#during a series it's like 'okay fine it's just TV again'

[okami-zero]

Fun. Just got an "update" about Amazon Prieme Video - we're gonna have COMMERCIALS AGAIN!

"OH, but don't worry," says they, "for an extra 2.99 a month, you can go ad-free!"

You late capitalist, money-grabbing, make-Smaug-look-like-a-starving-college-student shittheels fuckwits, WHY DO YOU THINK I PAID FOR PRIME IN THE FIRST PLACE??? (A couple reasons, actually, but the benefit of streaming services was lack of ads.)

Fucking lords and ladies, the fucking pandemic broke something in their already fucked up brains, and now because numbers aren't hitting that point anymore, they've got their k ickers in a twist because they think the fucking sky is falling, jeebus h fucking crimbo... -_-

And why did my phone change "fucking sky" to "family sly"??

[pedrospatch]

strawberry

Daddy Dom! Joel Miller x Sub! Female Reader

summary: You feel ashamed for using your safe word with Joel during a session—he assures you you’re his good girl no matter what.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (TW) daddy kink, lots of dd/lg lifestyle elements, reader is collared (day collar) age gap that is self indulgent, reader is mid to late 20’s and Joel is in his 50’s but tweak that to your imaginations if you like. SMUT; p in v sex, rough sex (that reader asks to try), spanking, possible overstimulation (if you squint??) Joel basically fucks reader too much and too hard. USE OF SAFE WORD. aftercare and lots of fluff, references to a pop culture film that i haven’t seen in forever but it’s fine. PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF TAGS AND WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, no worries just scroll on by.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is totally self indulgent, all for me as someone who has dabbled in the lifestyle before. if this is not your thing, no problem at all but kindly keep any negative comments to yourself. huge shoutout to the lovely @swiftispunk for inspiring this with the snippets of her own upcoming series that i am oh so excited for, darling han thank you for not only inspiring this, but for listening to me talk about it and encouraging it! and also to sweet mya @cavillscurls because truth be told her own fic brought back so many memories of a time in my life where i was genuinely so happy, in love, and felt safe with a partner. okay, i am gonna run away to the gym now to listen to 1989 tv (again) and pretend posting this is not nerve wracking as hell.

He’s fucked you plenty of times before.

But never like this. No, never, ever like this.

He’s relentless.

His thrusts are coming quicker, sloppier, harsher.

It doesn’t hurt, but it’s intense. Too intense.

Joel Miller is truly testing your limits tonight.

No, he was pushing you past your limits.

Because that’s what you’d asked him to do.

“Alright, sweet girl. This is the last time I’m gonna ask you before we get started. Are you absolutely, one hundred—no, one thousand percent sure that you wanna try this out tonight?” he had asked you beforehand, skimming the strap of your light pink, lace lingerie with his index finger, his feathery soft touch sending a plesant little chill down the length of your spinal column. Of all the sets you owned, it had to be Joel’s absolute favorite. Normally, it was him who would pick out what you would wear, but tonight he’d decided to let you choose for yourself and oh, you did not disappoint. He fucking adored you in the color pink; loved how sickeningly sweet, precious, and innocent you appeared in the hue as you did the filthiest things to him, with him. When you nodded eagerly in reply to his question, a sigh fell from his lips, the doubt written all over his face as he remarked, “I really don’t think you’re ready. I think we should wait just a little a while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you’d insisted, stubbornly. “I promise. I wouldn’t be asking for it if I thought I wasn’t. But I am, I promise, promise, promise I am.”

“Daddy knows what’s best for you, sweetheart—”

Fingers curled around his bicep, you’d batted your eyelashes, giving him those eyes that brought him down to his knees for you a lot more often than he cared to admit, those eyes that made Joel feel like he was learning his role all over again, despite over two decades of experience under his belt. He used to pride himself for his ability to stand firm against pouting lips, fluttering lashes, and pleading gazes. And then you come along and suddenly it’s like he is in his thirties again and he’s navigating this kind of dynamic for the first time. Even after a year and a half with you, he’s still trying to figure out how to completely unwrap himself from your little finger.

“Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Christ, you made things so goddamn difficult.

“You really think you’re gonna be able to handle it? You think you’re gonna be able to handle me when I get real rough with you, baby? Hm?”

Without missing a beat, you replied, “Yes, Daddy. I can handle it. I know I can.”

You had been so certain that you could.

Confident, even. So confident that when he began going over the rules and reminded you to use your safe word if you needed him to stop, you’d giggled and stated, “I’ve never needed to use it before and I don’t plan on using it tonight.”

Oh, how very wrong you had been about it all.

You’d overestimated yourself, and underestimated Joel. Severely.

His hips snap roughly into yours without an ounce of mercy, over and over, again and again. Beads of perspiration start trailing their way down the sides of his face, the tip of his nose. His chest is flushed, red, and also slicked with a thin sheen of sweat.

You’ve already shattered, unraveled, come undone all over his cock several times—every time with his granted permission, of course. Because you knew better than to come without Daddy’s permission.

Your cunt is swollen, sensitive, too sensitive and at a point where it could start aching if he doesn’t let up soon. However, it seems like Joel’s only getting rougher and rougher as he chases another release.

“Joel—Daddy,” you manage to correct yourself at the very last second through a slew of frantic little gasps for air. “Daddy, please! Daddy please—”

His large hand tightens around both of your wrists pinned to the mattress above your head. Surely he must think you’re begging him for more, when the reality is you’re about to start begging him to stop because it’s just too much and you can’t handle it; but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to stop, the part of you that doesn’t want to disappoint the man who means the whole, entire world to you.

The man you belonged to, the man you loved.

Even through the haze, you try telling yourself that it’s all mind over matter, mind over matter, mind—

“Stop,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I—can’t take it anymore, Daddy, I can’t take it—!”

Releasing your wrists, Joel pulls himself out of you and you breathe out in relief, until he flips you over onto your stomach without warning. You let out an audibly loud gasp when his hands reach down and take your hips, pulling them up off his bed, putting you on your hands and knees. He brings down one of his hands on your ass in a stinging slap. “That is just too bad, ‘cause Daddy ain’t done with you yet, darlin’ girl. Not even close to bein’ done with you.” Wrapping his other hand around his base, he grins to himself as he glides the head of his cock up and down your slick folds. When it grazes your clit, you jerk forward, away from him, and he tuts, bringing you back to him, his fingers digging into the pillow soft flesh of your hips. “Oh no baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“But Daddy, I just can’t—”

You’re cut off by your own cry when you feel Joel’s length stretching your walls all over again. It’s just too much.

And you really, really can’t.

He leans over you and presses his lips to your ear. “You asked for this, didn’tcha? Asked to be fucked like a big girl, huh?” He bucks forward into you, eliciting another strangled cry followed by a string of pathetic whimpers. Bringing his palm down in a second strike, he demands, “Answer me when I’m takin’ to you. You wanted this, said that you could handle Daddy bein’ rough with you, ain’t that right now?”

“Strawberry.” You say the word so quietly, you can hardly hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Joel spanks you for a third time, in the exact same spot—so hard, there was simply no way you would wake up without a mark in the morning. “I need’ya to speak up. You’re such a big girl after all—”

“Strawberry!” You grasp fistfuls of bedsheets and the signal for it all to end tears itself from the back of your throat. “Strawberry, Joel! Strawberry!”

It’s only a millisecond that he freezes, if that.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel curses under his breath, pulling out of you. The bed shifts as he climbs off of it and scrambles to pull on his sweatpants before he’s at your side—you’re still on your hands and knees, an unmistakable look of panic on your face. He puts a gentle hand on your back. “Baby, are you alright?”

Your heart is pounding, your breathing labored but you manage a small, tight nod of your head. ��I-I’m fine. I just—” Stopping, you grip the sheets tighter, warm tears brimming your eyes. Shame over what you’ve just done is already creeping in and sinking into your bones.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”

Joel’s voice is calm, but you can hear the concern that laces his tone.

“No.” Your own voice is small. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Is it alright if I move you?” he asks. When you nod your head, he reaches out for you and helps you to sit on the side of the bed. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he takes your hands and his and feels his stomach sink when he realizes they’re ice cold; he begins rubbing them between his own to warm them up. “Baby if I hurt you, you need to tell m—”

“I promise, you didn’t hurt me,” you reassure him, swallowing the thickness rising in the back of your throat. You clock the skepticism in his dark brown eyes and a tear slips out, rolls down your face, and splatters onto your bare thigh. “I’m not lying, Joel. I swear.” Tugging one of your hands out of his, you reach up and instinctively clasp it around the blue sapphire pendant hanging from the delicate, gold chain around your neck—he’d presented you with his birthstone last year, not only as a symbol of his ownership of you, but also as a beautiful reminder of your commitment to one another. “You believe me, don’t you? You believe I’m telling the truth?”

Joel’s expression softens. “‘Course I do, baby.” He cups the side of your face gently, brushing away a second teardrop with his thumb. “But I’d really like to know what happened so I can figure out how to best help, okay? Can you tell me what happened?”

Embarrassed, you try turning your head away, but he holds your cheek in his hand, gentle but firm.

“S’okay. You can talk to me,” he encourages softly, his gaze meeting yours once again. “Tell me.”

“It was just too much,” you mumble, meekly. “And too intense.” Heat floods your face as you admit to him, “You were right. I just wasn’t—I wasn’t ready for that yet.”

In an effort to lighten your mood, Joel lightly gives your cheek a delicate pinch and chuckles.

“Daddy’s got that real annoyin’ habit of bein’ right ‘bout a lot of things, don’t he?”

“I’m sorry.” Your bottom lip quivers. “I’m so sorry.”

His smile falters. “Sorry for what?”

“For using the safe word—”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Y’know you ain’t supposed to apologize for needin’ to use your safe word, right? That ain’t how it works, darlin’.”

Dropping your necklace, you place your hand over his on your cheek. “But I feel bad,” you confess. “It makes me feel like—like I let you down, you know? And that’s the last thing I want to do. I just wanted to be really good for you.”

“Oh baby.” Joel lifts himself from the floor. He sits on the bed and pulls you onto his lap, brushing his lips against your temple. “You are such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”

“But I couldn’t take it,” you sniff. “I had to stop.”

“And that’s okay,” he assures you. He wraps you in his arms and gives your body a gentle squeeze. “It ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed ‘bout. You’re still really new to a lot of this stuff, y’know? S’why I told you I didn’t think you were ready.”

“I should’ve listened to you.”

He winks. “You should always listen to Daddy.”

You offer him a tiny, watery smile. “I know.”

“And say we try this again one day and it’s just not somethin’ you like or that makes you feel good—or maybe you never wanna try it again at all,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “That’s okay too. You are still my good girl no matter what—my perfect girl. Always. You understand me?”

“Really? You promise?”

Joel holds up his pinky.

“Oh, you’re being really serious,” you tease him.

“Sure as hell am, darlin’.”

You lock your finger around his and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur against his lips. You giggle again when he clears his throat and smacks your ass lightly, playfully. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, baby.” Joel pulls away and touches the tip of his nose to yours. “How’s ‘bout we get in the bath and get all cleaned up? Hm?”

“A bath?” You instantly perk up. “With bubbles?”

“With bubbles. And I’ll even let you throw in one of those smelly ball things you fuckin’ love so much.”

You swat at his chest. “Hey! My bath bombs smell really good, thank you very much!”

Joel doesn’t particularly like emerging from a bath smelling like a petunia, but for you, he’s more than happy to bathe in a sea of them, glitter and all.

You trace his collarbone with your index finger.

“Daddy? After our bath can we just cuddle in bed? Maybe watch a movie?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly, adding, “Please?”

“‘Course. Pick any movie you want, sweetheart.”

“And can we have ice cream while we watch too?”

He pins you with a stern look. “Alright, now you’re just pushin’ it and takin’ advantage.”

You jut your lower lip. “Please, Daddy?”

There’s no arguing with that, not tonight.

Joel decides to let you have your way. “Alright.”

The two of you spend quite some time in the bath; normally a bath together ends with him inside you all over again, but tonight, all he’s doing is running a soapy wash cloth with your favorite shower gel—japanese cherry blossom—all over your body as he sits behind you, lips pressed against your ear. Joel washes you slowly, carefully, and all the while he’s whispering sweet, tender praise.

My good girl.

My perfect girl.

I’m s’proud of you.

I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.

After the bath, once you’re both dried and dressed in comfortable clothes—him in a clean pair of gray sweatpants and you in nothing but his t-shirt, Joel gives you the remote and instructs you to pick out a movie to watch.

“Make yourself real comfortable, baby,” he says to you, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be back with that ice cream.”

You shoot him a hopeful glance. “Strawberry?”

“You tryin’ to be funny with me, darlin’?”

“No! That’s just my favorite flavor, silly.”

Joel grins to himself as he leaves the bedroom.

He knows that. Of course he knows that.

It’s why he always keeps a pint of it in his freezer.

You hop into bed and pull the blankets around you as your scan through the guide for a movie—you’d just decided on The Notebook when Joel appears again, a bowl and two spoons in his hands.

“You picked The Notebook again, didn’t you?” he asks without even looking at the flat screen that’s mounted on his wall over the fireplace.

“You said I could pick any movie I wanted.”

“Was just hopin’ you’d pick one we haven’t seen a thousand times,” he chuckled, sliding into his bed next to you. Joel places the bowl of strawberry ice cream in his lap and hands you a spoon. “C’mere, my sweet girl. Come closer.”

You snuggle up to him, and the two of you dig into the frozen dessert as the movie begins to play.

“Baby?” Joel speaks after a while, just as Allie and Noah share a passionate kiss in the pouring rain.

“Hm?” you ask, your fixed eyes on the flat screen, your mouth full of ice cream.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Swallowing, you look up at Joel, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you answer honestly.

“‘Cause if there’s anythin’ else I can do for you…”

You purse your lips together and let out a tiny hum as you mull it over for a moment.

“You can hold me closer?” you finally suggest.

Joel shifts in his spot. “I can definitely do that—”

You stop him and point to the empty bowl.

“After you go and get us some more ice cream?”

He exhales an amused snort through his nose and shuffles out of bed, taking the bowl with him.

“Don’t get so used to bossin’ Daddy around,” Joel warns you playfully over his shoulder.

“Too late.”

divider credit to @saradika 🍓

[wtfsteveharrington]

c l o s e t o y o u | carmen berzatto x reader

we've got so much history baby

description: set months after your breakup, you and carmen navigate what it means to be separated. you're trying to move on but waves always return to the ocean.

warnings: kinda angsty but also hurt/comfort. mutual pining even tho you're both trying to pretend it isn't there. miscommunication. kinda mentions of cheating if you squint but not really. no one has cheated but what to call this vibe irdk so! also mentions of using the bathroom if that bothers you!! it's quick!

smut warnings: oral/fingering reader receiving, spanking, dirty talk, hints of dom!carmy, unprotected sex but backshots for 'safety', sexting, semi public sex, lots of hickies/bruises talk bc carmy's a lil shit, multiple mentions of masturbation for both, reader has a drunk bar make out phase post breakup. reader is afab but no major descriptors used.

word count: almost 9.2k. the longest thing i've written so far!

a/n: dare i say this might be my favorite thing i've written possibly. aiming to make this a three part series but possibly could go longer.... i hope you enjoy <3

maybe you and i were meant to be / maybe i'm crazy

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen’s eyes are trained on you from the second your front door opens. His hands stalled halfway through taking off his jacket, only one shoe clattering across your entryway. 

“Where’ve you been tonight?” 

Which you have no choice but to shoot him a warning glance in response. It was late, you didn’t have the energy for a fight and that’s the complete opposite reason of why you texted him to come over. “I was on a date, Carmen.” 

He physically deflated at your answer. “Oh.”

You can’t meet his eye, can’t risk seeing his reaction. Would he be upset? Indifferent? It’s hard to decide which would be worse.

When you had broken up a few months ago the roles were clear - A case of ‘right person, wrong time’. He was busy, so endlessly busy. Working late into the night and heading in randomly during the morning or afternoon if he was needed. Which he could easily decide he was.

For as long as you could remember Carmen always took Tuesdays off to spend with you and get life in order. That way he had Monday to help the restaurant recover from the weekend and could trust them to handle what was, usually, an easier day. It was a tradition you took seriously and the two of you regularly made plans together every single Tuesday. Date nights, day trips, a mixture of adventures. It didn't matter what you were doing together so long as you had Tuesday to look forward to and help get you through the week.

Yet things started picking up. More celebrity dining requests, more magazine and tv interviews, more, more, more.

And it wasn’t that you misunderstood how important the restaurant was. Far from it. There were many nights where Carmen would come home a ball of anxiety because it took an hour longer than he anticipated and he knew it wasn’t fair to you. There would be a mess of apologies as he barreled in the door, bracing himself for a fight or to see your disappointed face. All of which you happily soothed by repeating constant mantras - The restaurant was his baby; you weren’t upset; take a deep breath; we’re okay. 

Then eventually you stopped saying you weren’t upset, stopped saying you two were okay. Eventually you stopped waiting up for him at all. At first Carmen would shower and climb into bed, confused if he should attempt to hold you or not. Your sleeping (Fine, sometimes you faked being asleep too) frame with your back turned to him. The blankets pulled tight around your body acting like a shield. 

Finally he just started sleeping on the couch. 

So yeah, the fall apart came quick. It was an avalanche neither of you could control nor did either of you want. There was still love between the two of you - But again it’s the right person, wrong time. 

You avoided each other for the following weeks. Carmen threw himself even more into work and you took a week of PTO to go visit one of your friends. He wondered if you were safe, you wondered why none of the people in the bar tasted the way he did. Your friend encouraged you with every sloppy make out conquest but it always ended there. You wanted to get Carmen out of your mind but weren’t ready for him to not be the last person who fully touched you. 

It didn’t work but does it ever?

Carmen watched your Insta far more than he should have. Risking way too many glances down at his phone during his free time to see if there were any updates about how you were doing. As if you’d post photos with long captions that mimicked a therapy session but he didn’t know where else to go. Sydney would report back what your story shows no matter how much Carm insisted he didn’t care. 

Because he didn’t, okay? He was fine. He knew it was for the best. Right? 

And then you posted a photo of yourself in a low cut top laughing in a bookstore. He zoomed in to see what titles you had in your arms as if they were clues and his eyes definitely didn’t linger on the swell of your cleavage. He didn’t think about how many nights he took for granted watching as your back arched up under him and you begged for more. He didn’t think about the way you’d crawl into bed at night and his mind would instantly rid itself of anything but you. He didn’t jack off to memories of you in the shower every morning because thinking about someone else, watching porn of other people, it didn’t feel wrong. No, that wasn’t the case at all. 

You, on the other hand, turned on Google alerts for anything relating to The Bear or Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto. Most of it was just good Yelp! ratings or fluff pieces from the local papers. He wasn’t one for posting on social media, in fact you weren’t sure he used it at all but you still posted like he was, but sometimes you’d find yourself scrolling through Sydney’s feed to see if she was giving you any crumbs. Sometimes, if you were really desperate, you’d find yourself in Richie’s feed even. It was pathetic but you can’t help it. 

One late night you came across an Instagram story post Sydney had up. Carmen leaning against a pinball machine at some gaming bar downtown. His hair was pushed back, eyes crinkled up with laughter. He looked at ease, peaceful. You wondered if anyone there felt the same… Was someone whispering to their friends and trying to build the encouragement up to go talk to him? Would he respond? 

Right, it wasn’t your place to care anymore. Yet you still cried yourself to sleep and yearned for when things felt so much easier. 

Yeah, the breakup wasn’t exactly going well. 

A few weeks ago you came across Carmen at the grocery store of all places. Both of you had gotten so used to doing the shopping Tuesday mornings and, logically, you were both comfortable going to the location just like you had been weekly for months. Your breath caught in your throat and God he looked better than you remembered. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Great sale on gouda this week.” And the only thing your brain could conjure up was, “Well that’s gouda.”

You both stayed silent for a moment before bursting out in laughter. 

Laughter turned to getting lunch around the corner. 

Lunch turned into you straddling Carmen’s waist in the car while parked in the very back corner of the parking lot and riding him until your eyes watered and you couldn’t focus long enough to keep a rhythm. He wrapped his arms, such strong arms, around your waist and fucked up into you for all that he was worth. Trying to prove himself in whatever capacity you allowed. 

If he couldn’t love you like he wanted, he could at least fuck you better than anyone else would.

Once you two broke the seal of seeing each other it was hard to stop. There was almost a forbidden aspect to your relationship now that caused a small thrill to run down your spine every time you saw him late at night. You were pretty sure no one knew you started… Seeing each other again and you were both content keeping it a secret. 

So that’s how you ended up here. Standing across from him at 11 o’clock at night on a random Wednesday. You try not to wonder if he left ‘early’ the second you reached out, instead convincing yourself that it just so happened to work out he was ready to go within minutes of you sending your ‘My place tonight?’ text during this horrific blind date your co-worker set up. 

Jonathan, 6’1, finance major turned CPA for his family’s company. He was… Fine. Just fine. You left on good terms in case you wanted to call on him for back up one lonely night. The problem was no one else was Carmen no matter how hard you tried to look for him in the people that passed by.

And there he stood across from you with hair falling into his face and his eyes looking up at you like you’re crafted from Heaven. A skirt, thin tinted tights, a shirt that exposed just enough skin but not too much. The soft shimmer across your eyelids and glossy lips from the lip balm you’ve been continuously applying since you knew he was on the way. The last time he saw you like this was when you were fighting because Carmen accidentally showed up 15 minutes past when you were supposed to leave for a birthday party at your friend’s house and that night ended with you locking him out of the bedroom while he had to pretend he couldn’t hear you crying in the next room. He really didn’t mean to be late. Sometimes the nights just got taken away from him. 

Carmen hated that you were dressed up for someone else but he pretends you just threw this on for him.

Your arms cross your chest, totally not attempting to push up your breasts, and you let out a sigh while you stare at Carmen. “This has to be the last time.” His face is stoic, a perfect poker face. The last time? Break up or not he couldn’t imagine there being a last time he saw you. Half the time he forgets, still referring to you as his partner while brushing it off and refusing to correct himself. Then there’s times where he comes home to his empty apartment and realizes you weren’t there to light the long forgotten candles on the coffee table or open up the windows to air the place out. 

He closes the space between the two of you and stares at your face. Searching for answers he’s too scared to ask for. Your resolve is breaking, cracking under the weight of having him so close. Beautiful eyes staring at you, the way he smells like the cologne you bought for your last anniversary and clean laundry. If you weren’t so drunk on the sight of him you would have put it together that Carmen kept clean clothes at the Bear to make sure he could change before he came to see you. 

You’re both silent for a moment before there’s two hands wrapping around either side of your neck and Carmen’s dragging you two together for a kiss. God, he couldn’t stand the idea of someone else kissing you. Would they even do it right? Do they know the way you moan when he licks into your mouth or the way you always grab ahold of his wrists when he cups your face? Do they know the way you forget to breathe sometimes when you’re lost in it? He’d have to pull back in order to give you a second to gasp in a rush of air. Does whoever you were with tonight know any of that? 

You pull away from Carmen with a broken out moan, silva connecting your mouths and the faint taste of cigarettes on your tongue from him. Clamping your hands on his shoulders you just faintly push the two of you apart, trying desperately to collect your thoughts. Carmen crying during the break up, sobbing in your bed, living on autopilot for weeks, the way he kisses you like he’s scared it’s the last time anymore because it very well just might be. Everything coming back to you in flashes as he stands before you once again. 

“I called you here for a reason, Carm.” His eyebrow is cocked, eyes flickering down to the bulge in his jeans that started growing the second he kissed you. “Uh - Yeah? Isn’t that what… I thought that’s what we were doing?” Carmen’s leaning in again, letting his lips connect to your neck. Warm kisses being pressed in a path up to just below your ear. “No uh, oh, remember how you let me keep the cast iron?” He hums in response, teeth nipping at your earlobe while broad hands start grabbing at your waist. “Yeah, uh huh, the cast iron skillet.” Fuck the stupid cast iron. He’s much more concerned with hooking fingers in the waistband of your skirt, attempting to pull it down while you’re fighting to stay focused. 

“Well my friends came over the other night and oh Jesus.” He’s licking a strip up your neck now, only half focused on your story. “Carm, please, they were helping me clean up and someone left it soaking in hot water overnight.” That’s finally got him freezing in place, his aroused little sounds quickly turning into a groan of annoyance. “Fuck. That ruined-… I mean, the seasoning has to be ruined. Assuming it rusted?” You nod helpless, fingers dragging along his chest while Carmen stares over your shoulder.

His eye twitches involuntarily. 

There’s a deep sigh coming from his body as he steps around you, finally kicking off his long forgotten second shoe before walking further into the apartment to head towards the kitchen. 

And listen, it wasn’t that you were necessarily concerned so much with the pan. Sure the two of you had purchased it together during the first few weeks of talking. Carmen cooked breakfast with it every Tuesday morning and showed you how to care for this damn pan. It was the closest you two came to owning a pet just… In the form of a nine inch cast iron skillet. You were more curious if he would care. A simple way of testing the waters to see if he just cared about getting laid or still cared about you. The answer should have been obvious but you still had to know.

You follow behind him and wince at the stream of expletives that easily fall from his tongue at the sight of the pan in the sink. It wasn’t horrible but wasn’t ideal. “Y’know, crazy thing is I’m pretty sure I can guess who did this. They kept trying to convince me cast iron wasn’t any different from a standard pan no matter how many times I tried convincing them that just wasn’t the case.” He’s grumbling to himself while crouching down to fish out supplies from under the sink, easily navigating your apartment from memory. The two of you had bounced between your places and talked about moving in together once his lease was up. Going as far as touring a few locations but the conversation was long forgotten once the tensions started building. 

As much as Carmen claims he didn’t see it coming, he resigned his lease almost two weeks before the break up officially happened. 

You hop up onto the counter next to the sink and watch as Carmen gets to work restoring your pan. “Think it's gonna make it through? I can't believe this is how it might end for the poor thing. All because I wanted to make your chicken piccata.” A few of his recipes had stuck with you and sometimes you find yourself making them when you’re missing him extra at night. 

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Just some surface damage s’all.” You watch as the muscles in Carmen’s arm move with the scrubbing motion, your lips itching to kiss over every exposed tattoo. Snap out of it! This is just sex between two consenting adults trying to let off some steam. That’s all. You’re both just comfortable and it would take way too much effort for someone random like Jonathan to learn what you like. 

Carmen catches you staring at him, not that you were being subtle about it, and feels heat blooming in his chest. He grabs one of your kitchen towels and gives the skillet a good pat down before sitting it upside down to dry off. It’s not perfect, not yet at least, but he’s pretty sure he’ll explode if it takes any longer to finally get his hands on you. 

“You look pretty tonight.” He’s coming to stand between your knees, reaching up to you with the hem of your skirt as you hum out a small “Thank you.” It seems like every time you see him lately you forget just how blue his eyes are. So easy to get lost in them especially from this close. Your hands come up to gently trace the features of his face. Just the ghost of a touch but Carmen’s soaking up the affection. He tilts his head in order to press a kiss to your palm. 

His hands are dragging up your thighs, feeling the material of your tights under his touch. “Know how much you hate wearing these.” Your heartbeat is picking up so much it’s making you jittery, hands wrapping around the edge of the countertop to grip it as hard as you can. Keeping yourself steady. “Help me take ‘em off?” You arch your hips up off the counter as an invitation for Carmen. He’s wasting no time grabbing ahold of the waistband and dragging them down your body, groaning to himself as inch by inch your skin gets exposed to him. 

Neither of you miss the way you press your thighs together once they’re freed, hips twitching in anticipation. The tights are getting tossed across your apartment and left to be tomorrow’s problem. Carmen falls to his knees in front of you, letting them dig into the harsh tile of your kitchen while in pursuit of making his mark on you. He’s grabbing ahold of your ankles, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder while the other is brought up to his lips. 

Your eyes fall closed as Carmen starts trailing a string of delicate kisses along the length of your calf. His lips ghosting across your knee until he reaches the fleshy part of your thigh. While your hands finally escape the countertop and find their way laced into Carmen’s hair, he wraps his lips down against your thigh to start sucking a small bruise into your skin. “Carmy,” You hiss out, “What if I see Jonathan again? How am I gonna explain these?” But you’re not pulling his head away, instead doing quite the opposite by keeping his head in place. 

Carmen practically growls against your skin, a low and guttural sound coming from the man. His grip on you tights while he mumbles against you, “Fuck Jonathan.” You scrub your fingers against his scalp as Carmen finds another patch of skin on the opposite thigh to begin sucking a bruise into. His head ducking lower and lower under your skirt, the material finally getting you to pull your hands away from him.

Against all better judgment your thighs fall more open as he works his way down your thighs. There’s a series of small moans and whimpers coming out of you with no control as he reaches the top of your thigh, his nose dragging along the cloth covering your core. “D’you wear these for him? Or did you put them on knowing you’d end up texting me.” It’s impossible to answer when you feel his tongue drag along you, your hips rocking up towards his mouth. He’s bringing his hands up under your skirt now too and grabbing handfuls of where your thighs meet your hips to hold you down in place. 

“They’re purple, aren’t they?” A color Carmen had long ago decided he liked best on you. Something about the way the color compliments your skin… In all honesty, you were pretty sure he had purchased the exact pair you were wearing. You started the night with no intention of your date getting anywhere near your bed but instead being under the frame of the man who was exactly where you wanted him. 

He guides you to scoot you closer towards the edge of the counter, making sure you’re comfortable before mouthing over you once again. Hot, open mouth kisses being pressed almost exactly where you need them. One of his hands comes around your frame to grab a handful of the fleshy part of your ass while the other hooks a finger into your underwear, pulling the material to the side to expose you. 

There’s cool air being blown against your overheated body and your hands fly back to clutch at his back, his neck, the hair that’s exposed from under your skirt. Whatever inch of him you can find is being clung to like a lifeboat. He’s kissing the skin where your thigh meets your center, lips ghosting along the outer side of your folds. It only takes a few more pathetic whimpers before he finally takes pity on you and you feel his tongue go flat at the base of your hole, dragging up long and slow all the way to your clit. 

He groans into your core and the vibrations make you start to lose your mind. “Fuck. Fuck!” Carmen’s got your clit between his lips now, bobbing his head just slightly while he goes right to sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves. If you didn’t want to be teased then he’d give you everything you wanted. One of his hands comes up under his chin now, a finger pressing into your tight entrance as his tongue works to lap at your clit, your folds, even dipping into you whenever his finger pulls all the way out.

A second finger slides into you while his attention focuses back to making out with your clit. You can’t keep track of the way he alternates between kissing and licking at you while his fingers push in as deep as he can get them. “So good, Baby.” Baby. It comes out of you by force of habit and it makes him twitch in his boxes. If you weren’t so drunk on him you probably would have started overthinking but he’s making sure your focus is on nothing else but his mouth for now. Carmen’s chin is slick with everything you’re giving him as he eats you out as if he’s a dying man and this is his last source of solace in the world.

“C’mon Honey.” He’s cooing against you, fingers crooked just how he knows you like it. There’s sloppy licks being delivered to your clit as his fingers pump in and out. His hand finally leaves it’s grip on your ass to apply a gentle pressure to the top of your mound, pressing down against the flesh to add yet another sensation. “Can feel how tight you’re getting. You wanna come for me so bad, don’t you? Be good for me.” 

Your hands fist around Carmen’s hair, hips rocking up against him and it doesn’t take long for an orgasm to wash over your body. You seize up at the feeling, thighs clamping around Carmen’s head as he licks you through it. He’s only giving you a moment to recover when you feel his fingers slide out of your sensitive body and he can’t help but go back to licking out the mess you’ve made.

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me, Carmen.”

He’s smirking against you but taking the hint. Your thighs shaking as he pulls back from under your skirt, taking a moment to appreciate the handiwork that was the bruises covering your thighs while you take a moment to recover. The way your pussy looks so pretty covered in the mixture of your arousal and his spit. Carmen can’t help himself but to swirl his thumb around your clit, your hips jolting up as you reach out to grab ahold of his wrist. “Need a minute please.” 

Carmen nods and stands up, wasting no time making work of unbuckling his belt. You collect your thoughts well enough to start unbuttoning his jeans for him, letting your fingers linger on his jean clad hardened length. “You, uh -” You won’t meet his eye, opting instead to start pulling his pants down his toned thighs. “You still okay not using a condom?” A roundabout way of saying ‘I’m clean, are you?’. Carmen nods as if it’s the most insane question in the world. Even if he’s not with you anymore, it’s still only you for him for as long as he can see coming. “No one but you.”

You can’t meet his eye, a wave of guilt washing over you concerning your earlier date with Jonanthan that quickly gets pushed away when Carmy grabs ahold of your jaw and brings you in for a haphazard kiss. Mindless, heavenly kissing. The two of you getting lost in the way your tongues know just how to navigate one another while your hand slides into his boxes and begins lazily 

“Gotta fuck you or I’m gonna cum on your hand like a fuckin’ teenager.” You giggle into his mouth but slide yourself off the counter nonetheless. Giving him one more tender kiss before turning around to bend yourself over the counter. It’s not the most gracious process but you’re tugging your shirt over your head on the way down, pitching it somewhere else to deal with later. 

He’s looking at every inch of you. Underwear still pulled to the side, the way the lace of your bra looks against your back. Memorizing every detail he possibly can just in case you wise up and stop letting him come over to defile you like this at night. 

Carmen is dragging the head of his cock through your folds, tapping it against your clit while you whine and rut back against him. The weight of his jeans and belt resting heavy against his ankles and keeping him grounded enough to not spill his load before he even makes it inside of you. You weren’t used to taking him all the time anymore, a thought Carmen can’t dwell on, so he goes inch by inch and gives you time to adjust to the girth of him. He was thicker than anyone you’d been with before and every random hookup together lately reminds you of the first time you felt him stretch you out. 

It burns in the best way possible and he’s so tender while you get adjusted. Waiting until you start fucking yourself against his length to take that as his sign you were finally ready for him. Carmen still starts slow, a teasing pace of pulling himself nearly all the way out before sinking right back in. “Pussy’s like heaven.” It makes you oddly proud to hear him call that out. To know you still have an affect on him after all this time.

“Think about fuckin’ you all the time.” He’s picking up speed now, “Think about how good you feel stretched around me. Such a good slut for me, aren’t you? Bending over and practically begging for it.” His words, once again, make your head spin. It was a common theme with Carmen. Your fingers lace in your own hair, desperate to grab ahold of something. “Always wanting you to fuck me, Carm. Dream about how good you make me feel.” Like you two were meant to fit together perfectly. 

There’s a lewd clapping noise coming from the way your ass smacks against his frame with each deep thrust. Eventually your arms give out, torso falling flat against the shockingly still cool countertop while Carmen fucks into you for all he’s worth. A firm slap is being delivered to your ass that causes you to yelp out, rolling your hips back against him at the same time as an act of encouragement. 

His mind is taken up with how good you feel. You’re perfectly stretched around him and leaking out around his base. So wet, so beautiful, so perfect. There’s a hand sliding up your back until it’s fisting around your hair, gently tugging at it and the new sensation has these pornstar worthy moans escaping you. Your loud and needy brain is completely empty as Carmen destroys you the way he knows how. 

“D’you think about me fucking you while you were sitting across from some asshole all night? Poor little pussy almost got fucked by someone who doesn’t know how to treat it.” His words are so casually spoken with just the right amount of bite that it’s causing your brain to melt. Jonathan didn’t stand a chance of getting within two feet of your panties, just another mindless date in your series of attempted ways to ‘get over Carmen’ which clearly wasn’t going well. He bottoms out in you, every inch of his length pressed as firmly as he can into your core. It’s so much, so full and he’s got you pinned in place. Unable to do anything but be used by him, just how you both know you love to be. “Or did you go just to make me jealous? Put on your slutty little panties and went to dinner knowing you’d text me to come fuck you tonight.” 

He’s grinding his hips into you on the impossible quest to get even deeper. It’s possessive, claiming, and you’d probably even be a little annoyed by his behavior if you were in a better state of mind. For now you’re bent over the counter with bruises blooming all over your thighs and enjoying an odd jealous streak coming from someone who, technically, has no right to be jealous. It’s making you feel dizzy and your heart throb and your pussy clenching around him. “You gonna keep talking or you gonna fuck me, Carm? ‘Cause if not I’ll call him to finish the job.” 

You liked riling him up. 

Another sharp smack is being dealt to your ass when Carmen starts to pick the pace back up. His hands are tight on your hips and his pace is brutal. There’s grunts coming from behind you that are making your head spin and if you were more coherent you’d be a bit more embarrassed about the drool sliding from the corner of your mouth as your boyfrie-….. Well, as Carmen takes care of you. He’s admiring the bloom of his handprint on your skin, brushing his hand along it before pressing firmly down to help soothe the buzzing sting of pain. 

He wasn’t fucking you as often, didn’t have you nearly as well trained anymore. These bi-weekly meetings are not doing nearly enough for your body. He used to be able to fuck you right through an orgasm and you’d keep going. So used to him working your oversensitive clit to his liking. Now you whine while grabbing his wrist and whimper out pleas for him to give you a few minutes. He hates not knowing your body as well as he used to even if he still knows you pretty damn well.

So when he feels you getting closer, he’s taking note. Keeping his pace exactly the same and letting his hand crash down against the tender flesh of your ass again. “You gonna give me another? C’mon, Honey. Can feel how bad you need it.” And you do. God you need every orgasm you’re lucky enough to get from him. 

Your hips buck and twitch and you let out a series of uncontrolled moans as your orgasm starts to wash over your body. If Carmen wasn’t between your legs then your thighs would have snapped shut while your toes curled and your heart started beating faster. You could practically hear it beating in your own ears. “S’good, so good. Thank you, thank you. Shit, thank you.” A mess but you couldn’t judge yourself. 

Carmen’s pulling out when he’s close after just a few more strokes, frantically jerking off his length to keep the sensation going. You’re rolling your hips back and riding out the waves of your own orgasm, glancing back over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Carmen with his head tossed back and brows knitted together in concentration. “Come on me, Baby. Wanna feel every drip on my skin. Maybe I’ll let you take a picture of it dripping down all the pretty bruises you gave me.” 

That’s all it takes for him to come undone. Warm spurts of cum landing along your back, your thighs, some of it dripping down your folds. The feeling is pulling wanton moans from your mouth that send Carmen into orbit. God, he doesn’t want to come back down to Earth. Collecting his breath and trying to keep himself upright while the aftershocks of his orgasm wrack through his body. How was he supposed to stay away from you when it felt like this? Especially when you just kept calling him baby.

He stopped cumming inside of you since the breakup. It made sense, kinda. But you hated it. Felt like a waste even though you wouldn’t overstep and ask for him to go back to finishing inside of you. He would, by the way. Without a second thought he’d bury himself in until he couldn’t go any further and fuck his cum into you as deep as possible. 

You feel a finger swiping up some of his cum off your backside and soon enough it’s pressed to your lips. Without a second thought you take the digit into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it while licking him clean. He wants some of it inside of you one way or another. A subtle way of still putting his claim on you.

The two of you take a moment to recover after Carmen pops his finger out of your mouth. His hands are running a circuit up and down the side of your thighs and torso, still enjoying the view of your body relaxed against the counter in front of him. The tile was starting to become painful as your stomach bent over it but you couldn’t bring yourself to move just yet. You didn’t fully trust your legs to support your weight without the counter for support. 

Carmen’s rustling around behind you now. Reaching down to pull up just his boxes but kick his jeans the rest of the way off finally. He’s not ready for the stimulation of such a heavy material against his sensitive skin yet. There’s a clattering from the sink area as he retrieves another towel to get wet for you and a cup to fill with water. Your eyes feel heavy. Mind’s at ease having Carmen around again, not that you’ll admit it, and your body feeling languid after being fucked so well. 

There’s a glass of water being sat in front of you. “Drink.” So you prop yourself up on your elbows and nurse small sips of the water while the cool rag gets to work wiping down your backside from the mess he made. His fingers ghost along the tender flesh of your ass where he was spanking, “Feeling alright?” You hum into the cup, giving him a small waggle of your behind to reassure any concerns he had. 

He gets you cleaned up in silence, letting the both of you enjoy the simple moment. Carmen always prided himself on taking care of you. There’s warm hands, still damp from cleaning you up, rubbing up the sides of your torso before wrapping around the tops of your shoulders. His hips rub along your backside and you just feel so warm, so safe like this. “We gotta get you to bed.”

You just sigh and scrub your hands over your face. A beat of silence passes while you collect your thoughts. “Carm, I don’t think I can stand up.” Your legs are still slightly shaking and your mind has yet to catch up with your body. 

Laughter’s coming from behind you as he delivers a playful swat to your ass. “C’mon I’ll get you there.” This feels so simple. You find yourself questioning why the two of you even broke up to begin with when the good moments were this good. Easy, content, safe. Would you ever be able to find this again? Would he? 

He’s grabbing ahold of your waist while pulling you back into his chest. Your head falls back against his shoulder and Carmen allows his lips to once again find your exposed neck. A series of gentle kisses being placed as his arms snake tighter around your body. “Still feeling okay?” You let out a content hum and allow yourself to be held by him. “Feel better than I have all week. Thank you, Carm.” You feel him smile against your skin as he places another delicate kiss. “Always.”

The two of you stay intertwined until Carmen starts to encourage the shuffle towards your bedroom. He makes sure you get cleaned up and ready for bed. Brings you one of your sleep shirts while you brush your teeth and tries to not overthink when you offer him a toothbrush of his own because you just so happened to have an extra. Gives you privacy when you complain about needing to pee and you find it odd there’s a tug at your chest when he ducked out of the room. Part of you hated being that couple who left the door open or used the restroom while the other showered, yadda yadda. It was a sign of comfort and the door being pulled shut behind Carmen was a sign that comfort was long gone. 

Not that you cared. Totally didn’t care at all. 

He’s going to just tuck you in at first until you’re clutching at his frame and pulling him into bed next to you. Carmen never could say no when it came to you, especially when he feels his back sinking into your soft bed and your warm body curling up along his side. He should go. Get home before it’s too late and try to get some sleep. He’s already planning on getting to work early to avoid having too much free time to think about tonight in detail. 

But his clothes feel so far away and the long day is starting to finally hit him. You can practically hear him thinking over his options and your breathing starts skipping as you feel him begin to pull away. 

“Carmen.” Your grip on his chest tightens and it pulls directly at his heart. Since this whole… Situation started he never stayed the night when your meetings would run this late. Always picking his clothes up out of piles on the floor and mumbling something about needing to get home to get stuff together from work. You never asked him to stay anyway. Neither of you knew if that would make an already weird and complicated situation even worse. 

But tonight was different. 

There were hints of a storm in the distance you start telling yourself. If you focused you could hear thunder, somewhere, out there and you just wanted Carmen safe for his sake. That’s all. So you pathetically cling to him and hope you don’t kick yourself out of embarrassment in the morning. It takes just a moment of him looking down at you to understand what you can’t say and he’s giving you a little nod in response. His arms wrap around your shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of your head. Kissing every inch of you had to be one of his greatest pleasures in life.

“Remind me to season that skillet in the morning.” 

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen, shockingly, sleeps through the night. The warmth of your body next to him coupled with your excellent sleeping experience. A comfortable bed with good pillows, a white noise machine in the corner of your room (the ice maker in the fridge at Carmy’s would constantly go off so you got used to sleeping with background noise to cover it up), it was the best night of rest he’s had in months.

Your sheets smell like home. 

He’s slowly waking up now and his first thought is how much he misses the weight of your breast in his hand. Second thought is how much he needs to pee but damn your bed is comfortable. 

Carmen allows his body to wake up slowly. Stretching his arms out above his head and letting out a satisfied grunt at the feeling of his well rested muscles. Blinking his eyes awake just enough to take in the sight of all the trinkets and items that covered your space. There’s some things he notices that he knows for a fact he purchased you. Bottles of perfume, books you keep telling yourself you need to read, cups you constantly forget to bring back into the kitchen until you’re fully out of them.

Did you keep any of the pictures? Photo strips from Navy Pier and the holiday market at Wrigley Field. Everything from the disposable camera you brought along on road trips and vacations. The polaroids that once littered a cork board in your living room that the two of you added pictures to so often. If he looked around enough would he find them tucked away safely in a box or did you pitch them when you knew the two of you were through. 

Carmen still has one. You took most of them while you packed up your things from his place and refused to let him carry any of the boxes downstairs. So stubborn, so full of hurt pride. He just spent most of the day trying to stand out of your way but always available in case you finally admitted that you needed help. Maybe a small part of him hoped that as you packed up so many memories it would trigger a ‘What are we doing?’ reaction and you’d go running into his arms. 

You never did. 

But you did take one trip down to your car with an overstuffed Ikea bag over your shoulder and balancing a box on your hip. Carmen knew he didn’t have long, and it kind of felt like stealing, but he rushed over to the box you just started packing up and rifles through the photos as fast as he possibly could. It took a moment of digging before there it was. A polaroid photo someone took of the two of you on New Year’s Eve. You’re wearing some cheesy headband and he has those tacky sunglasses on that show off the incoming year on them. His arms are wrapped low around your waist as he stands behind you, one of your hands resting on top of his while the other is reaching up and back to cup his jaw. You’re both grinning and laughing in the photos and nothing bad has happened yet. 

He hears you shuffling back up the stairs so he’s quickly throwing the box back together after sliding the photo into his pocket and rushing back to stand in the kitchen. Acting like nothing was happening. You didn’t even look over at him so it wasn’t like he had to put up much of a show anway.

It’s still safely tucked into his wallet. 

The sound of the front door opening and hushed whispers are finally pulling him from his half asleep, reflective state. It looks like this day is getting started if he wants it to or not. He’s tilting his head to press it into the pillow underneath him, allowing one last deep inhale to remind himself exactly what your scent smells like before forcing his body to be pushed out of your bed.

Carmen turns the corner in just his boxer briefs and you’re not convinced you aren’t still dreaming because fuck he looks good. His hair’s a mess from the combination of you playing with it all night and him sleeping so well. One of his hands is scratching low on his hips while he takes in the sight of you in the kitchen. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be so comfortable walking around your apartment half dressed still but God is this relationship situation getting messier since the day since the two of you reconnected.

“Ordered some breakfast from Yolk. Figured you were hungry and I’m sure you have to run off this morning but I uh-…. I just wanted to make sure you were fed.” You nod to yourself. Giving him an out as you start popping open food boxes. There was just over an hour until you had to get to work too so there were multiple excuses possible for this morning to end as early as it needed to. 

In an odd, roundabout, time to head back to therapy kind of way it almost feels like you’re dating your ex. 

“Yeah.” He nods to himself and desperately wishes he had deodorant, cologne, fuck even Axe body spray. Something to make himself smell better or feel more presentable for you. “Richie actually tried installing fuckin’ bidets to the toilets last night. Kept on running his mouth about how prestigious they are and he, obviously, doesn’t know how to install bidets. So the bathrooms are a little-“ He waves his hands through the air.

“Shitty?” 

Second questionable pun you’ve made lately. Pull it together. 

There’s a breathy little laugh coming out, “Yeah, shitty.” Carmen’s peeking over your shoulder as you plate up breakfast, sneaking a piece of bacon from under your arm before pressing a kiss to the top of your ear. “Thank you for ordering this.” 

You nod and try to pretend you didn’t stop breathing having him so close to you under the soft morning light. 

He leaves $60 tucked under a vase on your dining table to cover breakfast. 

————

11:52 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Richie put his foot down and we’re stuck getting the bidets 

[DO NOT ANSWER]: If you’re wondering how my day is going 

12:17 pm

Shockingly my day is much less toilet related. I hope it’s going well. 

4:39 pm 

[DO NOT ANSWER]: I know so much about bathrooms now

————

You laugh a little too loud as the alert illuminates your phone. There’s a fond tugging at your heart as the ‘normal’ conversations fills your chat history instead of the short “My place tn” or “I still can’t find my jacket. You have to have it”. Maybe saving him as do not answer seemed too harsh but having his contact show up as a photo of you two cuddled up with the Chicago skyline in the background, an innocent and horrifically cheesy “Baby Boy 💙” contact name modeled after Richie saying you baby him too much one night. Every time it flashed across your screen and Richie saw he gave you guys an endless amount of shit. It became a constant bit that none of you got tired of at the time. 

You were trying to separate yourself from your past with him as much as possible at first but now those lines just keep getting more and more blurred. 

One of your coworkers grabs your attention away from your phone thus leaving Carmen’s message on read. He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him as he gets to work prepping for tonight’s service. Who wants to talk about bathrooms with their… Fuck buddy? Ex? God that’s still so weird to say. 

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Your mind was haunted by thoughts of Carmen Berzatto all day. 

No matter how many busy tasks you assigned yourself he always seemed to creep back in. You’d look around for him when a joke landed well at work and the group you were with erupted into laughter. Could easily picture his head thrown back as he scrubs over his face in an attempt to muffle the sound. When you were standing alone your mind wandered off to the way he treated you last night. So claiming. Expertly working your body the way only he could after so much time of getting to know it. 

The bed feels so much 

You throw the blanket away from your frame and watch as it bundles up beside you. Is this crazy? It feels crazy. You shake out the nerves, fluffing up your shorts and primping yourself for the photo. It takes one, two, seven pictures to get just the right angle. An image of your thighs against the bedding and your oversized sleep shorts bunched up all the way down your legs. Taking a deep breath you steel your spine and pull up Carmen’s contact.

————

11:28 pm 

Headed to bed 

ONE IMAGE ATTACHED

11:29 pm 

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Fuck.

11:31 pm

Goodnight Carmen <3

2:12 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Can’t stop thinking about you 

ONE VIDEO ATTACHED

————

The sun is warm against your skin as it slowly wakes you up. There’s an air purifier rattling in the corner that acts half as white noise while you sleep, half to soak up the smells of Chicago. Sometimes when Carmen’s especially exhausted you have to bring out the big boy and ask your Google home to play sleep sounds to mask him snoring all night. You typically didn’t mind the sound, knowing it’s a sign of just how badly he needed a good night’s rest. 

You’re fishing your phone out of the comforter in a haste to click off the horrific sound of the alarm and your eyes are barely open when you see the alert. A preview image popping up and you can just barely a blurry image of - “Holy fuck!” 

Your free hand flies up to clamp over your mouth as a mix of gasps and ‘no fucking way’ come out of you with zero control. With shaking hands you open up the video, half tempted to pinch yourself with a video of Carmen fills your screen. His hand rubbing over the bulge in his boxers and there’s a mess of shaky breathing coming from behind the phone. You can’t get the volume turned all the way up fast enough and you’re terrified to miss a single sound. 

And there he is. 

Fishing his cock out of his boxers and stroking himself for you. Illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table and his hand over lubricated to mimic how wet you get for him. He’s a mess of filthy moans, bucking hips, are you dreaming? 

The combination of the sun beating in and the way this video is making your body go hot is too much. You’re overheating, kicking the blankets away from you while your hand goes into your shorts on instinct. Toying with your clit even though you don’t have much time to spare as you watch Carmen get off for you.

————

8:04 am

HEART REACTED TO A VIDEO

Mine tonight?

Fuck you sound so good

Wish I would have been there to clean you up

Say my name more next time please

How am I supposed to go to work now 

————

No response. You aren’t surprised, he’s typically busy in the morning. 

So you go along your day and let yourself enjoy the thought of Carmen coming back over tonight to take care of you. You had thought letting him back in was a risky move but things seemed fine so far. Settling into the new version of what normal was going to look like. Maybe things would end up being some version of alright after all. 

A chirp from your phone catches your attention and you’re instantly uninvested in whatever task was at hand. It might be a little pathetic how excited you were but that is besides the point. 

————

10:32 am 

[CARMEN]: Busy tonight

————

Busy tonight? Go fuck yourself Carmen! 

You waited all morning and THAT’S the response you get? Were the multiple texts too much? Did you come off too clingy? Sure he just stayed the night, was two times in one week where he drew the line? 

So you leave him on read and take away the heart from his video. Change his name back to DO NOT ANSWER and instantly feel the urge to get off tonight leaving your body. Replaced by a subtle anger that only he can bring out of you. 

The workday seems to go by so much quicker as you have this internal argument with yourself and mentally pick a battle with Carmen. Maybe you were silly to think things would… What? Go back to the way they were? No, of course not. 

Ugh!

Carmen who, by the way, truly was slammed. Got stuck hosting an event for an old family friend that he barely knew but was convinced it’d be good for business. He’s overwhelmed by work and anxious with his relationship with you. The breakup was horrific. One of the worst things he’s had to experience so far which certainly says a lot. At the very least - It made sense. This though? Sleeping together, fucking when you have shitty dates and he’s your second choice for the night, taking pictures of dumb things he sees during the day because it made him think of you but never actually sending them, it made zero sense.

If only there was something the two of you could do to figure this whole mess out. 

But alas.

You bring home a salad that’s far healthier than anything you’ve eaten all week accompanied by some fresh pressed green juice nonsense you lie to yourself and mentally say is delicious. The boy detox starts now. 

The shower you take that night must last an hour. Every inch of your body gets scrubbed, your face and hair both get a mixture of treatments and masks. You primp and polish yourself up and convince yourself that this is all for you and not so you look better than ever and Carmen will have to regret his stupid and shitty ‘Busy tonight’ text because you were also just like so, so busy and -

Fuck Carmen Berzatto. 

You decide you could go the rest of your life without hearing from him and be just fine. It was his loss. You’re funny, beautiful, and excellent in the bedroom. There’s thousands of people out there dreaming about finding someone like you!

This internal argument keeps going. And you know what’s annoying? The second you fling yourself into bed you realize he left his scent all over your sheets still. It hasn’t gone away - Cologne mixed with Carmen. And you 100% aren’t hunting out the scent nor are you hunting out a reason to stay annoyed with him. Not at all. So you get back out of bed and grab the fabric freshener to spray your sheets back down with, giving it a minute to dry before falling face first into the mattress with an annoyed huff. 

So yeah, fuck him. You hope you never hear from him again and toss your phone on the other side of the bed. Forcing your eyes shut and making your mind go blank because otherwise you’ll stew all night thus continuing this Carmen induced spiral. 

————

1:47 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Hey

————

Fuck.

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 7

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

I'm sorry for anyone on my tag list who haven't been getting the notifications that I posted. I'm not sure what the problem is or why it's doing that. If anyone knows how to fix it please let me know.

Enjoy this chapter

Chapter 7

A storm rages outside, thunder booming, causing the house to shake each time. Y/n doesn’t have curtains in her room so every flash of lightning lights up the room causing the omega to toss and turn unable to sleep. 

With a huff she looks at the clock on the nightstand to see it’s about three in the morning when another loud clash of thunder shakes the house once again causing her to sit up, shaking a bit in fear. She wonders if anyone else is up because of the storm or if she’s the only one. 

The alphas told her if she ever needed anything at night to just go to their room and Felix said if she wants to cuddle but she feels silly going to one of them because of a storm. She’s not afraid necessarily but she just doesn’t like how the thunder shakes the house and the sound of rain that normally soothes people irritates her. 

With a sigh she gets up deciding that she’ll go downstairs and maybe watch tv in the living room or game room to keep her occupied and distracted. Walking past everyone else’s rooms as quietly as possible she makes it down stairs stopping in the kitchen first to grab a glass of water. After gulping down most of it, setting it down on the counter, thunder boomed causing her to jump and the kitchen light turned on. 

“What are you doing up?” Chan walks in having been the one to turn the light on after seeing her jump from the thunder. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” 

The alpha shakes his head no. “I’m a light sleeper, anyone walking past my room I hear. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Y/n leans against the counter. “Just  having trouble sleeping, I don't really like storms.” 

Thundering crashing causes her to tense up. 

“Why didn’t you come to one of us?” 

Y/n blushes feeling embarrassed. “I felt it was silly to need comfort just because of a storm”

“We get it, Felix doesn’t like storms either.” He tries to help her feel better. “Pretty sure I heard him go to Hyun’s room when the storm first started.” 

“Oh.” She now feels stupid for thinking it was silly.

“Baby girl, we’re here if you need anything, even if it’s something as small as needing to be with someone during a storm.” He moves to her and pulls her to him. “Why don’t we head to my room? You can sleep in my bed.”

“You really don’t have to do that.” Y/n protests. “I’ll be okay.”

“You’re a real stubborn omega.” Chan huffs, gently grabbing her around the waist, throwing her over his shoulder making her squeal a little and walks up stairs after turning the kitchen light back off. “You’re not getting a choice in this.” 

Y/n huffs accepting her fate letting him take her to his room, pulling the blankets back and placing her in the bed tucking her in. 

“I normally sleep without a shirt, is that okay?” He asks hovering over her. “If not I can sleep with it on tonight, I don’t mind.” 

“It’s okay.” The omega whispers. “I want you to be comfortable too.” 

He smiles down at her before taking his shirt off causing her to blush as she sees how muscular he is. She turns away as he climbs in the bed next to her getting situated. 

“Is this okay?” He checks in on her since she’s turned away. When she hums a yes he smirks before wrapping an arm around her and pulls her so her back is against his chest. “What about this?” 

“This is fine.” She mumbles, glad he can’t see her as she’s blushing so hard right now. 

“Good.” Chan hums snuggling her closer to him if that was even possible and kisses the top of her head. “Goodnight baby girl.”

“Goodnight Channie.” 

The next morning Y/n wakes up alone in Chan's bed with a headache. She heads downstairs to find anyone. 

“Where is everyone?” She asks Jisung as she walks in the kitchen.

“Chan and Changbin had to go into the office one last time this week. They normally don’t have to go in more than once a week but because of your dry heat starting tomorrow or the day after they decided to head up there to make sure everything is good since we don’t know how long it could last.” He starts to explain. “Minho had one of his advanced dance classes today as well as a one on one so he’ll be back in a little bit. Felix went with Hyunjin to teach his art class at the community center in town. Seungmin is around here somewhere and Jeongin is in the home gym.”

The omega nods but quickly regrets it as it makes her head hurt worse.

“Are you okay?” 

“Have a headache.” She whimpers, placing a hand against her temple. “Didn’t really sleep well last night because of the storm.”

“Oh, you don’t like storms either like Felix?” He hums in understanding and grabs her arm leading her to the living room. “Why don’t you lay down on the couch for a bit? I’ll get you a glass of water. I’m about to go take a walk around the property anyways so it’ll be quiet down here for a bit. I’ll tell Jeongin and Seungmin to keep it down too.” 

“Thanks Ji.” She smiles, laying down on the couch as he places a blanket over her. 

He brings her a big cup of ice water placing it on the coffee table as well as places the house phone with it. 

“If you need anything my cell is speed dial five. Jeongin’s is eight but he’s got music playing in the gym so he might not hear his phone ringing.”

She gives him a weak smile before he leaves through the back door making sure his ringer is turned up all the way in case she calls. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Seungmin sits in his room strumming his guitar, a little annoyed after Jisung had messaged him saying to keep it down because the stupid omega has a headache. He’s really getting irritated with her presence and doesn't understand how almost all of his other mates are accepting of her. He’s just glad he has Hyunjin on his side. 

Needing to get his anger and frustration out he decides to head out to the batting cages Chan had set up for him in the field in the back near the shed. But that all changes when he walks out of his room and smells a distressed scent and his beta starts telling him that his fated mate is in pain. 

He runs downstairs as quickly as possible, scared it might be Jeongin as he knows he’s been in the gym and remembers how Jisung once had to save Changbin when he was being crushed by weights. What he wasn’t expecting though was to find the omega in the living room, writhing in pain as she clutches her lower stomach, moaning and whimpering in pain. And he realizes it’s her his beta is telling him is in pain.

“Fuck, fuck.” Seungmin runs over realizing her dry heat has started sooner than the others had expected and now that the suppressants have worn off he can fully smell her and his beta is telling him that she is in fact his fated mate. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m here.” He shushes her while rubbing her beck, trying to put out calming pheromones but she’s in too much pain for it to help. “I’m going to move you to the den, okay?” 

He picks her up and realizes just how light she is as he carries her to the den and settles her into the nest. He grabs one of the heating pads Minho bought, placing it where she’s clutching. She’s sweating and is hurting and he doesn’t know what to do. 

He brushes her hair out of her face to see if she’d look at him but it’s as if she’s not aware of anything around her. 

“Fuck.” He growls, pulling his phone out and dials Chan's number. 

“Hey Minnie, miss us already?” The alpha tries to joke. 

“It’s Y/n.” Seungmin pants knowing he can hear the fear in his voice. “She started her dry heat. I don’t know what to do. She’s whimpering in pain and clutching her abdomen. I moved her to the den and gave her the heating pad but she’s sweating and doesn’t seem to be aware of anything right now.”

“Fuck.” Chan groans then says something to someone else in the background. “Alright, Changbin and I are leaving now, we’ll be home as soon as we can. Where’s Innie and Ji?”

“Umm, Ji went out on his daily calming walk and Innies in the gym, but I’m too afraid to leave her alone.” Seungmin is frantic as he looks around. “I don’t know how to help her hyung.” He whimpers. “I know now, I know she’s our fated mate and I’ve been such a dick.”

“Listen to me, Seungmin, she’s going to need you right now.” Chan speaks slowly. “She shouldn’t be alone, it can cause separation anxiety. I’ll call Innie so he can get done and shower and will take over for you if you want or will just come and help you. As well as Ji. For the meantime just lay with her in the nest, keep the heating pad on her. Try and keep your scent calm, you might need to scent her if you’re okay with doing that. If she seems to get too feverious call me back. I’ll call Felix, Hyunjin and Minho and tell them what’s going on so you don’t have to worry about it. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“Okay Channie.” Seungmin takes a deep breath. “I’m really sorry for how I’ve been acting and treating her.”

“It’s okay Minnie. I know you were upset about all of this, it’s okay.” Chan reassures the beta. “Just be there for her now okay? She’ll forgive you for everything, I know she will.” 

“Thanks hyung.” He sighs. “I’ll see you guys soon.”

“See you soon baby.” 

Seungmin hangs up and tries to stay calm for the omega as he curls up behind her, wrapping an arm around her abdomen to hold the heating pad to her. His other hand plays with her hair as he tries to soothe her. He decided on singing to her hoping it’ll keep her calm. Her moans and whines of pain start to lessen as she relaxes against him a bit, her eyes stay closed though. 

“If you can hear me Y/n, tap my hand.” He whispers and she taps his hand lightly. “Good girl. I know you’re in a lot of pain right now but I’m right here. The hyungs and Innie will be here soon too. But I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” 

“How is she?” Jeongin steps into the doorway, still sweaty from working out. 

“In pain but she’s calmed down a bit now.” The beta explains.

The youngest nods in understanding, setting a glass of water down next to the nest before moving to the windows closing the curtains so the sun isn’t shining into the den. “Make sure to keep her hydrated. I’m gonna pull the curtains on the glass doors and close them, hopefully the lack of light will help with her headache as well as closing off the den will keep any loud noises from the others when they get back from disturbing her.”

“Good idea Innie.” 

“I’m gonna go shower. Jisung should be back soon.” The alpha watches them for a moment. “If you want we can take over for you when we’re back, or we can just join you guys.”

“I’ve been keeping a distance long enough.” Seungmin grunts. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Jeongin smiles at him. “Alright hyung, I’ll be back.” 

“You need to drink some water. Can you sit up for me?” Seungmin looks down at the omega who groans. “I know pup but you need to stay hydrated.”

He helps her sit up, leaning heavily against his chest, groaning and whimpering with every movement as he brings the cup to her lips helping her drink.

“Minho said she should take these. They should help with her headache and cramping. ” Jisung walks in with the two pill tablets and hands them to Seungmin to help her take them. “He’s having to go pick up Felix from the community center because Hyunjin is being an ass and won’t drive him back.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes but then reminds himself that he was acting the same way the last few days. But he tries not to think too heavily on that as he makes sure Y/n takes the tablets.

After he made sure she drank a good amount of water he settles her back down as Jisung refills the cup before crawling into the nest as well. 

“I’m here Y/nnie.”

“Ji.” She whimpers but cuddles closer to both betas and they both scent her to help ease everything.

“Move over.” Jeongin walks in. “Let me have her.”

The two betas don’t want to but know that the alpha must be going crazy internally having the need to protect her. They make room for him but stay as close as they can not willing to leave her at all. 

“Alpha.” Y/n whimpers.

“I’m here omega.” Jeongin coos petting her head. “I’m here, you're safe.”

The three of them stay like that with her for a while until Chan and Changbin get home, rushing into the den. They pause when they see the betas and alpha snuggled up to her. She’s still clutching a heating pad to her abdomen and her face scrunches up occasionally in pain but for the most part she seems okay. 

“Hi hyungs.” Jeongin whispers, giving them a small smile.

“Hi baby.” Chan smiles back. “You pups did really good taking care of your omega. I’m proud of you guys.” 

When Y/n whimpers again Chan walks over and kneels next to the nest placing a hand on her cheek.

“Hey baby girl.” He whispers, she leans into his hand and opens her eyes a little. 

“She doesn't seem to be as hazy as she was when I first found her.” Seungmin mentions seeing that she’s more aware now. 

“You guys being with her probably helped a lot.” Changbin explains watching the omega. 

“We made sure she drank water and everything but she hasn’t eaten yet.” Jisung speaks up. 

“Where is she?” Felix runs through the house and into the den, but gets stopped by Changbin real quickly.

“Calm down.” He holds the younger one in his arms. “You don’t want to overwhelm her with your emotions.” 

Felix pouts but nods as he takes a few deep breaths relaxing in the alphas arms.

“Alright, everyone out.” Minho walks in with the paper bag from the doctors as well as some of Y/n’s new comfy clothes.

“But…”

“Out.” Minho interrupts Felix’s protests. “I need to make sure she gets her medicine and I’m going to help her change, so everyone get out. You can cuddle with her after I’m done.”

Changbin picks up Felix to make the omega leave as Minho walks over and switches spots with the three in the nest to help take her weight and hold her up. 

“Where’s Hyunjin?” Chan asks, still kneeling next to the nest.

“Wouldn’t leave the community center.” Minho sighs. “I told him if he’s going to be an asshole then don't bother coming home.” 

“I’ll call him while you do this, try and talk some sense into him.” Chan rubs the bridge of his nose and stands up.

“Good luck with that, he yelled at Lix and made him cry.” 

Chan growls and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Where’s your head at, kitten?” Minho asks once everyone left the den. 

“It hurts, Min.” She whines as he lifts her shirt up over her head. 

“I know baby, but let me do this real quick then you can snuggle with Felix.” He starts to rub the cream on her side then moves to her arm.

He makes her take her antibiotic then slips her new shirt on her before helping her change from sweatpants to sleep shorts. He lays her down, placing the heating pad back on her abdomen.

“Alpha.” She whines and he moves closer to her.

“I’m right here kitten, I’m not going anywhere.” He scents her, keeping her close for a moment enjoying the time alone with her. “Alright, she’s good.” 

Minho knew that Changbin and Felix were standing right outside the door and would hear him and laughs a little when Felix bolts in and crawls into the nest as quickly as possible while still being gentle and snuggles up to the younger omega. 

“Channie hyungs making her a snack while he yells at Hyunjin on the phone.” Felix tells the alpha still upset at the oldest beta for refusing to take him home and yelling at him.

“Are you okay baby.” Changbin asks Felix, joining them in the nest. 

“I am now that I’m here.” He whispers curled up with Y/n. 

The two alphas smile down at their omegas as they hope Y/n’s dry heat goes by quickly.

Tag list: @pixie0627 @sinfulfic @estella-novella @mbioooo0000 @ms-flowergirl @blindspot143 @ihrtlix @arishoriasims @fic-for-readers @motheraiya55 @hwangrfrnd @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @juskz @borahae-reads @dreamerwasfound @galaxy4489 @kayleefriedchicken @lostgirlinthewoodss @catkight#stray

[dancingtotuyo]

1. mirror in the sky

Landslide | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Series Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: An unexpected encounter with Joel Miller jump starts a series of events right out of your wildest dreams.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: age gap (approx 13 years), past baby sitter, TV show basis, grief & loss, trauma, anxiety attack, consumption of alcohol

Notes: AHHHHHHH I'm so excited for this! I've been sitting on top of a no outbreak version of these two since before I posted the first chapter of Woman! How appropraite that I bring you the first chapter of Landslide on the first anniversary of Woman. Thank you all for all of your love and support this past year!

What?! @guiltyasdave beta read this?! I never would have guessed that! (love you xoxo)

Words: 3844

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist

You don’t know how you make it to the Austin suburb unscathed. You shouldn’t be behind the wheel of a vehicle, muchless driving an extra 20 minutes, but you need to be home. Not your lonely, one bedroom apartment in the city- but home where mom is cooking dinner and dad is watching the football game, where dad keeps it a chilly 68 inside despite the heat. 

The tears come in silent waves on the drive over, but by the time you pull into the driveway, sobs pound at the dam, waiting for it to burst. As soon as the key pulls loose from the ignition, you stumble out of your car, almost tripping up the front stairs. You have to see your parents. It repeats on a loop in your fucking mind. Everything will be fine once you see them. You go for the door knob, but it's locked. Panic scratches at your throat. You try it again, expecting another result. The front door is never locked. 

Your palms collide with the hardwood door. “Mom! Dad!” You can’t seem to draw in satisfying breaths. Your face is drenched in tears and sweat as the panic and Texas heat work in tandem against you. 

It doesn’t cross your mind that they might not be home. Your parents are boring. They’re stuck in their habits. They’re always at home on Thursday evenings. It is Thursday, right? You lost track of time during your shift. It was never ending. 

Your palms sting. It feels like forever, but finally, the door opens. You fall forward. Hands shoot out to steady you. “Woah, there.”

That’s not your dad’s voice. It stuns you just enough to make everything in your body work for a minute. “Joel?” What’s he doing here? Where are your parents? You just want to hug your mom and snuggle on the couch with your dad like you’re 6 years old again. Did something happen to them? The panic comes back double, your body shaking this time. “Where are my parents?” The tears are blinding. “Where are they!”

“Holy shit, Sweetheart.” Joel pulls you inside the house.

You stumble over the threshold falling into him. He slams the door behind you, his arms tightening around your shoulders. “Why aren’t they home? They’re alway home.” You’re hyperventilating. You know it, but you can’t stop it. 

Before Joel can answer, your legs give out. He barely avoids tipping over and landing on top of you. Somehow, he manages to lower you both to the ground without any major damage. 

“They left for their anniversary trip today.”

Fuck, so it was Friday. You’d forgotten all about their 30th anniversary trip. You’d spent more time inside the ER than out of it the past few weeks, picking up as many shifts as possible. Trying to avoid the approaching Anniversary. The one that came just weeks after your parents’.

You try to repeat the words in your head. They’re okay. They’re halfway to Europe now. It does little to help soothe the ache in your chest. 

Joel runs his hand up and down your back. “Shhhhh, it’s okay. Everyone is okay.” He pushes back the hair that sticks to your face. Your sharp intakes of breath eventually die down to sporadic and shaky. “That’s it. Deep breaths.”

Eventually you settle, letting your head rest against the door. Your throat feels tight, your sinuses stuffy, and your chest aches. 

“Stay right here. I’ll bring you some water,” Joel says. 

He’s gone before you have the wherewithal to thank him. 

You wipe the mixture of fluids on your face away with the back of your hand: tears, sweat, snot, probably some drool. God, you must look a mess right. You eye the tissue box across the room but the thought of moving makes your brain hurt and your muscles sting. You wipe the back of your hand discreetly against the clean scrub pants you changed into before leaving work. 

Joel comes back into the room with a glass of ice water. Condensation drips down the sides teasing your drying throat. He grabs the tissue box without a second thought.  

“Here.” He sits back down on the floor with you, carefully handing you the glass of water.

You thank him, making sure the glass doesn’t slip through your fingers. The water is cool and soothing against your scratchy throat. You don’t think, tipping it back further until your worn out esophagus can’t keep up and you sputter, choking on the water. It spills from your mouth, following the lines of your throat until it dips under your neckline. 

“Woah there, slow down.” Joel takes the cup from you as you cough. “We don’t need you choking today too.” 

You can’t help the little uptick of your lips as you struggle to recover. His care and concern is sweet and- no, he’s 13 years your senior, you chide. You gave this stupid crush up last summer the morning after the Randolf’s pool party. You’d woken up and were flooded with the memories, the lines you swore you’d never cross. Thankfully, Joel was either an oblivious son of a bitch, or you were more subtle than you remember. Whichever it was, it doesn’t matter anymore. You are over Joel Miller. 

The dark green shirt that stretches around his biceps doesn’t phase you. Neither does the tool belt slung low around his hips, or the fact that you’re alone in your parents home. Your brain pulls you out of the thirsting that you are not doing, and focuses on that detail. “Joel, what are you doing in my parents’ house?”

“I’m renovatin upstairs.”

Something about that strikes a chord within you. “The 25th anniversary bathroom renovation?” You smile and Joel almost looks relieved to see you return to the version he’s used to. 

“Except it’s the bedroom now too. I think your mom called it interest.” He laughs. 

“Sounds about right.”

“Now,” he props his arms over his knees. “What are you doing here? I thought you got too good for us and moved into the city,” he teases as he nudges you softly. 

You roll your eyes, but the light squishes out when you close your eyes. The images play on repeat behind them. Your heart rate surges again, you feel your breath begin to quicken. 

Joel’s hand lands on your knee, the other cups your neck. “Hey.”

Your eyes snap open. His soft brown ones are closer than you’ve ever seen them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’tve asked.” 

You sign rubbing the tension from your neck. “I just worked 36 hours straight.”

“Holy fuck, isn’t that illegal or something?” 

You shake your head. “Discouraged, but the ER was a madhouse, just one thing after the other. We had a big trauma come in and none of us felt like we could leave. I got a few hours sleep at the hospital before my scheduled shift started.” You’re starting to feel the come down of the past few days and your panic attack. 

Joel looks concerned, like he’s looking you over for any physical injuries. Something that would explain your panic. 

You don’t let him ask anymore questions. “We had this car accident come in- yesterday? I can’t even tell you when.” You can’t get the knot out of your neck. You groan in frustration. 

“C’mere,” Joel motions you over. “I’ll get it.”

You listen, too tired to fight it or over analyze it. His thumbs dig into your tight muscles. You catch the moan before it falls out. “A couple UT students.” 

You contemplate spilling details, but they’re covered in blood, marrying with last year’s events. You can still feel the blood soaking through your scrubs. 

Joel pauses before catching a knot in your shoulder. You gasp in pain, but it feels good too. “Shit, did I hurt you?”

“No, keep going.” You say, and he listens. “They got hit by a drunk driver.”

Joel sucks in a breath. You know he’s thinking back to last fall, the accident that turned your family’s life upside down. It’s the only thing you’ve been able to see since the call came in, so eerily similar to last year. The surrounding events. The injuries. You were working the ER when they brought Carter’s mangled and bloody body in. You watched, helpless to do anything as your friends and colleagues tried to bring him back. You listened as they declared time of death. Even now, you hear the ringing of the flatlining monitor in your ears. 

Joel pulls you into a tight hug, your arms hanging limply at your sides. The exhaustion is just too much, but you appreciate it. It helps, makes you feel less alone. “Thank you.”

“Course.” He gives you another squeeze. “Let me finish working out your back.” 

You oblige, tension melting away as his fingers work toward your spine and then downward. You’d been on your feet for the better part of 2 days, and that was the least of it. 

You let out a long, deep breath, body beginning to settle. “Where’d you learn to do this?” You lean into his hands to increase the pressure. 

“Got real good at ’em when Pam was pregnant with Sarah.” You’re not sure you’ve ever heard Joel mention his estranged ex-wife so casually. 

“God, can’t imagine what would possess a woman to leave hands like yours.” The words slip out before you even have a chance to think through the implications of everything you just said. 

His hands stop moving, palms flat against your lower back. Heat rises to your cheeks in mortification. “Shit, Joel. I’m sorry. Obviously that’s not even an actual reason to stay. Like you have Sarah and that’s an actual reason and I can’t-“ Laughter cuts off the words cascading from your lips. 

You turn around to find Joel leaned back, his chest shaking as laughter comes from his belly, filling your parents' quiet home. You swear you even see a tear or two come from his eyes. One thing is for certain, Joel Miller is not stressed right now and he certainly wasn’t bothered by your comment. Quite the opposite actually. 

It’s contagious as the smile passes over your face. Your chest begins to shake. Mostly, you’re enjoying this rare sight. His crows’ feet crinkle at the corner of his eyes. Your heart skips a beat but you rein it in. 

Joel wipes the side of his eyes. “Pretty sure I was supposed to make you feel better.”. 

“You did.” 

“Glad to hear it.” He groans as he rises to his feet. “I’m getting too old to sit on the floor like that.” 

He offers his hand. You take it and he pulls you to your feet. “Thank you, Joel.”

He nods. “I need to get back to work. I told Sarah I’d be home by 6 tonight.” 

“What time is it?” 

Joel looks down at his watch. You took Sarah into the city last fall to get it fixed for his birthday. “Just past four.” 

You stare up the steps, contemplating staying in your childhood bedroom tonight. You don’t have the energy to make the 20 minute drive home. Your energy is draining by the second. 

“You need sleep, and probably a shower.”

“Showered at work.” The stairs look like Mount Everest to your weary bones. “Think I'll crash on the couch.”

Joel sees it. “You’d still have clothes here?”

“There’s a set of pajamas I left at Christmas in my old room.”

“I’ll get them for you.”

“Room with-“

“The pink walls.” He chuckles, stomping up the stairs. Guess it was obvious seeing as you’re the only girl. 

You’re standing in the exact spot he left you in when Joel gets back. Your sleep shorts, and thin top in his hands. “Thanks.”

“No problem, and if you need anything while you’re here, just come over. Sarah and I will be home all weekend. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

“Thanks. Maybe I’ll stop by at some point. I’d love to see her too.”

You hadn’t seen Sarah since her soccer tournament this spring. You’d lived with your parents for almost a year after graduation before moving into the city to work at the only Level 1 trauma center in the area. 

Joel nods then stomps back up the steps. You change in the bathroom before folding into your parents' oversized sectional. It smells like comfort and all things nice. You can hear Joel working in your parents’ space upstairs, but it quickly fades as the darkness takes over. 

You wake up disoriented, not sure where you are. It’s completely dark around you, but you pull at little threads as they’re given. You’re definitely not in your bed. You can’t hear the city noises below your apartment. You sit up only to be greeted with a splitting headache. You’re in your parents' home. Everything comes filtering back through your brain. You shudder. You don’t want to think about it. 

You shove the blanket off your legs in a pursuit of water and advil. You don’t remember pulling a blanket over yourself, but quite frankly, you could’ve done anything in your sleep deprived state. The water dissolves the cotton in your mouth, but does little to dull the aching in your skull. You’ll have to wait for the drugs to kick in for that. The stove clock says it’s 2 am. 

You wander back to the couch, but the moment you lay down, the restlessness sets in. You toss and turn but your body says no. Finally, your headache has reduced to a dull ache, barely noticeable in the grand scheme of things. 

You know you need more sleep. You should probably sleep for 24 hours straight after the shift you just had, but you sit up again, brushing your hair out of your face. This is ridiculous. Your sleep schedule is already fucked up enough as is. Maybe you should start working the night shift. 

You pace through the dark house. You know the layout like the back of your hand. Your mother hasn’t so much as moved the furniture since you moved into this house when you were 6. 

You step out on the porch for air. It’s cooled down some. You contemplate driving home, but the peacefulness of the neighborhood is comforting. You can almost ignore the ache in your chest, pretend your brother is still alive. 

Across the street, you catch Joel’s TV playing some corny action movie through his big living room windows. You catch the outline of his head, the rehearsed movement of bringing a bottle to one’s lips. He’s not asleep.  

Your heart beats a little heavier in your chest. He had said to come over if you needed anything.  Right now, you need company. It might be the lack of sleep, but your bare feet hit the asphalt without a second thought as you cross the street. Your brain doesn’t even register what you’re doing until you knock on the door. 

You contemplate running away. Who doesn’t love a good game of ding dong ditch? You certainly did in your heyday. Why not relive the glory days when you ran this street?

The door opens pushing away all of the swirling thoughts in your mind. The cicadas play white noise in the background leaving your sole focus on Joel’s concerned brown eyes and your raging pulse. 

“You okay?” 

“I just- I saw your TV on. I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.” 

He gives you a soft smile, stepping aside. “Come on in.”

You exhale almost in relief, stepping across the familiar threshold. Part of you eases, but another tightens up. You’ve spent so many hours in this house, many late nights here, but never with Joel, with him watching you with such concern. Heat flares up your neck. 

“Can I get you anything? A snack? A drink?”

“It’s two a.m.”

“You’re the one who knocked on my door.” Joel teases.

“You told me to come over if I needed anything.”

“So what do you need?” The hour of the night scratches at his voice, sending a charge through the air. 

Your eyes snap up to his, knowing he didn’t mean anything by it other than to be kind, but it doesn’t help the way your skin prickles. You swallow down the lump that forms in your throat. “Company.” Joel smiles at you. Your eyes dart down to his lips. “And some water, please.”

“Coming right up.” He turns for the kitchen before you can do anything foolish. 

You rub your eyes, hoping to clear your head. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid, it runs through our mind. Your inhibitions are lowered after the high flying emotions of the day. You can’t fall into his arms. They’re not open for you, not like that. 

You settle into the corner of the couch, pulling your knees to you chest as the familiar smell envelops you. A cheesy action movie plays lowly on the tv. Joel isn’t too far behind, passing off a glass of water as he eases onto the middle of the couch, arms spread across the back of the sofa. He doesn’t say anything, returning his attention to the tv. You appreciate that he doesn’t ask too many questions. He’s just letting you be. 

You attempt to watch the movie, but it’s bad, almost endearingly bad, but Joel seems to enjoy it. He’s the thing holding your attention. Joel is a good distraction. You’ve never gotten the chance to admire his profile in this way, this close, this undisturbed. If Joel catches on to your staring, he doesn’t let on. He lets you study. 

At some point, your mind takes over again, reminding you of the brother you no longer have, of the deep cavern in your soul. It doesn’t pour out of you like it did earlier with the fury of a hurricane. This is more like a peaceful stream, tears silently gathering in your eyes, falling with little fanfare. 

Joel’s hand falls to your knee, squeezing it softly. It’s the only acknowledgement from him, but it’s what you need. Long after your tears are gone, Joel’s hand stays, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns against the inside of your leg. 

Some line makes Joel chuckle as he shifts further into the couch. Your legs have fallen out in front of you, one brushing his thigh. You’re not sure you’ve ever been this close to him, unless you count last summer when you got drunk at the Randolf’s party. Embarassment floods your system, making you withdraw your legs slightly. 

Joel’s brow furrows, head turning to you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod, not sure you’re convincing. “I’m just shifting.”

He gives you a once over from top to bottom. Your stomach dips. You know he means nothing by it, but your body doesn’t get the memo. As if to make matters worse, Joel slings his arm back over both your legs, pulling them over his lap. It tugs you closer, pressing more of you against him. Nothing about it is inherently sexual, but your body is on fire. 

You can smell him. The mixture of fading old spice and the ever present smell of dirt that has seared itself to him. You can’t take your eyes off his profile now. You’re close enough to count his eye lashes if you wanted to. In all your life, you never though you would be this close to him, with his hands on you. 

It’s not like that. It’s not like that, you repeat in your head because it’s not. Joel would never look at you like that. He’s too good of a guy. He’s just showing you comfort, but you can’t stop looking at him. The temptation to make a move so close, it’s hard to ignore. It’s not like that.

It’s like your brain is running a million miles a second, taking Joel in, his proximity, while clinging tightly to the thread of self control that keeps you from closing the gap.

Then he’s looking at you and he’s so close. Lights from the tv flicker off his brown eyes, drawing you in further. It wouldn’t take much effort to press your lips to his. Before you can stop yourself, years of college party instincts take over and you kiss him. You kiss Joel Miller. 

It’s a soft, lingering kiss, and then your mind forces you to withdraw. Joel sits still as a statue. He didn’t really kiss you back, but he didn’t push you away, and then it all comes crashing down. This isn’t some fucking frat party. He’s not a peer. This is Joel Miller. You spring to your feet. 

“Shit- fuck, Joel. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Your hands tangle in your hair. “I should go.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Joel stands. His hand cups your elbow, head stooping to be at eye level with yours. Tears shine in your eyes again. 

“It’s not actually.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, desperate to stop them. You’re not sure you can handle more tears right now. 

“Sweetheart, I promise. It’s not a big deal. You’re goin through a lot.” 

Your shoulders drop with relief. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He smiles. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight if you don’t want to be alone. I’ll take the couch.” 

And you want to say yes so badly. It sits on the tip of your tongue. You imagine what it would be like to curl up under his sheets, be immersed in him, but you swallow the quick response down. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay at home.” 

Joel nods. You think you catch some relief in his eyes. He probably wasn’t looking forward to sleeping on the couch. He scratches the back of his neck. 

“I don’t know how long you’re planning to hang around, but you’re welcome to join us for breakfast tomorrow. Sarah usually makes pancakes on Saturdays. I’m not a huge pancake person, but she loves it.”

You decide at that moment Joel Miller is a saint. You just made a fool of yourself. He shouldn’t want to see you again, let you around his kid, but he invites you over for breakfast, offers up his bed. 

“I’ll think about it.” You walk to the door. “Thanks. For everything.” You mean it too. 

“Of course. It’s what neighbors are for.”

You laugh. “Pretty sure this goes past the moral obligations of being neighbors.”

Joel shrugs. “You’ve been the one steady female influence in Sarah’s life. Pretty sure it goes past the moral obligations of being a babysitter.”’

A smile ghosts over your lips. “Goodnight, Joel.”

You open the front door. The wood of the front porch is still warm against your bare feet. Joel leans against the door frame. “Night, Sweetheart.” 

You wave, dashing across the street. You know you’re imagining it when you feel Joel watching you until your parents front door is shut behind your back, but you never hear his front door close. 

Taglist: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites

@missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller

@eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes @hiroikegawa

I carried over the taglist from Woman. If you were tagged and no longer want to be, please let me know! If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

[prettyboykatsuki]

later, then | i. rin

✮ tags ; gn!reader, pre-relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, rin in his actor era, assisstant!reader. this is sfw but i am an 18+ blog so minors do not follow me lol.

✮ wc ; 1.4k

✮ a/n ; a comm for @rabbbitseason that i had to rewrite a couple of times. i rlly liked being able to write something like this. i hope u like the direction i ended up going in sdjksdj

✮ synopsis ; on his last day of filming rin tried to keep you out of his thoughts.

"Rin-kun,"

He knows your voice well enough to know it's you before he even opens his eyes. "Hn,"

"We'll be shooting your scenes next," You say, tapping his shoulder lightly. "They told me to wake you up."

It's not like Rin to fall asleep on a set somewhere, no matter how tired he is. He's usually the type to push through it no matter what. It's petty, but it feels like he's lost otherwise.

He was exhausted before hand though. Months of shooting and he still can't get used to his schedule.

He's here from a morning flight from France that he took all the way back home to Japan. After he arrived, he immediately hailed a cab and busted ass to get here on time. He would normally rest on his journey but found he couldn't bring himself to actually fall asleep.

Professor Heartbreak is a Japanese TV drama (airing domestically lived and internationally on Netflix) and Rin's first acting role. The series follows a romance between a graduate student caught in a lot of debt and her relationship to one of her pupils, college student and heir to mega corporation.

Rin has never had any interest in acting, and had even less interest in acting in a romance drama. His manager however urged (read: forced) him to take the offer, emphasizing how good it would be for his public image among other things. Of course, Rin still declined but no matter what he did - he couldn't actually seem to get out of doing it.

He's off-season now though he started filming during. He can say with confidence there's nothing he likes about the job. No matter how much his manager or director insists that all he needs is to have a pretty face - there's still a level of annoying obligation he feels towards doing it.

The reception was more positive then they were expecting. Apparently Rin is a half-decent actor. He's not playing a character he feels is so different from him, if not much more cringe.

Rin plays the love interest Yukio. Not very expressive and rich with a tendency to chase what he wants. Generally aggressive about the female love interest.

It doesn't suit him and he doubts he'll do it again. But a lot went into getting the role. If he's going to do it at all, he might as well do it well.

Rin hates shit that's half-assed after all, lukewarm acting doesn't suit him.

Today is the last day of shooting and happens to be one of the last scenes. Shooting is sometimes chronological, but not always. Regardless, after today it'll be the last time Rin steps foot on this set. No more long nights, or trying to memorize lines, no more out of place press runs. The practice season will start again and he can go back to the busy he's been used to since the debut of his soccer career.

That also means it'll be the last time you and Rin spend time in the same room. It's the first thing he thinks of when you wake him.

Rin sits up and carefully rubs his eye, careful not to disturb the makeup he wears for set.

"When the fuck did I sleep?"

You laugh under your breath, handing him a water bottle like you already knew he would want one. He takes it from you and takes a long drink trying to wake himself up.

"Been a little over an hour. Hour and a half, maybe. Did you sleep okay?"

He scowls, just slightly. "It was fine."

"I'm glad you slept well," You add, voice full of mirth and amusement as you read between the lines said all too easily.

He was moody when he came on set with you, worse then normal and refused to sleep. You suggested he rest his eyes and Rin scoffed at you for thinking he's so stupid. He's not a kid you can trick into going to sleepy.

You conceded easily, made a single sly comment about hoping he's all there when it's his turn. It'd be a shame if he had to keep shooting the same scene and ended up home late after all. Enough of a provocation to submit to your stupid suggestion.

Rin supposes this was why his manager hired you in the first place. You're in a temporary position, your contract to be in place until filming is over and Rin's back on normal scheduling. Rin realized pretty early on that you're more like a glorified babysitter then an assistant which is why he didn't have very pleasant expectations of you at the start.

But you're competent. Push without pushing too far. Clever even when it's annoying. You've known each other for a year and the only thing that binds you is work but you're with him all the time. Maybe it's just the job, but it still feels like you know him better then most.

Not like he cares.

Realizing he was tired enough to sleep and goading him into doing it are two separate things though. But you've managed both pretty easily which he can admit is a feat. You're always like that. You remind him a little of another annoying striker in that way.

A quiet settles between you. Rin gropes around for his phone, checking his messages and the time. Still a few hours until the set wraps and no doubt social obligations afterwards. He groans.

"I'm going home after we're done shooting,"

"You can't," You say, apologetic. "Manager says you have to show your face during the after party."

"That doesn't make any fucking sense."

"You're the main male love interest, you should at least drop in for a little bit. Have a beer, unwind."

"I don't like drinking,"

"A soda then. Don't be so stubborn."

Rin huffs, carefully pushing a hand through his hair careful not to mess up the styling. There's a beat of silence.

"Are you going?"

"To the drinking party?"

Rin looks at you as if to ask isn't it obvious. You just chuckle.

"Why?" You tease. "Will you stay longer if I go?"

Rin pauses. And it's quiet for just a second too long before he realizes. You seem to understand the implication almost instantly.

Even before Rin who catches himself just a second too late.

"...I don't mind staying with you until you've filled your quota. If that's what you're asking." You supply.

Rin frowns, faint warmth creeping his neck. "Then do that."

You fight back a smile. "Sure, sure. What time were you thinking of leaving?"

"As soon as possible," He says bluntly. You laugh that time. Brightly. Sincerely.

"Seems like a waste. You can handle fifteen minutes without me, right? Doesn't feel like I need to go if we're gonna part ways so soon anyhow."

Rin pouts. A petulant, ugly feeling in him. He speaks without thinking. "You're saying it like we're never gonna see each other again,"

You both catch it.

"Are we?" You're grinning at him where you stand next to him, eyes cast down to look at his face. He fights off a blush but fails to keep from turning red. Fuck. "Seeing each other again, I mean."

He doesn't know what it is exactly that makes him answer the way he does.. "No shit."

You grin, beam really - and your fingers brush his hand on the couch. Rin jolts, clearly in deeper than he thought.

"Okay. Then let's go together and get something to eat after," You say, coy. "Since we're seeing each other again,"

Rin rubs a hand on the nape of his neck.

"Shut up. Fine. Whatever,"

You laugh again no longer hiding it. He hands his water bottle to you as he gets called onto set. Standing to his feet, he takes a breather to stretch out all his limbs.

You give him a mischievous smile, staring at him openly when something seems to strike you. Like you've just realized something.

"Rin-kun. Bend down a little. I need to tell you something."

Confused but not concerned, he complies without thinking.

You place your copy of the script strategically to obscure both your faces, and in a single split second - Rin feels something soft and warm press against his cheek followed by another giggle like a bell chime. He flusters, instantly scowling and tomato-faced and nearly cussing as you look so self-satisfied.

(Warm. So warm where you linger on his skin. Hot where you've touched him despite how brief.)

"For good luck. I'll see you later then. Knock 'em dead, okay?"

He curses under his breath before they call him one more time and he watches you disappear to go do the other half of your job. He puts his hand to his cheek and takes a breath.

Stupid. He closes his eyes and buries the explosion of feeling in him as he replies to no one in particular.

"Idiot."

[randoimago]

Fandom: Critical Role / Legend of Vox Machina

Character(s): Percival Fredrickstein Von Whatever Whatever De Rolo III

Note(s): I have no idea what possessed me to write this. Here I am looking for cute, fluffy things and trying to decide who to write for when all of a sudden The Changebringer took the wheel. Here's some Hurt/Comfort with Percy set during the Chroma Conclave stuff but no campaign spoilers (just mentions of things that have happened already in the TV series)

"Are you okay?"

Percy rolls his eyes at the question as if it's the dumbest thing anyone has asked him. And honestly, in this moment, it might be. He's had his family almost wholly taken from him. A demon pretty much had him under possession at some point, attempting to kill those he cared about because of his damn pride and need for revenge. Dragons are every-fucking-where, and he's just a human with a gun.

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine, just like the sky is green. Next question," he mutters, tone his usually casual with a hint of frustration.

"Percival-"

"How I'm doing is pointless. Caring about me right now is pointless. Who gives a shit if I'm okay. How about you ask the people of Whitestone, who have been under the thumb of a vampire for years? How about you ask those that lost their homes to dragon fire, acid, ice, and every other bullshit element under the sun. I am fine." It's been a while since he's let out his feelings. Since he's spoken and the weight he's carried seemed to drain a bit. Since he's felt tired.

It's silent for a moment. And usually, he would turn around and stomp off to go sulk. But he doesn't because he feels bad. Who the fuck are you to make him feel bad?

"I'm sorry. It's just… It's a lot happening, and I don't know if I will ever be okay," he admits with a sigh. And now you're silent and he's feeling even worse. Out of all the blasted emotions, guilt must have been created by the Hells.

"Percy, you're allowed to be tired. You're allowed to be angry and frustrated. You're allowed to want to scream and punch in someone's face." He can't help but chuckle a bit at your last words. He'd rather shoot someone in the face, he might break a nail if he punched someone.

"Am I? I'm part of a small group of people who seem to be the only ones able to do anything against all of this. Am I really allowed when so many are looking at us for guidance? How fucked must the world be that we're their last hope." There's a dry sense of humor in his words, and you shake your head at them, but he knows you have the same tired amusement that he does.

"Yes, you are. And if they don't like it then they can kiss your ass."

"Most people are unworthy of kissing my ass."

"There's the bitchy noble I know."

He makes a face at you when you call him that, but it doesn't hold up as more amusement takes its place and he shakes his head. His arm moves to land on your shoulder, initially just wanting to hold you for support before the rest of his body treacherously pulls you in for a hug, holding you tight.

"I'm not okay, my love. I was truthful earlier with not knowing if I can be. But thank you for still staying with me. Despite me being a… bitchy noble." You chuckle at the huff he lets out with those last two words, but it puts him at ease.

"You might not be okay now, but we'll get through this. Yeah?"

"Yeah. You, me, and this group of assholes that we travel with for some godforsaken reason." You laugh again and he smiles more, feeling that diminishing weight vanishing for just this moment.

[lieutenantfloyd]

Love is a mystery | Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal x reader

Word Count: 841

Summary: With Harry’s help, Rosie finds old hobbies and new love in post-war New York.

Warnings: Mentions, of war, implied ptsd and depression, talk of marriage and pregnancy.

Authors Note: I honestly don't know where this idea came from, but I think my brain needed something a bit fluffy after watching all nine episodes of Master of the Air in two days and crying the whole time. [This is based off of the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I have nothing but wholehearted respect for the real life individuals and situations portrayed.]

Read on AO3

In the months following their return stateside, Crosby takes a trip to see Rosie. During a nice casual lunch, he spends far too long dancing around the fact that Rosie is visibly not okay, and eventually suggests that getting back into things he enjoyed before the war will greatly help his readjustment.

Rosie briefly considered placating him with an "I'm fine, really," but he only nods, unable to lie to Crosby. 

The truth is Rosie hasn't slept one full night since his first at Thorpe Abbotts and he gladly accepts shaky hands and reddened eyes over the twilight memories of what he saw and those he's lost.

Yet, after a night of particularly bad insomnia, he takes Crosby's words to heart and heads to the library. The pen trembles against Rosie's calloused hand while he fills out the library's card application, but his voice is steady when he asks the pretty librarian for recommendations.

He's too distracted by your shiny, kind eyes to notice how you recognize the distant look in his own. contrarily, You note in your diary that night how you couldn't tell if it was sympathy or his easy charm that made your heart race wildly while suggesting some classics and mysteries that should keep his mind busy.

-

"you need to get out more, Rosie," Crosby states in a letter one day.

It just so happens that during a now routine trip to the library, Rosie notices a half-hidden flier for an Agatha Christie book club pinned to the community board.

A week later—spurred onward once more by Harry's words—he pulls himself out of bed, has a shower and shave, and attends the meeting.

The cracked glass of Rosie's brown leather watch allows him to see he's half an hour late as he ascends up the small steps in front of the building.

Designated meeting room C is quiet and mostly dark as he pulls the handle. He's three solid steps inside the door when the room's sole occupant looks up at him—you, that same librarian with those same eyes.

He barely has half a mind to choose one of the provided refreshments—a cup of black coffee dangerously close to room temperature—before sinking into one of the many empty seats. The weary but logical part of him says that this is a waste of time, but the remnants of his fun-loving side tell him that he's got nothing to lose.

He takes a sip of coffee and sinks further into his seat.

While exchanging kind pleasantries, you retrieve a well loved copy of Why Didn't They Ask Evans? from your envelope handbag. Rosie quickly follows suit and slips his own newly bought but already dog eared book out of his leather coat pocket.

"So you liked it?" you inquire with joyfully clasped hands and a voice filled with breathtaking earnestness. After nearly choking on a hefty drink of coffee and his fluttery nerves, Rosie lets a bashful smile slip past his defenses.

Ninety minutes pass completely uncounted before Rosie steps back out onto the snowy, bustling New York City streets. He quickly shuffles home, tossing his coat and book onto a chair before dropping down onto his bed. He intends to return the items to their rightful place after a short rest, though the book will find a home on his bedside table after he spots your number jotted on the inside corner in loopy, flowing handwriting.

-

Spring is well in bloom when Rosie and Harry see each other again. 

Rosie spends the following two days giving the Crosby family a tour of the best sights and eats his hometown has to offer. 

Their third evening in town has Crosby swaying his young son to the music flowing through the jazz bar while covertly helping Rosie draft his proposal speech. You and Jean are sat within arms reach, though you both pay the boys no mind as you're fully entranced by the music. The night winds on, and the draft becomes a full, completed speech. They share a coy laugh as Rosie slips the notebook back into his vest pocket, knowing that if all goes right this moment will find its way into Crosby's best man's speech.

In this smoky bar just past dinner time, they both accept that they aren't the same men they were before the war. They’d seen a hell no words could ever describe, and yet the world somehow kept turning. They escape to the bar soon after, where Harry tells him that he'll soon be a father once more. Rosie offers his congratulations and jokes that he won't be far behind. The bar is dim, but Crosby still catches a glimpse of the lighthearted playfulness returning to his friend's eyes.

You and Jean coo and fuss over the baby as the men say their goodbyes. Through an especially tight hug, they make each other a silent promise to keep holding on. If not for who they were before but for who they are—and what they have —now.

[braidlottie]

WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGER.

part 1

series masterlist | gif credit | next chapter

you were finally home from school, with the weekend ahead of you. you got an insane amount of work done last night, just so you could take the next few days to relax.

kicking off your shoes and putting your key on the hook, you called for your mother.

you walked through the hallway, entering the kitchen and seeing your mother and another lady across from her with a cup of tea.

“oh, hello,” you greeted shyly. the woman just smiled and waved. “sorry if i’m intruding-”

“no, it’s fine, honey. i wanted you to meet lottie. she’s one of my friends from high school.” the woman went to shake your hand, you shaking back politely. “i’m y/n.”

“your mother’s told me quite a lot about you, y/n.” lottie’s eyebrow raised, your smile fading. “oh god, she didn’t show my naked baby pictures, did she?” you asked in fear, making her laugh and your mother roll her eyes.

“very funny. now if you’ll excuse me, i’ll be in the bathroom.”

taissa leaves the room, also leaving silence between you and lottie. you went to the fridge to grab a drink, gulping deeply before speaking again.

“so how did you and my mom meet?”

“we were in a soccer team together in high school. we were so close, the team had a beautiful bond. it was almost like we were stuck together with glue because we would never leave each other’s side. but then, college came around.”

you frowned. “did you guys end up going to different schools?” lottie nodded, taking another sip of her tea. “we all made plans to meet up during break, but no one ever had any time. then one day i realized i haven’t spoken to my friend in months.”

“i’m sorry, that must’ve been hard.” you tried to say something sympathetic, nervously scratching the back of your head. “you’re a darling, you don’t have to apologize.” lottie shook her head and lightly patted your hand that was on the marbled kitchen island. you looked down at your feet, then back up at her. she was totally checking you out, but you didn’t want to think that! she was your mother’s friend!

but..

her touch was so gentle, and her voice, oh her voice was so raspy yet so soft and warm, it could send you to sleep. you were so bad at making eye contact and part of you felt like she knew.

“what were you two talking about?” you jumped, hearing your mother’s voice down the hall. lottie’s hand left yours, just before taissa turned the corner, the same peachy smile she had when you first saw her. “oh just telling him about us in high school. your mother was the most competitive person i know. and still is.” lottie turned to you mid sentence, her eyes dark with lust.

“uhh, it’s been fun you guys, but i really have to study-”

“on a friday?”

“yes, mom. on a friday.” you hurriedly walked up the stairs, seeing the two women watch you from below.

finally, walking up to your room, you closed the door. you straight up lied to your mother, turning on your tv instead of pulling out our workbook. you just wanted to get away from it all.

you couldn’t get the way lottie looked at you out of your head. her eyes were practically burned into your brain, you couldn’t even close your eyes. her big brown eyes were still there, staring you down.

you got broken out of your trance when you heard a knock on your door. “can i come in?”

“uhh- yeah, sure.”

your mother came through the door, leaning against its frame. “i just wanted to let you know that lottie was staying over tonight. are you okay with that?”

your heart sunk. you had thought you wouldn’t see this woman ever again after today, and now she’s staying at your house?!

“uhh, yeah, no, that’s totally fine. that’s awesome, actually.” you smiled awkwardly, trying to play off the fact that you wanted lottie to absolutely fu-

“are you sure? you seem a little-”

“tired. i’m really tired, i might actually take a nap.”

“alright, well, good night, honey.” your mother kissed your forehead, you mirroring her smile as she walked out your room, closing the door behind her.

you face planted onto your bed and sighed. you wanted to go back down there and talk to her, but there’s always tomorrow, right?

[hymnserendipity]

Mikey, netflix and chill

Smut, Age up, no gender mentioned

Lately Mikey had become passionate about one TV series in particular, Sweet Home. You saw her with him, eating popcorn during breaks from work when he didn't have to train for motorbike races. But he was often tired in the evenings, so those were also the times when you could be more intimate and when you both had more energy.

As you smirked and began to tease him by lowering his pants, Mikey's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected you to act so boldly all of a sudden as soon as the episode had finish. "Whoa, hey now," he said, his voice laced with both amusement and a hint of desire. "What do you think you're doing there, huh?" You show him your tongue, teasing him.

"Can i, pretty please?" Mikey let out a soft chuckle, unable to resist your plea, especially when you looked at him with such a cute, pleading expression.

"You're impossible to say no to, you know that?" he said, shaking his head in mock annoyance. "Fine, go ahead. But be gentle, yeah?"

You accidentally hurt him ONCE, but he will never forget it. You start with the lenght, teasing him with your tongue and hands, then pass to the tip already dropping pre cum.

As you began to work her magic, Mikey leaned back on the bed, his eyes half-lidded as he watch you. A low, contented sigh escaped him, his body responding to your touch. "Damn...you know just how I like it" he muttered, his voice slightly strained. He reached out, his hand gently tangling in your hair, wanting to feel more of your. A sense of pleasure and tension coiled within him, his breathing becoming slightly heavier as you took all his lenght on your mouth, stuffing it while you twist your tongue. "Keep going like that..." he warned, his eyes darkening with desire. You smirk at him from lower, stop working and lowering your pants to go on top of him with. Mikey couldn't help but groan as you straddled him, your smirk driving him wild. The sight of you sitting on top of him, riding up your thighs, sparked a surge of desire through him.

"You're playing a dangerous game here, you know that?" he said, his voice low and strained. "Teasing me like that is going to have consequences, you know"

"I'm going to be the top now!!" You were so feisty and determined, it was a major turn on for him. "Oh, really now?" he teased, a hint of challenge in his voice. "You think you can handle being on top, huh? Let's see what you've got" As you start to kiss his neck, Mikey's breath hitched in his throat. You were so bold, so uninhibited, it took every ounce of his self-control not to fully surrender in that moment.

"We're not going to use any protection, huh?" he murmured, his voice huskier than usual. "You're really pushing your luck now"

"Hmm okay, maybe you're right" you stoo and open the drawer. Mikey couldn't help but feel a mix of disappointment and satisfaction. He loved your feisty side, but he also knew the importance of safety.

"Wise choice," he said, his voice a little breathless. "As much as I love your recklessness, we should still be careful, we should not make a mess." Mikey watched as you put on the condom on him, his eyes dark with desire.

"Now, where were we.." he murmured, his hands reaching out to caress your hips, pulling you closer again. You couldnt resist to be on top, and you start bounching. His moans fills the room as you both finish quickly, the excitement was too much the two of you didnt had much stamina for that round.

After your passionate encounter, Mikey and you lay cuddled up together. His arms wrapped around you, he felt a sense of contentment and peace wash over him. He gently stroked your hair, his touch tender and loving.

[bitchinbarzal]

Truth | M.Wood

summary; “they say what they really think of you after you’ve broken up”

-

You’d met in 2013 during a weekend visit to Boston College. You’d been on the same tour and Miles wouldn’t stop flirting with you.

He slipped you his number before you left, you never called.

That was until you were watching the NHL draft with your dad in the background one night and you heard his name before a series of pictures came up on screen of him.

You text him that night.

hey, weird of me lol but congrats on the draft today hey you’re pumped! It’s y/n btw.

He replied,

feeling even better now I’ve got a pretty girl messaging me.

He made you his girlfriend not long after freshman year started, he was enamoured. Nobody could understand it, he was the player so how had you gotten him to settle down?

You followed him to Jersey, we’re right there as he put pen to paper and signed his life away. There when he scored his first goal against Winnipeg.

Now nine years after meeting and you’d just broken up.

You felt weird, in denial almost like this wasn’t really happening. It was.

He moved out of your shared apartment, it was easier for the devils relocation team to find him a place.

There was still stuff to sort out like your dogs, Frankie and Arlo. They were with you for the time being but you were sure Miles would want to at least take one of them.

Your shared bills, cars and bank accounts.

“You can still use the account-“

“I don’t want your money Miles” you only snapped, cutting up your hand in front of him.

To be honest, if you were to be asked why you broke up you couldn’t give them a reason. It was probably a bunch of little things.

The fact you were together so long with no ring? No family prospects? That he didn’t really seem so interested in you as of late?

Miles always seemed interested in something else, never you and it started to take a toll.

Your self confidence plummeted. You noticed him on instagram liking bikini pictures and other things that made you insecure.

You felt horrible about your body.

Sitting in the box at games you’d be thinking about the comparison between yourself and these others wives and girlfriends. 

He had made you feel like you weren’t enough.

About three weeks in, Nico came round. An unwelcome surprise.

“Nico if you’re here-“

“I came to say hi I promise!” He interrupted, his hands up on his defence as he walked into the apartment.

“What can i help you with, cap?”

“Just came to um, check on you see how you were doing” he replied, sitting on the couch making himself comfortable.

“I’m fine Nico” you grumbled, retrieving a drink for each of you from the fridge and returning to give it to him.

“We’ve just been worried is all!”

You both took a prolonged sip before you asked “How is he?”

Nico hissed softly “He’s um… he’s okay I guess. It’s kind of like he’s lost his right arm? He’s learning how to be Miles again and it’s hard for him but we’re all here”

You nodded silently “Yeah… it’s good he has the team”

“Oh yeah for sure!”

“Does he… does he talk about me?” You weren’t sure you actually wanted to know the answer to that but you asked anyway.

Nico nodded “Um yeah i guess? You guys were really sickeningly in love I think some of the guys have been waiting for this moment so they can hear what he has to say - they say what they really think of you after you’ve broken up”

You nodded curtly, not wanting to think of the bad things Miles would be saying about you.

Nico realized his mistake when he saw the look on your face but never said another word.

Nico hung around a little longer, playing with the dogs and just generally checking you were ok before he left.

Later that night you received a text while in the middle of your TV show.

from: nico hischier

if you want to know how he really feels, watch this.

You clicked through the link and it took you to YouTube to see a hockey podcast, one you had heard before whenever Miles would have it on in the car.

Miles sat in the guest seat, giving insight on what they asked, talking about the devils season and Nico’s leadership.

“So man apart from professional side of hockey, what about personal? We don’t see too many guys in long term relationships in this sport you’re like what? eight, nine years with your girlfriend now?” The guys asked and Miles chuckled softly.

“Ex girlfriend now”

“Oh man, I’m sorry I didn’t know-“

“No, dude it’s fine don’t worry about it I’m happy to talk about it anyway” he interrupted, assuring him it was alright.

“Yeah i mean, we were nine years in a relationship which was a long ass time to be together. We met when we were in college and I was just some stupid kid I wasn’t making millions or whatever, she just liked me for me and that’s what I love about her” he explained, a common habit he had was talking with his hands and you laughed as his hands bounced around the desk.

“She Is the love of my life, one hundred percent. I don’t have a bad word to say about her. She’s there for every loss – I’ve never had a loss fully sit on my shoulders it’s always on hers too. I remember when it was a possibility that Seattle were gonna take me in the expansion and she was online looking at houses for us just incase, she’s crazy but she’s amazing”

The interviewer interrupted “if you don’t mind me asking, what ended it?”

“Me” he answered simply “I’m a hockey player man I let everything get to my head, the attention, the money, the fame it all went right to my head and I forgot that I had the woman of my dreams, the girl I love more than anything willing to do anything for me right there for nine whole years without so much a ring. Given the chance now, I’d put a ring on her finger tomorrow”

“Thanks for taking the time to speak to us today Miles”

You sat there for a moment while the phone screen went blank, tears rolling down your face.

You unlocked your phone and pulled up his contact, opting to text not sure you’d trust your voice.

to: miles 🤍

come over? I think we need to talk…

read at 6:43pm

Twenty minutes later the door rang. You opened it to find Miles stood on the other side.

“Hey…” he trailed.

“Come in, please” you urged.

He awkwardly maneuvered himself into the house and pandered to the dogs who had missed him ever so much.

“Hi buddy! Hi!”

You stood smiling at him and their obvious excitement to see their dad again.

“Do you- do you want a drink?”

He straightened up “No, no I’m good thanks”

You gestured then to the couch and he took a seat very awkwardly.

“I watched the podcast” You said, still fiddling with your hands.

He nodded “Nico called me, said he’d come to see you”

“Why would you say those things Miles?”

He looked at you like you had grown another head “Because it’s true? It’s like everything I wanted to say to you and never got the chance”

Your bottom lip quivered, his voice, his words playing back in your mind

“say it, please” it was almost a beg.

Miles looked almost in pain hearing your voice “Don’t cry babe-“

“Miles just say it” you snapped.

Sighing, he grabbed your hands and said “I let a lot of shit get to my head and as a result of that, I lost you and that was one of the most painful, gut wrenching things I’ve ever experienced in my life. I will forever be ashamed of how I treated you”

You nodded, thumb running soothingly over his knuckle “You said given the chance, you’d put a ring on my finger. That true?”

“So much” he breathed, letting go of your hand and walking over to the tv console, opening the drawer that held his Xbox and pulling out a small box.

You gasped “Miles-“

“I’ve had this for almost eight years”

“Eight?!”

“The day I signed for Jersey and you said you’d come with me, I went out and bought this ring with my first pay check because I knew I wanted you to be my wife” he mumbled, opening the box and showing you the ring.

A few tears rolled down your cheeks and you sniffled before you said “Do you still want that?”

“Huh?” His head shot up.

“Do you still want me to be your wife?”

“Of course i do-“ You stuck your hand out towards him and said “Well then put a ring on it and I’m yours, Wood”

He shook his head, almost trying to wake himself up from this dream “y/n… you can’t be serious”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes of course!”

You smiled “Well that’s all that matters then, I know you and I know your heart Miles”

He stood frozen for a moment before he moved to take the ring out and put it on your finger, lifting the hand to kiss it before kissing you.

“I love You” You mumbled against his lips.

“You have no idea how much I adore you” is all he replied, the strength of his kiss has every one of his emotions in it “and I’m so sorry, baby so sorry”

As tears rolled down his cheeks and landed on yours he tried to hold back his sobs, the sobs of relief.

After all, the truth will set you free.

[dg-outlaw]

"Holy Childhood Trauma, Batman!"

Okay, let's get into it. *spoilers ahead*

X-Men '97: Episode 5 - Remember It

So without boring everyone with yet another recap as every nerd fandom outlet has that covered, I want to highlight all the things that really impacted me with this episode.

The animation team, storyboard artists, and directing for this episode.

I love how this series has captured the essence and style of the original 90s series, but has amped up the actions sequences to an 11, 12, 13, or 20! It's been a hot minute since I saw the original series, but I just don't recall many truly badass anime-esque action sequences from the OG series. And while X-Men has always been more of a socio-political and interpersonal drama, it's always cool to see your favorite characters use their powers in unique ways and this was Gambit's episode. I also love the addition of tears in many of the faces of characters during key moments. It's a minor thing, but emphasizing them just shows the gravity of the emotions the characters are facing. Also, special mention to episode 1 as well with Cyclops' intro and the ending battle in the sentinel graveyard. This series is what we all wanted back in the 90s and honestly, I'd be fine if comic book adaptations were more in animation form than live-action. CGI and VFX can be cool, but having characters do insane, gravity defying things like in this episode without looking janky is so awesome.

The usage and variation of the X-Men theme.

In both these scenes (above) the X-Men theme is played, but in vary different ways and I love when a score or soundtrack can enhance the mood of a scene or just help tell a story or convey a mood/emotion. In the first, we see Gambit and Rogue heading into battle and the score is slowed down and just has this serious tone to it. We're not having fun. This is war and we've got our game faces on. The second is the traditional theme and fits the tone as Gambit is just showing off and being a badass. IDK. I'm not a student of music, but I still love this stuff and how even the same music can be varied to convey different moods.

The impact and stakes.

Without getting too political (even though X-Men is all about politics and social issues), it was hard to not feel an extra impact by this episode's destruction of Genosha given the events taking place overseas in Palestine (as well as so many other countries that don't get as much news coverage). Again, trying to keep this to X-Men, but seeing the mass loss of innocent life (even in a cartoon) in such a quick and brutal way just sent my mind there and it was hard to not tear up thinking about the real loss of innocent life in our world (but without superheroes to intervene). Not to mention, I was already prepared for the loss of Gambit thanks to being on the internet and not watching new content the second it drops.

Honestly, this episode felt like an epic finale given the gut punch of emotions, the action, and the destruction. I know there are many theories that this could/will be reversed or altered via time travel, especially with the presence of the Watcher and Cable's attempt to warn his mother, Madelyne Pryor, but narratively I hope we sit with the weight of what happened in this episode. Selfishly, I want it fixed yesterday but I know that if that were to happen it would minimize the stakes and take away from the emotional weight of this episode. Also, the X-women are going through it this season. First, Storm, then Jean, and now Rogue.

The Ending and Saying Goodbye

So, as mentioned above I had Gambit's death spoiled and while I hate that I still wasn't prepared. As I said, I was already dealing with emotions at seeing the destruction of Genosha, but when it came for Gambit's end I was falling down onto the ground even more. Add in the rest of the X-Men at home, only able to watch from TV, devasted and powerless, and then Rogue's emotional (Death of Superman-style) goodbye as the episode faded to black... I still can't watch this scene or think about it without getting emotional all over again.

That said, to all the kids who thought I was lame for picking to play as Gambit on the playground instead of then fan-favorite Wolverine like everyone else, this episode and his epic goodbye was just amazing. I think anyone wanting to do Gambit justice in a film or solo movie/series should watch this episode and take notes. While most of us hope to die peacefully in our sleep at a ripe old age, I think going out like a total badass hero is a close second and Gambit achieved that. I'm sure it'll get fixed eventually, but I think Genosha (when they rebuild) should have the Magneto and Xavier statues back up, but also have a giant one of Gambit as well.

And speaking of Magneto, having him have flashes of his childhood and embracing the Morlocks (especially Leech) at the end was just more piled on emotional damage... and apparently this is just the tip of the iceberg for this season according to the writer/showrunner. I guess the writers know their audience is probably mostly 80s and 90s kids who grew up with Bambi, Land Before Time, NeverEnding Story, Gremlins, and all the other emotionally damaging "kid" content we were exposed to back in the day. Do I need this level of trauma or PTSD as an adult? No. But I'll keep watching.

[seedsofagony]

Overwhelm (KnY ♡ Hotaru)

Cherrytober Day 14: Hotel // Aftercare

Series: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Characters: Haganezuka Hotaru

Word Count: 579

Summary: modern au, x reader (gn), post-sex, allusions to rough sex, slight angst, top/sub drop, aftercare, cuddling

Notes: PSA that top/sub drop can be a normal part of any sexual experience ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Disclaimer: Underage, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked. For everyone 18+, FUB free or filter my unique tag for this event: #sweets🍒24

You lie on your side, covered in a sheen of sweat, trying to catch your breath. Purple half-moon bite marks and hickeys cover your neck and shoulders. The muscles in your lower back are already starting to protest—never mind the absolute pounding between your legs. You're going to be sore later, but, as you come down, lying together with your lover, all you feel is tremendous warmth.

And yet, something isn't right.

"You okay…?" you ask.

Hotaru nods, but says nothing. You cup his cheek in your hand—he's a beautiful mess, hair wild, lips swollen from kissing, but there's a deep furrow in his brow.

"That was pretty intense, wasn't it?"

He looks at you, the furrow creasing into concern. "Does it hurt…?"

You grin. "A little–" his face falls before you can finish your thought, "but, I'm fine! It was great." You stroke his cheek with your thumb. "You were great."

"Great" doesn't even begin to describe the experience you just had—the hunger in Hotaru's bright eyes, the primal urgency, the growling. You rub your thighs together just thinking about it, but round two is definitely out of the question. At least for now.

"We could tone it down if you want?"

"No! I mean, I just…" Hotaru groans and rolls onto his back, pressing his palms against his eyes. "I don't know what I meant."

You shift onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows. "We don't have to do anything you don't like."

"I liked it," he says, voice quiet. "I loved it. It's just that, sometimes," he sighs, "I feel so much…" Lowering his hands to his chest, he turns his head to you. "It's overwhelming."

You hum thoughtfully. After a moment, you sit up and reach for the remote on the nightstand.

"Come here," you say, patting your knee.

Frowning, Hotaru scooches up against you and lays his head on your shoulder. You turn on the TV and flip through the menu, putting on a rerun of the series Hotaru loves to hate—a reality show where the contestants compete to make the best sword.

As the TV flickers, you only half-pay attention to the manufactured drama. Instead, you glance down at Hotaru from time to time, checking his expression. For awhile, his brow remains creased, his mouth a thin line, but eventually, his face begins to soften. He makes a comment here and there, muttering under his breath when he thinks a contestant has done something particularly stupid, clucking his tongue when an inferior sword cracks during quenching.

As the stream rolls over to the next episode, Hotaru sits up. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you softly—a far cry from the earlier ravages of his mouth. You savor it, sweet as honey, leaning your forehead against his when you part.

"Feeling better?" you ask.

"Yes," he says, kissing you again before snuggling back into your side. "Thank you…"

"Of course." And you mean that—of course you would do this for him. This isn't an exchange, an hour or so of cuddling for the most back-breaking sex of your life. It's a continuation of the expression, one strong emotion fading into the next until you're yourselves again.

You stare at the TV without really watching, idly stroking Hotaru's hair while he eviscerates the contestants. He really had been great, the way he handled you so easily, took you in the truest sense of the word—but this?

This is bliss.

[rickie-the-storyteller]

Behind Closed Doors - Sneak Peek

I've been meaning to start posting dialogue plans again, just like old times. But instead of Steph's Crew (which I have actually made private on here now), I've decided to do it for a brand new story with a totally different vibe to that particular series.

Here's an introduction to my NYC billionaire romance drama (with a side of social commentary and music industry/corporate culture exploration) - Behind Closed Doors!

It follows Renaud Entertainment - a huge company split into 5 different divisions of entertainment production (different things like TV, film etc). It is a family business, started by the late Marc Renaud - a business-savvy French man with a passion for creativity. He and his wife, Isabelle, had five children together. This story follows the middle child (Vincent. During the main events of the story, he is the head of Renaud Records - the music production division of the company) and his love story with a kind, fiercely independent and principled nonprofit worker named Elena Crewe.

I will start posting dialogue plans in chronological order soon, but before I do that, I'll be giving you guys a sneak peek into this story by sharing a written excerpt that I have done for it. Unfortunately, it doesn't feature the female lead, but I thought it would make a good introduction to the story because it features Vincent and his four other siblings - all very fun and important characters.

Unlike with Steph's Crew, this story doesn't have any content warnings for strong language lol. I've tried to keep the dialogues clean for the most part.

Anyways, enjoy!

_

Wedding Day

Vincent adjusted his tie for the fourth time, staring at his reflection in the church bathroom mirror. The fabric felt like it was strangling him, though he knew it wasn't actually too tight. Everything about today felt suffocating.

"You've been hiding in here for fifteen minutes," Lewis said from the doorway. "People are starting to think you fell in."

"I'm not hiding."

"No?" Lewis raised an eyebrow. "What would you call it then?"

Vincent turned away from the mirror, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Just making sure I look presentable. Unlike some people," he muttered, gesturing at Lewis's slightly crooked bow tie.

"Deflection through insults. Classic Vincent." Lewis stepped forward to check his tie in the mirror. "You know you don't have to stay for the reception if it's too much for you."

"Why would it be too much?" Vincent's voice came out sharper than intended. "It's just a wedding. I've been to dozens."

"Yeah, but this one's different—"

"It's really not."

The bathroom door swung open and Gabriel entered, looking between his brothers. "There you are. Sophia sent me to check if you were still alive." He studied Vincent's face. "Are you okay?"

"I swear to God, if one more person asks me that…" Vincent ran a hand through his carefully styled hair, immediately regretting it. "I'm fine. More than fine. Absolutely fantastic."

Gabriel and Lewis exchanged a look that made Vincent want to punch something.

"Stop that," he snapped.

"Stop what?"

"That thing you do. The 'poor Vincent' look. I don't need it. Especially not today."

Gabriel sighed. "We're just worried—"

"Well, don't be. Jules and I dated for six weeks in high school. If you can even call it dating. I paid her to pretend to be my girlfriend because I wanted to one-up you two. That's it. End of story."

"You liked her though," Lewis said quietly. "Really liked her. Even if it started out fake—"

"Okay. Can we not do this right now?" Vincent cut him off, checking his watch. "The ceremony's about to start."

As if on cue, organ music began to drift in from the chapel. Vincent brushed past his brothers, but Gabriel caught his arm. "Vin—"

"I'm fine," Vincent insisted, though his voice shook slightly on the word. He shook of Gabriel's hand and turned away, making his way to the ceremony. His brothers watched him in concerned silence, before following after him.

The ceremony itself was beautiful, in that generic way all weddings were beautiful. Vincent sat between his younger sisters, Camille and Sophia, grateful for their quiet presence in comparison to his older brothers. They didn't ask if he was okay or give him concerned looks. They just existed beside him, Sophia occasionally squeezing his hand when Jules said her vows.

Jules was radiant. That was the worst part. She practically glowed with happiness as she promised forever to Mark – the same Mark she'd left Vincent for all those years ago. The same Mark she'd gone to that stupid dance with, the last big dance before…

Vincent pushed the thought away. Ancient history. It didn't matter anymore.

At the reception, he found himself at the bar, nursing his second scotch when Jules appeared beside him.

"You came," she said softly.

"You invited me."

"Wasn't sure you would actually accept it, though." She smiled, and for a moment he saw echoes of that sixteen-year-old girl who used to share her lunch with him every day. "I'm really glad you did."

Vincent took another sip of scotch. "Congratulations. You look happy."

"I am. Very much so," she said, her smile never leaving her face. She seemed to genuinely mean what she was saying. She paused, almost hesitantly, before speaking again. "Are you? Happy, I mean?"

He turned to look at her properly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Vincent…" She sighed. "We never really talked about… everything. How it ended. And then your mom—"

"Don't." His voice was quiet but firm. "Please."

Jules nodded, respecting the boundary. After a moment, she spoke again. "I just want you to know that you deserve to be happy too. Really happy, not just… comfortable. Or in control."

Vincent's laugh was hollow. "And what makes you think I'm not?"

"Because I know you." She touched his arm gently. "I always have."

Before Vincent could say anything else back, Mark appeared, wrapping an arm around Jules' waist. Jules let Vincent go and immediately melted into her husband's side as if it were natural."Mind if I steal my wife for a dance?"

Wife. The word hit Vincent like a physical blow for some reason.

"She's all yours, man," Vincent said, trying to sound as casual as possible as he watched them leave together. "Always was. Always will be. Forever."

He watched them move to the dance floor, the way they fit together so naturally. No contracts. No transactions. Just love.

Camille found him later, sitting alone at his table, watching the couples dance.

"Last chance to ask the bride for a dance," she teased, but her eyes were gentle.

"I think I'll pass."

She sat beside him, following his gaze to where Jules and Mark were still swaying together, lost in their own world.

"You know," Camille said carefully, "it's okay to admit that something meant something to you. Even if it wasn't supposed to."

Vincent was quiet for a long moment. "She was my best friend," he finally said, so softly Camille almost missed it. "Before everything else… she was my best friend. My only real one."

Camille took his hand, and this time, he let her.

"You okay?"

This time, Vincent considers the question. "No," he admits. "But I will be."

Later, in his car, Vincent loosens his tie and lets out a long breath. His phone buzzes – another potential arrangement, another woman willing to play by his rules. He stares at the message for a long moment.

Then he puts the phone away and drives home alone.

In his mansion that night, Vincent poured himself another drink and looks at an old photo from high school – him and Jules at that last dance, both trying to pretend everything was fine. He doesn't keep many photos from back then, but this one… this one he's kept.

"To real love," he toasted sarcastically to the empty room, but something in his chest feels hollow. He put the photo away in his desk drawer, next to the last birthday card his mother ever gave him.

Some things, he's learning, can't be bought. But that doesn't mean he's ready to risk trying to earn them honestly either.

Not yet.

The hangover from the wedding day lasted three full days, but the cold emptiness dragged on for much, much longer.

_

There it is! It isn't perfect, I know... but I quite like it as an introduction. Let me know your thoughts on it! I'm pretty excited about this series.

[kittyamore0]

So here's the deal.. Maybe reader is daughter of Sidney Prescott, by ivf,as after scream 3 she wanted to have someone to love, so she did and then 10 years later skip to scream 4,it was a little 9 year old reader who shot Jill because she was about to kill her mother, in the hospital, she sees a birth certificate and sees her mother's name on the mother column and on father's column she sees.. Billy Loomis, she confronts her mother about it, and Sidney tells her that she got to know about the identity of the other person too late (don't ask why he would do this, maybe as a prank or something..) then in scream 5 she came back to woodsboro when her uncle dewy died, and when she hears Sam is Billy's daughter, she tells her she is her half sister, then in scream 6, reader starts to like the nerd ethan laundry alot, and when she is drunk she tells him who she is, as no one besides Sam, Sidney and gale knew who her father was, which ethan says during the confrontation scene, he did like reader and tries to Ave her from Quinn, as Quinn wanted to kill reader because she was Sam's sister and she was also there when her brother died. At the end, reader drops the TV on ethan,... I know its too detailed but please?

A/N: Nothing too detailed for me!! A/N: This does sound like a series though tbh

𝑷𝑨𝑷𝑬𝑹

꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱

꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱

[𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐥]

╰┈➤ FANDOM/GENRE: Horror, dark romance, Ghostface, scream 5, 6, and 4

╰┈➤ RATING: SFW

╰┈➤WRITING STYLE: Series

╰┈➤ TAGS: @kittiescrownedsoul, @zspen, @auranightangle

╰┈➤ REMINDER: Do NOT transfer, translate, modify, copy or steal my ideas!

╰┈➤ CW: Murder, attempted murder, shooting, guns, stabbing, blood/bleeding, attacking, stalking, deaths,

꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱

"So, Sidney, I heard you had a daughter?" Jill smiled at Sidney. "Uh, yea..." Sidney hesitated to answer.

"Could...could i see her?" Jill tilted her head. "I just want to see my cousin's daughter...since...yk, i might die to Ghostface," Sidney slowly nodded. "Yea, uhm, thats fine...shes just with her aunt Gale right now so..." Jill gritted her teeth and put on a fake smile. "Thats okay! Im...Im gonna head upstairs and go get ready to see Kirby." Sidney smiled at her.

૮｡✧ ｡ა૮｡✧ ｡ა૮｡✧ ｡ა૮｡✧ ｡ა

"Okay. Last one, alright? You are killing me..." Gale chuckled. "Okay, okay...is uncle Dewey a bad person?" Gale furrowed her eyebrows. "No! Where'd you hear that?" You simply shrugged. "Ma said that you cant always trust the love interest..." Gale sighed and shook her head. "Okay, sweetie, that is different. Dewey is a good sheriff and helps your mother through a lot of shit. Hes one of the good guys. Depends on the person."

You mouthed a 'ohhh...' before turning to your stuffed bunny. "Why does ma and uncle Dewey call me bunny?" Gales expression darkened. "I thought that was the last one?" You playfully smiled. "Just one more!" Her lips twitched into a playful grin.

"So, you had an aunt. Her name is Tatum, and...thats her bunny. She gave it to Dewey to give to you, as a gift...and they call you bunny because it reminds them of her..." Gale spoke softly. "Where is she now?" Gale grimaced. "On a...a...very long vacation!" You nodded again.

Gales phone buzzed in her pocket. She swiftly picked it up. "Hello? Oh, hey, Sidney. What's up? You want me to pick up her what? Oh, alright. Bye." You curiously watched Gale tuck her phone back into her back pocket.

"Pick up my what?" Gale put an index finger to her mouth. "Adult matters, but why did she have me pick it up now? Its dark out...whatever."

You kept your eyes on the window, watching the street lights flash and shine. You pondered what your aunt Tatum looked like, as you played with the white chubby bunny.

૮｡✧ ｡ა૮｡✧ ｡ა૮｡✧ ｡ა૮｡✧ ｡ა

"We're here," Gale unbuckled your seat belt and exited the car. She opened the car door for you and held out her hand. You gladly took it and hopped out of the car.

You stuck to Gale's leg, since there were quite a lot of people. Reporters, even. "Hi. Im Gale Riley. Im here to pick up [Name's] Prescott birth certificate." The front desk woman eyes Gale before typing on her computer.

She bends down and opens the drawer next to her, pulling out a firm piece of paper, wrapped in plastic. "Thank you," Gale grabbed your hand and began walking to the front doors, until her phone buzzed again. "Dewey, hun, hi. Shes right here with me, why? Sidneys in the hospital? What?! Ghostface..." she scoffed. "Of course...Im already in the hospital so im going to see her. No buts, bye!"

Gale sighed and crouched down. "[Name], babe, stay here with the front desk woman, okay?" You nodded as she took you to the front desk lady, explaining to her why Gale had to leave. The woman understood and let Gale exit as wanted, but the paper Gale had gotten had fallen out of her purse.

You rushed to pick it up and tried to follow Gale. "Wait, aunty Gale!" The paper had slid out of the plastic wrap. You took a look at it and saw three blood relatives. Sam Carpenter...? Billy Loomis..."Mommys boyfriend..." You gasped. There was another name, one you didnt recognize. You had to talk to your mother about this, and Gale was your ticket to her location.

You began sprinting, watching Gale with your every move. You saw the button she pressed on the elevator, so you went to a different one, jumping to press the button.

You ran out the elevator as fast as you can when you heard a 'ding,' seeing Gale turn into a certain room. You heard grunts and things being thrown around.

Gale was being held at gunpoint by a woman you hadn't recognized. "Can i say one last thing?" She scoffed. "What, please?" Gale smirked. "Clear," her eyebrows furrowed. "Clear?"

"Clear!" Sidney comes up behind Jill and electrocutes her in the head with two defibrillator pads using 360 joules of energy. She falls backwards while Sidney crouches down to Gale.

You silently watch, making notes of Jills movement. She was still alive. You saw a gun on the floor, on display. You quickly ran to the gun, startling Jill. "What?! "

You grabbed the gun and fired in Jills direction, shooting her in the throat, shoulder and chest.

"[Name?!]" Sidney scurried to your side, pulling you into a tight embrace. "What are you doing here?!" She softly scolded you. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't my real mother?"

She gaped at your words, so did Gale. "What...?" You softly frowned. "I have the paper..." Sidney whipped her head in Gales direction, as Gale frantically searched through her bag. "Shit..." Gale chuckled nervously.

"I was trying to find out who your father was...I now know, and so do you because of a certain someone..." Sidney gritted her teeth.

"I...I think I have a sister..." Sidney tilted her head. "You do?" You nodded. "I do! Can we find her?"

"Um, Im not so...sure," You sniffled and gave her puppy dog eyes. "Please, promise me we'll find her!" Sidney hesitated before sighing.

"Alright, we'll find her.."

꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱

꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱꒰⸝⸝ꨄ︎⸝⸝꒱

[spaceorphan18]

5 Times Kurt Talks About Sex and 1 Time He Doesn't (Part One)

A/N: So, this was inspired the other day by a Nonny who was asking about how Kurt interacts with others on the topic of sex and this little idea popped in my head.

It's a little mini-series, and I'll post one part a day, then I'll get it up on Ao3 after it's complete.

It's set in a post-canon-ish world when they're all living in New York. The whole thing takes place over the course of a day.

****

Conversation One: Tina

There’s a banging on the door.  Kurt hasn’t even had a sip of his morning coffee yet, and reluctantly regrets even getting up in the morning as he makes his way through the kitchen to the living room.  The pounding intensifies.  Good, god, what is so important this early in the morning? 

He opens the door, and in stumbles Tina.  “Blaine!” she calls, without even a hello.  “Blainey!! Blaine, get out here, I need to talk to you.” She pushes past Kurt, in a frenzy, and goes straight for the bedrooms, as if it’s normal for someone not even invited in to do so.  

“He’s at rehearsal,” Kurt grumbles.  He shuts the door and heads back to the kitchen, not even bothering to stop Tina as she races around the apartment in search of Blaine.  

“It’s Saturday,” Tina cries, as if that’s some sort of argument against Blaine being gone.  The apartment is small enough that it takes less than a minute for Tina to confirm that Kurt is, indeed, alone.  

“People still have to rehearse on Saturdays.”  He pours himself a mug of coffee, taking in the deep, rich smell of it as he waits for Tina to inevitably join him.  

She’s grumpy as she enters the kitchen.  “Well, that would explain why he’s not answering his phone.” 

He stares at her blankly.  “What do you want, Tina?” 

It’s then that she stops in her tracks, as if she’s suddenly aware that Kurt’s really the only one there to talk to.  She’s unusually hesitant before she speaks again.  “You know what - it’s fine.  I’ll just see him later.” 

Kurt raises an eyebrow at her. “What did you need?” 

“Really, it was nothing.” 

“Tina…” 

“I should have waited for his text,” Tina insists.  “Totally not an emergency.  You don’t even need to mention that I was here.” 

“You’ve already crashed my morning,” Kurt says, waving his mug around.  Sure, it’s annoying to be interrupted during your morning routine - but at least whatever Tina’s backing away from is probably better than anything on TV at the moment. “You might as well just tell me.”

“Well…” she’s hesitant again as she slides into one of his kitchen chairs.  “It’s just that you and I, uh, don’t really talk about this stuff.”  

Okay, so now his attention is piqued.  “What stuff?” 

“You know…”  her voice grows soft.  “About sex stuff.”  

She’s not wrong.  Tina will gossip about other people’s sex lives until the cows come home, but she’s rather tight-lipped about her own. 

“Try me.” 

“I should really wait and just talk to Blaine.” 

“Do you really think Blaine won’t tell me eventually anyway?” 

Kurt’s not sure what is more bitter - his coffee or the expression on Tina’s face.  

“Fine, Kurt Hummel.” She takes a deep breath, composing herself. “So, you know how Artie and I are beginning to see each other again?  Well, it’s been going great.  Or at least I thought it had been going great.  Until yesterday… So, I was going down on him.  And, I mean, it’s not my favorite thing.  Do all men have that weird smell down there? Or do I need to get Artie some kind of genitalia perfume for Christmas? And I mean, I can’t do it for very long because my mouth dries out but anyway…ever since I’ve known  him he’s gone on and on about how much he just loves blowjobs.  I swear, I have heard about every single woman who has thought it wise to give him one.  And, god, he especially wouldn’t shut up about Brittany -- who apparently gives the most magical blowjobs.  Sam used to go on and on about Brittany, too, now that I think of it.  Why are you looking at me like that? Oh, god, don’t tell me you agree with Brittany’s mind blowing oral skills.” 

Kurt throws up a little in his mouth.  “Do you really think I’d let that woman near my dick?” 

Tina waves off the comment, continuing on with her rant.  “Anyway… it takes him forever to come and he just seems barely into it.  And I am trying all of my best moves.  I am not bad at blowjobs.  At least, Mike never complained.  And remember that one guy I dated a few years ago? Greg? He said I was the best he’s ever had.  I may have been the only one, but that’s not the point.  The point is I wanted to talk to Blaine so he could give me tips on how to give a better blowjob.” 

“Wait, is this really what you and Blaine talk about when I’m not around?” 

“This is serious, Kurt!” 

Kurt smirks into his coffee as he thinks it over.  “I mean, if you want to talk about someone who gives magical blowjobs…”

Tina lets out a frustrated grunt.  “Look, it’s not even because of this one time, either.  I tried to wake him up this morning with a little surprise and he just kind of shoved me away.  It was hu-mil-i-ating.  My best friend and would-be boyfriend doesn’t like my mouth on him.  Maybe this was just the worst idea I’ve ever had and we should have never gotten back together.   I just need to accept the fact that I’m going to die alone.” 

Wow.  That escalated quickly.  It’s Tina, though, he’s not really surprised. 

“Okay, Tina.” Kurt sets his coffee mug down and folds his arms across his chest.  “Let me get this straight.  Did you at any point ask Artie about his weird reactions?” 

She sits there silently for a moment.  “Well, no…” 

“So, to recap your morning - you had a bad sexual experience.  And instead of talking to your boyfriend about it, you came to the conclusion that you’re terrible at sex, that you’re going to die alone, and then rushed over here to ask my husband how to properly suck a guy off?” 

“You know, this is why I don’t come to you about these things,” Tina scoffs.  “You don’t have to be judgy about it.” 

Kurt refrains from rolling his eyes at her.  “I’m not-- whatever… Tina, Artie’s an idiot.  You know you have to hit Artie over the head with a brick in order to get his attention.  I think it’s a different set of oral skills that may be more beneficial to your relationship.” Kurt chuckles at his own joke.  “If you want, though, you could just say you’ll be refraining from using your mouth on any part of him until he can use his mouth to give you an orgasm. I mean, if you’re not having fun - why would he be?  And, god, do not buy him some weird genitalia perfume - I’d be happy to recommend a decent manscaping kit instead.  Also, for the record, dying alone isn’t the worst thing in the world - at least you’d have peace and quiet. And god knows I wish I had more of that in my life.  But I mean, please feel free to still talk to Blaine.  He does know how to do this thing with his tongue that gets me there faster than when we were teenagers.  Absolutely magical.”   

For the first time since he’s known her, Tina sits in a complete silence, utterly at a loss at how to respond. 

Kurt picks up his mug and grins as he sips.