me. You, of all people, should know that it’s not that simple, Michael.”

“Phobias are irrational. They feed on an extreme lack of logic.” He said it with a mix of defense in his argument. It was as if this was something up for debate.

“I understand how phobias work, Michael. Like you, I am a student at Oxford University. I may not be a genius like you, but I understand my phobia from years of my research and experience.”

Michael picked his head back up. Perhaps the growing heat from your anger started brushing against him. “I just…” his back hit the chair and his posture sank. “I’d rather not see you miss out on four years of Oxford University.”

“My time at Oxford University is for education. Just like yours.”

“You know what I mean.” He blinks as his glasses slide down his nose.

“Do I?”

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He leaned forward, reaching a hand out. He was literally trying to bridge the gap. Any other time, you would’ve taken it.

“You can’t control that.”

“But you can control cows?” The hand was gone, and his tone turned sharp as his words sliced through the library's quiet. “You deserve a break from the academic side of all this. Like everyone else.”

“You think the outside world is a break for me?”

“Well, not exactly but—”

You snapped your notebooks closed and stood to put on your overcoat. “I need to go.” You struggled to keep your voice steady, mapping out the typical path from the library to your dorm.

“Wait, don’t.” He reached out, but you gave him nothing.

You didn’t respond or even look at him. The Christmas party was likely still happening, given it was only seven in the evening. You hoped Michael wouldn’t get up. You hoped he’d let you leave. He knew you didn’t like feeling trapped, but he didn’t seem to know (or care) as much as you thought he did.

You were mindful as you walked between the shelves, conscious of the bookbag you held against your hip and making sure it didn’t knock any books to the floor. The trickle of tears lined your eyes and burned as you tried to hold them back. The library's warmth, once comforting, now felt suffocating, and you longed for the crisp air outside.

Taglist: @anukulee

[evanpeterspeter]

Warren Lipka - part 2

Part 1 here💗

AN: kinda gotta leave y’all on a slight cliffhanger, my lovely pookies. 😼🫶

TW: yelling, slight abuse? Violence, M receiving and F receving, and just some smut ig.

Wc: 2.7k

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It's been about a week now, you and Warren have been getting closer together. Such as in gaming together, smoking and having deep conversations together and low-key flirting with each other. Today was the day Spencer comes back from his trip and Spencer seems more excited than usual. The keys jingle on the lock from outside, unlocking the door for Spencer to come in. Warren is in his usual spot and is playing video games, and you were in the bedroom studying on your next assignment. Spencer dropped his things by the door, shedding off his shoes and coat. "Hey, Warren." Spencer said in such an emphatic tone. Warren raised a brow, not looking away from the flashing screen. "Hey? How was your trip nerd?" He said to Spencer, not taking an eye off his game. "It was good, I'm finally gonna do it man." He said as he smiled to himself. "Uh huh." Warren said mindlessly, not paying attention.

Spencer walked over to your door. He stood there, heart racing, his breath in a hitch and his hand in a fist against the faded wooden door. He took a deep breath in and knocked. "Come in." You projected from the other side. He took a deep breath and opened the door. He saw you sitting with one knee propped up towards the ceiling and you sitting with your left leg underneath the right propped leg. You look up at Spencer with a soft smile and tilted your head. "How was your trip dude?" He smiled from your warm welcome and sat on the bed next to you. His hands were in between his knees, squeezing them together. "It was great! Met new people and old family." He looked up at you with glistening eyes. "I saw that asshole cousin of mine, Gabe." You gasp and chuckle. "Ew! Really?! What a weirdo!" You said shaking your head. Spencer admired how your smile created soft creases in your cheeks and how whenever you laugh, you tuck that one side of hair behind your ear. "Y-y/n?" He said skittishly, playing with his fingers. "Yes, Spencer?" You said in a sweet tone. "I-.." he clears his throat. "D-did you want to go get some coffee with me tomorrow?" You tilt you head, slightly puzzled. "Spencer, we always get coffee together. What's different about it this time?" He rubs the back of his neck looking down. "Well..I-I was thinking maybe we could go out on a-.. on a date?" He cringed with his last words. Your eyes widened and you felt your gut drop. you felt frozen. You never saw him romantically and it was such bad timing, especially since you've slept with his best friend. You looked over and he turns his head facing you, looking for a response. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to figure out what to say. "Please?.." Spencer pleaded. You felt pressured and nodded in fear of hurting him. He smiles big and stands up clasping his hands together. "It's a date!" He smiled and left the room, closing the door behind him. You stare at the door, utterly stunned at what happened and you get this overwhelming feeling of dread hit. You loved Spencer, but not like that. You saw him as your grooms-maid, not your groom. You gather your books and plop them onto the cold wooden floors. You cover yourself in your sheets, hiding from this confusing world.

~

You got up and got ready for the day. You wore a soft silk black skirt, a fancy patterned tights that kind of like fishnets, a torn tight fitting Led Zeppelin shirt and some beat up black boots. You put on your accessories, and then grabbed your bag. Spencer stands by the front door, opening it for you. You look over seeing Warren still sleeping. You felt your heart ache, as if you were cheating on him, even though you aren't even dating. You look back up at Spencer and he had a huge grin plastered across his face.

You guys arrived at the Cafe place, Spencer opened the car door for you, reaching his hand out for you to grab. You sheepishly extended your hand and he guided you out the vehicle, shutting the door and walking you to the cafe door. As you and Spencer walked it you were hit with the warm smell of freshly grounded coffee and the sweet smell of glazed treats that sit pretty in the glass windows by the front counter. You've always loved cafes and especially with your dad growing up. The thought made you feel some slight sense of comfort, but the thought of being here for romantic reasons with your best friend made you feel so uneasy.

"Y-you look beautiful today, Y/n." Spencer choked out nervously. You reddened at the comment and gave a shed a small meek smile. "T-thanks, Spencer." He walks to counter with your hand still in tangled with his, and he spoke to the barista. "H-hi! Can I get a large hot coffee with 4 creams and no sugar." He turned to you with a soft smile, then to look back at the barista. "And she'll have a large iced vanilla coffee with whip cream on top and caramel drizzle." You smiled sincerely as he always remembered your favorite coffee.

You and Spencer find a seat outside, he pulled the chair out for you and himself. The sun shined bright, making all your features shine just as bright as the sun. You saw Spencer's face turn to a bright pink, feeling rather flushed from your beautiful features.

You and Spencer talked for what seemed like hours, he scooted closer you. You had your hands clasped together on the fake wooded cafe table. Spencer dug your hand out from in between and held it, intercrossing his fingers between yours. You looked at him with your nervous eyes. He continued to speak as if nothing came of it.

Next thing you know, he cupped your face with both hands and pulled you into a sharp kiss. Your eyes widened and you Immediately pushed away gasping. Spencer jumps back being startled. You wiped your lips and shook your head. "I-im sorry Spencer. I just.. I panicked. I'm sorry..." you looked at him. He rubs the back of his neck, extremely embarrassed. "M-maybe we should get back to the apartment." You nodded eagerly and stood up gripping to your purse close to your body.

The ride back was very quiet and the tension was tight. Once we arrived at the apartment, he unlocked the door. "Y-Y/n.. you can head in. I have to-.. I mean.. I'm gonna stop by the university to uh..study...if that's okay with you.." you nodded while holding the handle to the door eagerly waiting to leave. "Y-yeah of course! Uhm...yeah..just let me know if you need anything." You said giving a pressured smile. You fled out the car, trying to scurry in from the sharp cold that ate though your skirt. Spencer promptly drove off and you unlocked the front door.

As you walked in you noticed Warren eating some sort of concoction of a panini sandwich with Mac and cheese inside of it. You took notice of the box it was sitting in.. 'is that from the cafe Spencer and I went to?' You thought to yourself. "Hey, Warren." He didn't even look up at you, taking a bite out of whatever the hell he was eating. "Warren?" You said while putting your purse on the counter. "Hello?" You said but more stern. "Warren.." you said walking to him. You tapped his shoulder and he smacked your hand away. "What the fuck,Warren?!" You said stepping back. "What's your fucking problem?" He plopped his food on the small end table in front of him, standing up abruptly facing you with an irate expression. You step back looking up at him, feeling anxious but mad. "What's YOUR problem." He said while poking you chest harshly. You push him away hard. "Why are you being a fucking dick?! I did nothing wrong!" He steps forward, poking you again but harder. The kind of poke that'll leave a bruise. "Maybe if you weren't such a fucking whore I wouldn't have a problem!" Your brows furrowed and you push him harder. "Why would you call me that?!" "Because you're just kissing anyone and everyone." You shook your head. "What are you talking about?!" "I saw you and Spencer kissing and holding hands like as if you were about to have sex on the fucking table!" Your eyes widened and you step back shaking your head. "I didn't want that! I don't even like him like that! And for your information HE kissed ME! Why is it even a problem anyways? Am I not allowed to go out with a man? We're not even dating!" You pushed him one last time, that being the last straw that broke the camels back. Warren wrapped his hand around your neck, slamming you against the wall with his other hand behind your head to prevent your head from harshly hitting the wall. You look into each other's eyes, yours welling up into tears, feeling scared but also feeling a slight sensation of euphoria. His body was pressed against yours. A single tear falls down your cheek. Warren lets go of your neck and cups your delicate face and looks at both of your beautiful glistening eyes. His eyes well up too, becoming red in the face he pulls you to a tight hug hiding his face in the small curvature of your neck. "I-Im so sorry Y/n. I would never hurt you. I don't know what got into me."

You cradled his head closer and leaned your head on top of his, planting a soft kiss on top. He gently dropped his hands to the side of your waist to pull you closer. You felt a slight tingle in your lower belly, as you felt his member against your lower stomach. Your breathing hitched because you felt him grow against you. He lifted his head up, looking at you with a slight of swollen red eyes. It wasn't the high kind of red eyes, it was the pain in your heart swollen eyes. You felt that pain, the way he looked at you with puppy eyes, his soft but strained breathing, the way his hair fell in front of his face. You tucked a small bunch of his hair and tucked it behind his ear, rubbing his stubbled cheek you leaned into a gentle kiss.

You and Warren locked lips. You palm your hand against his hard cock, gently massaging it. He lets off breathy silent moans in between kisses. You pull away looking into his dark eager eyes and you slowly slide down the wall to get to your knees. Warren looked at you with confusion but immediately it clicked. As you got onto you knelt down below him, you grabbed his gray sweatpants by the elastic band, pulling it down, as his cock sprung up free from being contained in such gray cotton. You wrapped your gentle, soft hand around his firm base. You slowly pump him up and down, leaning forward to press soft kisses on his tender, pink head. Warren grabbed your hair, pulling it to a messy pony and wrapped his hand around the bunch. You began to kitten lick his sensitive tip. He let out a deep groan, looking down at you, you looked up at him, you fluttered your long lashes with big doe eyes. He was flushed by the way you looked up at him. You decided to take him into your mouth, It was warm and soft.

"F-fuck.." He said closing his eyes in pleasure. "You're doing such a great job.." the small praise made you even more wet. You took him all the way down to the base until your nose was nuzzled into the small tuff of hair. It had a slight scent of fresh laundry, most likely from his sweat pants. He looked back down, impressed with how much you took of him in your cute petit mouth. "That's my good girl.." he said in a velvety tone with a slight smirk. You bobbed your head back and forth with more passion. You pulled off with a pop and used your right hand to jerk him fast. "Aren't you my little princess, doing such a good job." the way he praised you made you squeeze your thighs together, to contain the pulses in your wet bundle. You take him back into your mouth and sucked him off. He used his free hand to caress your hollowed out cheeks. He bucked his hip in and out your mouth, using your hair to face fuck you. You had drool and precum seeping through your lips, onto your chin. "Fuck I'm going to cum baby.." you pulled off, pumping him fast and you opened your mouth, resting his tip on your tongue, while looking up at him. Warren cums all in your mouth, as all the salty cum and saliva roll off your tongue and onto your chin, neck and shirt. Warren let out a mouthful of profanities as his high was slowly fading.

Warren looked down at you with a weak smile and helped you up from your knees. "Wow, my girl made such a mess. I bet she also made such a mess somewhere else." He slid his way into your sheer panties and dipped his fingers in between your folds and collected your slick, lifting it up to his lip and sucking it off. "Mmm..you're so wet.." he smirked. He lifted you and laid you down on the counter top, spreading your legs open. He leaned forward wiping your face and chin with whatever rag was near by. Warren had moved your pantie bottom to the side of your lips and he bent forward licking a strip up your soaked cunt. You let out a mewl and arched your back. "Mmmm.." you let out loud. Warren chuckled and went back down to flick your clit with his tongue. He sucked his right middle finger and pointer finger, sliding them into your entrance, curving them up against your plump walls. You let out some whimpers and grabbed the back of Warrens hair. You grind against his tongue and he finger fucks you. "F-fuck, Warren...mmmm."

"What the fuck?!"

You sprung up looking at the front door. There standing, Spencer with flowers and a bag of groceries, that seemed to be all my favorite comfort foods. Your eyes were wide and mouth agape. "Spencer!..I-I  can explain!" You shouted while putting your skirt down. Spencer threw everything onto the floor and walked up to Warren. Warren stood up and faced him as he was hit in the face with Spencer's fist. "Agh!" Spencer shouted as he flicked his hand in pain from the blow of his fist against his best friend's face. "F-Fuck you, Warren! You k-knew I loved her!" He weeped, as his face was tomato red and wet full of tears. "A-and fuck you too Y/n! You're not my friend anymore! I hate you! And you know what? Warren I want you out of this fucking apartment tonight!" He turned around, stepping on the flowers and stormed out the door.

You immediately hopped off the counter and went to Warrens aid. "Warren..I'm so sorry.. oh my god.." you held his bloody face as he winced at your action, causing him pain. "I'm okay, Y/n, I'm fine.."

"No, Warren you're not. Your nose is bleeding." You went into the kitchen to collect some paper towels and you came back, placing it to his face. He took it from you and walked to the living room, aka his living area, and grabbed his duffel bag, packing things up.

"W-Warren you're not actually leaving..right?.." you said with a half broken heart. He continued to pack in silence. "Please, Warren don't leave..I don't want you to leave.." he paused but then went back to packing. "W-well..I also signed the lease..so it's also my apartment too..he can't just kick you out! I have say so too!" You shouted in frustration. All though, Warren continued to pack.

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Taglist: @evansonlylove @xrag-dollx @warrenlipkaswife @jazzberrysblog