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salontiwon · 2 days ago

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- 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜 ִ ֶ 𓂃

[nonidol!hubby jw x fem!wifey]

࣪𓏲ּ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃

Summary: [you and jw are married, and lately you've been feeling insecure/left out cuz he's been spending so much time with him co-workers, staying late at the company and work "parties", he hasn't even slept with you in bed for a long while, it made you feel less specially bcs you're unemployed and just his housewife, your intense insecurities made you think that you're just there for his pleasure, in a heated argument he says some words that were heavy on your heart, he felt guilty and decided to take a break with you away from this world]

Warnings: unprotected sex, breeding, fingering, creampie, cock stroking, pet names? (Baby idk), insecure/paranoid reader,smoking, overstimulation, idk what else tell me if I forgot or didn't know abt something

Note: I can say this is my first (I've been writing tho) but it's my first time posting in this acc and I'm kinda embarrassed/anxious idk why, hope nobody judges and if there's any mistakes I'm willing to receive corrections and education from anyone who comes across my work, thank you.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT FOR YOUR OWN GOOD OR IMMA GENUINELY CRY.

Waiting on the couch, finally deciding to confront your husband about his insanely busy time lately, despite knowing it even before marriage that his job as an important part of that company will automatically take most of his time.

biting on your nails as your insecurities race in your head, like you're hearing another version of yourself making fun of you, look how the "sweet" husband is making you wait, he's out at work parties and god knows where, but all you can do is sit here and clean his dirt.

as the door clicks open, you sit up without a second thought, leaning on the wall at the end of the entry hall "jungwon we have to talk" you say firmly before walking back to the living room

with a loose tie and a few buttons of his shirt undone he follows you, "now? But sweetie I'm so tire-" , "jungwon I said we need to talk" you repeat, making his frustration grow slightly, "and what's so important that you're willing to take the time I should be resting in to 'talk' huh?" He says, and your sensitive heart already started beating faster, scared of not handling this discussion well.

"where are you staying till this hour this last period? Yes you'd say at work but even work won't give you the right to leave me like that!" Your voice trembles, and yes to keep strong, you thought raising your voice slightly would make you feel strong but it only fueled the fire of his frustration and exhaustion, "really?! Are you questioning my loyalty now?! You knew what you were getting into the day I knelt to propose to you!" He yells back.

"I'm not questioning your loyalty I'm just saying, whatever it is, you shouldn't have been THIS absent, it's like I'm single!" You argue.

"'it's like I'm single' my ass, darling please stop being so paranoid I'm too tired to deal with your insecurities right now" he walks to the bedroom, taking his clothes off and slipping under the blanket.

"really jungwon!! You're infuriating! Get up and let's discuss this!" You walk to bed madly throwing the blanket off his body, he sits up but with a deadly gaze this time.

"oh really now you wanna be like this huh?! Okay guess what, I didn't tell you to be here 24/7 , I wouldn't mind if you went to work anywhere and stayed all you wanted doing your job! But you can't force me to drop everything and come running to your arms because of your little insecurities probably about some stretch marks and a massive inferiority complex! You chose to be a housewife then be it! I don't have to fucking pay!" He stands up, his pillow in his hand and a blanket he grabs from the closet in the time you were frozen there, goosebumps all over your skin and tears threatening to fall. It was like a slap on the face making you feel ashamed, embarrassed, hurt and even more frustrated.

he walks down to the living room, falling easily asleep on the couch, signaling that the exhaustion he was going through wasn't as satisfying as you thought it was for him. You slip under the blanket crying yourself to sleep, feeling slightly guilty for ruining his rest, yet you feel hurt yourself.

The night then passes quietly and so are the next few days, awkwardness growing between you two, both feeling guilty but obviously his guilt was greater, he'd occasionally buy your favourite snacks and put them in the drawers without talking to you, or asking about you, above all the stress he was under, your expression that night couldn't leave his mind, how could he say such a cruel thing to such a sweet little soul, he understood your frustration because from where you saw it, it was just the surface, he only thinks about how he left his exhaustion get the best of him, he had the perfect way to gain your smile back but he still has to work on it a little more.

Your eyes slowly fluttering open, you feel a gentle hum, like a car's engine, and after a few blinks and checks, you finally hear

"finally awake?" You feel a big hand on your thigh waking you up completely.

"what's that..my head's spinning" you place your palms on your temples.

"you'll be fine, just lean back and take a deep breath" jungwon smiles pushing you against the back of the car cushion gently by your chest, and as minutes pass, you feel better as you get distracted by the view of the rainy weather and nature surrounding you both and running back as the car paces forward, you even forgot to ask the questions that were in your mind, with your head resting against the window, the sadness started creeping through your calm heart, you immediately start feeling frustrated again at being stuck with him in the car, "how did I get here and where are we going?!" You look at the car's clock, noticing it's 6:00 am, where the hell could he be taking you at this hour. "Do you trust me?" He asks, "jungwon answer me and stop-" he cuts you off "I said, do you trust me?!" He turns to face you just seconds before refocusing on the road, you can't help but nod, after all, an argument won't immediately kill the trust you had for him, "yes I do, so stop being ridiculous and answer my questions" you insist in a slightly annoyed tone making a reassuring smile spread across his face, even tho deep inside you, you knew it's whether a surprise or a way for him to reconnect with you, you wanted an answer.

"just relax, I'm kidnapping my wife is it illegal now?" He smiles making you scoff, you were still so frustrated, but at least seeing this side of him, now you know it really is something good for you, taking you to a restaurant or something, just before you get distracted again by the view and you find yourself out in Dreamland.

At the slight trembling of the car and the sounds of the wheels crashing the hard dirt rocks, you wake up again, your eyes immediately at the clock and they widen, it's now 11 am! You really slept for another five hours in such a position , you look through the window at the pine trees everywhere then look back at him.

"where are you taking me you've been driving for hours! My back is sore" just after hushing you, a wooden, modest house in the middle makes its way to your sight, making you let out a "eh?" , A wide smile you tried to suppress taking over your confused features and a slight flush of embarrassment, cuz after all, you're still hurt and frustrated.

His own face breaks into a grin, brushing your hair back to take a better look, "looks like my girl's excited" , your blush deepens and you push his hand away but gently, "stop it...tell me where we are instead"

without answering, he's stepping out of the car, rushing to the trunk under this heavy rain, he carries the bags he prepared last night, the ones you saw him preparing and thought he was leaving you before you fell into a strange slumber, while he's heading towards the front door, he stops outside the passenger's seat side, knocking at your window with one busy hand.

"afraid of rain?" He jokes, his voice muffled by the door and the sound of rain drops surrounding you, making you shake your head before opening the door and stepping out yourself.

"You look like a maniac" you take one of the lighter bags from his grip.

"oh madam mature, we used to kiss under skies like that". He smirks again, his words making your heart skip a beat at the memory.

With that you finally are stepping inside this house, welcomed by a warm, well tidied up place and the natural fragrance of pine trees surrounding the place outside, the sound of the heavy rain again gets muffled letting both your ears buzzing, you drop the bags in the entry and step in, looking at the modest place, old fashioned couches and handmade details, everywhere you look you'd see a frame, a vase, a rug, and it makes you feel so warm inside, it's nothing like those modern almost empty houses that look nothing like your inner soul, a fireplace at the end of the living room making you mumble

"wow..." You turn back around to face him, he was ruffling his damp hair in the little mirror by the entry and fixing it, before smiling and walking up to you, "like it?" He asked, wrapping his arms around your waist, you immediately tense, you were still frustrated with him, still insecure and slightly embarrassed that this all might be just because he noticed the dilemma you were in. to play it off, you step away taking one of the discarded blankets on the couch ,that was part of the house aesthetic and you knew it, but you're too nervous to play the knowing girl, "god.. why's this here.." You whisper nervously like ‘to yourself‚ making him roll his eyes, a flush creeping to his ears at how you pulled away but he tried not to focus on it for now, but again he didn't give up , grabbing your busy hand, "let me show you the rest", you nod with a blank stare and follow him.

Walking up a few rugged stairs, it was a larger space, with two closed doors and an open one, he steps inside, "here's the kitchen" he turns to face you but you were already stunned, looking at the small fridge, the colored napkins on the counter, the small window and the colored, decorated plates, unlike the plain ones you had back at home, it was like the kitchen you always wanted, since you were a little girl even, the sight makes you squeeze his hand excitedly, and he excitedly responds by stepping out to show you more, he opens one of the closed doors, and there it was, the cozy, warm bedroom with printed walls, and a bed in the center with a soft thick mattress on it, covered with soft printed sheets and pillowcases and a thick blanket, a big window with the incredible view of the rainy weather outside, a beautiful, old fashioned wardrobe with beautiful carved details. You continue looking around in pure awe before he breaks the silence again.

"I'm going to bring the bags so we can make ourselves home"

You turned to ask but he was already walking down the stairs, you were again left with unanswered questions and a frustrating confusion.

Ignoring the awkwardness of the situation he left to do so as you continued checking the place, time passed and you two organised almost everything, showering and changing into comfortable clothes, the sky darkens and the house gets warm when he turns on the fireplace, your housewife and caring nature kicking in, heading to that kitchen of your dreams wanting to cook something, he stepped in behind you, "need help?" He asked, "of course I do, I don't know where anything is" you manage to make him chuckle, immediately start opening the drawers and closing, you two delve into the task and it turns to awkward jokes and forced giggles, you were still deeply hurt and paranoid about his love for you, and he was still thinking about how he could envelope you in his arms again.

Dinner, cleaning, joking, organising, it all passed now and it was kinda too platonic too. you're sitting alone by the fireplace with a cup of cinnamon tea in your hands, he was sitting on the couch across from you, his laptop on his lap completing the final point of his work as he said.

"drink your tea before it gets cold" , without being told twice, he folds his laptop closed and places it beside him, grabbing his mug, you kinda regret telling him that, your paranoia making you think that you're forcing him to enjoy his time with you, you zone out on the fire that's eating on the woods, minutes passing as you both sip and sip, before he immediately places his mug down.

"y/n, I'm sorry..." He breaks the silence making your heart jump with his directness, but you feel guilty for making him feel bad for doing his job, so you just go with "sorry? For what..or what exactly?" You place your own cup down.

He moves to sit beside you, "we know each other too well to act this clueless.." his voice drops to a low murmur, and there you were, realising he's right, you're both mature, adults, grown ups enough to address the elephant in the room. Or at least FINALLY cuz you told him to do so multiple times before his hurtful words, but now that he isn't busy and you're both ready, it'll be more logical.

"you're right...but jungwon, I genuinely hate feeling triggered by you doing your job, I wanna change it but...I just can't and.." hearing your voice admitting that, it almost makes his eyes tear up, as you look into his eyes and you both admire the vulnerability in each other's features, he cups your face and leans closer.

"why are you so precious?" He couldn't hold himself back anymore, his nose tracing your jaw, you squeeze your eyes shut and take a shuddering breath.

"jungwon i.." you were stopped by his burning lips against yours, you immediately melted into the kiss, despite your insecurities eating at you, don't give in, it's just for his pleasure, just for his satisfaction, but fuck, you were deprived of his touch for too long to complain.

He pulls away to look into your eyes, his cinnamon scented breath brushing against your delicate features. "Can I fuck the doubts out of your little pretty head?" He asked, and a slight, shy smile spreads across your face, he's my husband, he chose me to be his, he picked me to be his wife, you think looking at him then back at the diamond ring on your finger "do you want to?" you whisper almost shyly.

"do I want to? Do you wanna find out if I want to?" He whispers with a smiley, deep voice, one of his hands unbuckling his belt, his face nuzzling your neck to make you smile and you did despite your attempts to fight it back, your thighs squeezed together as if trying to hold back the wetness that's uncontrollably leaking out of you as well, cuz with the way his breath is brushing against your skin, and the way he was licking and kissing on your neck? You couldn't say no. All you could do is let out a whisper of "I want it..."

Now with your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, you don't even notice the way to where you're now bouncing on that bed as he threw you.

Unbuckling his belt completely and baring himself before you, he straddles you and rips your pjs top off, tracing the outline of your bra.

"so insecure for what" he whispers as if in disbelief, mostly to himself, before turning you around like you weigh nothing to unclasp your bra, throwing it across the cozy room, followed by your undies, making you shiver.

and he can finally see the ass he loves , the stretch marks he adores,his palm connecting with your ass in a hard slap, making you whimper, reminding you both of the first night after your wedding party. He gets up again, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and lifting your hips, placing it beneath you.

He turns you back to face him, smiling up at you reassuringly, his big hands on your skin, it reminds you of all the times you let yourself go with him and ended up being a satisfied little thing nestled in his arms ,you uncontrollably smile back at him.

He kneels beside your legs, lifting one to rest on his shoulder, his finger gently running along your slit, "so wet bby" he murmurs, making you hiss and squeeze your eyes shut "am I?" You whisper, before whimpers start falling outta your mouth like a broken record when you feel his finger slipping inside your desperate hole, you open your eyes to look at him, seeing him too focused, his cock rock hard against his stomach as he fingers you, a second finger was already in, curling and stroking your g-spot with ease, as if he had a perfectly defined map of your body.

His lips kissing and nipping at your inner thigh, before he sniffs deeply, "you smell like love bby.." he murmurs, one hand gripping your thigh, and the other inside your pussy as you moan and squirm on that bed enjoying yourself, all your worries and frustration is aside for the moment when you're feeling this good.

You look down at him, before your other foot moves to his cock, stroking it gently, he buries his face deeper in your soft thigh as he groans "uh...fuck..." His fingers start moving faster before he looks down at you again. The sight makes him smile even in this hot mess, you both giving pleasure to each other, like the real couple that you are.

"you like that bby? Here?" He strokes a specific spot, making your eyes water as he looks down at you, teasing yet genuinely loving you, his fingers started moving even faster overwhelming that spot, before he feels a pressure pushing his fingers out, just as he does, they were followed by a heavy flow of your waters, and this sight made him leak down your toes, "fuck...Fuck you just squirted baby.." his hot seed spilling down your foot and your essences covering his abs.

you pant, covering your face before he straddles you again, kissing your neck, "are you alright baby?" He tried to peek at your beautiful, flushed face, little did he know you were giggling shyly behind those little hands "yea..", his eyebrows furrow in light curiosity and he pulls your hands away with his "look look who just made a mess and is now giggling .." he said, trying so hard not to ravish you, he wanted to be buried deep in you RIGHT THEN AND THERE, but he has to ask, knowing how paranoid you can get afterwards.

"..can you handle intercourse right now?" He asked, gripping a fistful of your hair and dragging your head back to bite on your neck and sniff, making you know that even if you say no, he'll never stop jerking off on that bed all night long because of you, you look down at his hard cock, making you bite your lip, his hand cups your pussy , caressing your sensitive folds, coaxing you to say yes, "is this a yes? You feel that pretty pussy asking for hubby's cock baby?" He coos, You moan, letting him know that it's a damn official yes and he didn't waste any more time, immediately pushing his tip inside your cunt followed by every inch, he groans in sync with your loud moan at the sensation of finally feeling this again.

Minutes pass and you're now a flushed, moaning mess with tears running down your temples and hair tousled in the sheets, the sight only making him go feral, changing angles every two minutes, hitting deeper and scratching every itch of yours, "you're so tight...fuck and you smell like pure debauchery right now baby.." a hot, panting laugh escapes him, as he continues his thrusts, but even in this situation, your insecurities were still there, and you decided to try to make him look at you, even tho you knew he becomes an animal in heat when he's like that, but it was as if your insecurities were challenging you...you mumble weakly "babe look at me .." but all you get back is two hungry, mad eyes "shut up not now...not when your pussy is feeling this nice baby..okay?."

His gaze softens SLIGHTLY as he looks at you and remembers you're his little lovely woman who's always paranoid and insecure, before sliding his middle and ring finger inside your mouth, he loved being surrounded by your soft inner flesh squeezing him everywhere, he loves feeling possessed by your warmth and giving it back to you, your pussy immediately clench around his cock when you feel his possession of you, the fierce love and lust making you spread your legs wider looking for a fourth orgasm when you feel your pussy getting this slippery, and when he sees the sight in front of him, his eyes almost pop out of his head, your legs wide open, your face flushed and tears all over it, hair in the sheets and your breasts bouncing.

the thought that his thrusts can't get stronger already gets forgotten when he starts fucking you senseless, the bed creaking and skin slapping and here is when your screams couldn't be held back anymore, you grip the sheets in your hands and scream his name nonstop "won... please don't stop..." Your voice making him grip your waist tighter, fucking you fast and hard , the strokes making you feel like your walls are about to explode due to the thick pressure pushing them apart , he reaches out, rubbing your clit, his gaze on his bulge beneath the skin of your lower abdomen.

you start gasping for air when the familiar lightness of your hips starts taking over you making you grind against him, your eyes rolling back as you let out a choked moan, your walls yet again squeezing his dick inside you, and this was all he needed to let go, his hips jerking deep inside you as he groans, his head tilted back and eyes squeezed shut, his hot seed planted deep in your precious inside as he gives a few more thrusts riding out your orgasms. You thought he'd stop now, but the thrusts to calm his twitching dick down only seemed to arouse him again, he didn't stop, and there you were overstimulated and still taking his cock like the good wife that you are, more tears spilling down but your worn out expression only makes him go insane.

His hands grip your breasts making you gasp, it was satisfying, even when you thought you can't cum a fifth time, he continues fucking you madly, there was another hole in the back, but he always thought why would he use it when your puffy tight cunt is there?

Sweat forming on his whole body as he fucks you like a psychopath, you look at him with your completely wrecked expression and it melts your heart seeing obsessed he looks right now, you'll never stop him, even when his thumbs spread your folds to look at his length getting sucked inside then harshly pulling back out, he hisses at the sight, eyes fixated in there and as he starts rolling his hips sensually you knew he was in the verge of filling you up again, you start tightening your cervix muscles, making him roar "uhhh just like that...fuck that ..." He smacks your clit making you whimper just when he buries himself to the hilt, throbbing his hot seed yet again deep inside you, he's now with both elbows on each side of your head, giving the last thrusts to feel the best of his orgasm before he finally collapses on top of you, sticky with sweat and his softened member inside you.

after catching his breath, he rolls off of you, pulling out making you both wince at the light stroke of your two overstimulated privates, he looks down watching his cum leaking out of you and falling on the towel beneath you, before he lights a cigarette as you both stare at the ceiling, the smoke coming out of his mouth, giving you that familiar atmosphere after every sex session, and the silence after that sex with so many unspoken things left you two in confusion, he looks over at you before whispering in a hoarse voice "c'mere" pulling you with one arm around your bare waist easily, you automatically rest your head on his chest, you hand on his abs as he continues smoking his cigarette for minutes.

After it's all burnt, he sits up resting your head on the pillow, crashing his cigarette off in the ashtray on the nightstand, he surprises you by kissing your lower tummy "you were such a good girl for me" he whispered making your tired self smile, brushing your legs against one another despite the discomfort in between them, you stay there drowning in your thoughts again when he heads to the bathroom, wetting a towel with warm water before walking back to you, parting your legs with caring hands and cleaning up the mess, without forgetting to take the towel that's soaked in your fluids from beneath you, heading back to the bathroom yet again, you hear him washing things and moving around, when he steps back into the room, he heads towards the wardrobe slipping in one of his boxers and grabbing one light, silk nightie for you, he helps you into it and kisses your neck softly "are you tired baby?" He asked as you nodded, he gets under the blanket seeking warmth when your bodies come down from the high and processes the chill weather, pulling you with him, letting you rest your head on his chest again as he caressed your scalp and shoulders.

meanwhile, you were fighting sleep there, the only thing stopping you was your doubts, and you finally look up at him,after all this vulnerability and connection, you can't keep being so bitchy about it, "jungwon" catching his attention "hm?" He looks down at you, before you blurt out:

"do you look at me sometimes and wish I was more.... sophisticated? More...into serious, important society? Like.. employed and all?" You look away feeling ashamed of your way of thinking and the fact that his hurtful words from that heated argument actually did have an impact on you.

he shakes his head.

"babe, I know I said some hurtful things and used your insecurities against you, I feel like a bastard for doing so I swear..." He looks into your eyes, leaning dangerously close that your noses are touching before he whispers again "you're as serious and as important as any other human being on this earth ..and even more for me" he kisses your lips gently, leaving a faint taste of cinnamon and cigarettes before whispering again with one hand buried in your hair locks and the other pulling the nightie's strap off your shoulder to caress it:

"you keep that house a home for me, you make me laugh and ease my burdens..you even blow your back cleaning and cooking...and if it wasn't you making me feel alive...god..I don't know how I could've survived every obstacle that has ever came my way baby"

You nuzzle his nose sensually, your vulnerability taking over you as your whispers shake

"I'm sorry for doubling your stress Hun.."

He captures your lips in a deep kiss, sucking your lips into his every time the kiss was about to break, but it eventually does as you both pant, he lets out a breathy chuckle.

"god, many women at work say they wish they were housewives and creating families, I'll never understand women" he laughs, making you smack his chest gently "shut up won you know nothing" you whine tiredly, he smiles tenderly looking at you.

"oh babe I know everything, I know what's going on inside that little head of yours, I know what you love, I know the exact same house you dream of spending a few weeks with me in" he winks as realization hits you like a truck, it was it, the place you always wrote about in your notes, the simple old fashioned house with simple decorations and a fireplace, the cozy bedroom and the painting of the girl by the river that was exactly facing the bed.

you gasp softly and look up at him "no you didn't..." You whisper in disbelief, feeling guilty for all the times you hated how he's always busy, before he cuts you off "yes I did, those nights out, those busy days were all for working on this..." He knocks on your head gently "little dream haven of yours, woman" you immediately hug him tightly,

"I love you I love you I love you" he hugs back "pull away you smell like sex.." he teases along while burying his face on your neck and hugging you tightly against him "ugh go away, go away you little beautiful woman.." he laughs and you do as well.

"sometimes I can't believe you're a grown man, doing things such as putting snacks somewhere and disappearing like santa.." you laugh at him.

"oh shut up, we both know we both have high ego, just imagine after that argument i give you a packet of candies and be like here's your favourite , woman, you'd put it up my ass" he looks at you, his smile softening "but I managed to make you sleep deeply with the last bottle of chocolate milk, you were drinking like a child being all grumpy about me packing 'my bags' , not knowing I was actually planning to kidnap you" he makes you both giggle, continuing the lazy banter in the sheets.

joking for minutes before sleep steals both your minds, the comfort in each other's arms even making you oversleep the next day, cuz your mind and his, had finally found the answer to everything, and you finally feel worthy again.

@twiishaa @slut4hee @stvrrylove @nodoubtily @nanahachi3 @enhard @onlygarden @kikidoul

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 2 days ago

Note

ahhh i read all of your works they are so good. also may please request a "how can you still trust me after everything i've done" with an fem!reader with either 🩺 and/or "i've never met someone as infuriating as you and i can't stop thinking about you" with ⚔️? thank you so much! have a good day!

Hi @beachaddict48 ! Here's the second part of your request! I do hope you like this one! Thank you for asking!

Source for pic

Trust

Word Count: 4934

Tags: fem!reader; modern world AU; mafia; blood; threats; torture; slight angst;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: Doflamingo thinks Law is betraying his trust, and what better way to make him confess than by torturing you?

Notes: Ooff, I feel like I need to really get to these requests, but everytime I start to write one I go: oh well, I'll keep this short, around 1k words, or so... IT'S NEVER SHORT! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, even though I'm so not happy with the ending...

|Masterlist|

“He's not going to give you what you want, Doflamingo. He's not a traitor, you're just wasting our time.”

You have only been in Donquixote Doflamingo's office once. That one time, you noted the opulence of such a room. The tidy desk, the vintage whisky bottles in the corner, some more expensive than a car, the sleek, glistening leather of the chairs. You also noticed that the room exuded something other than opulence: danger. You didn't quite know why, apart from the presence of the man who owned it, but the air was thick with it.

But now you know.

The ropes binding your wrists seem to get tighter by the second, your heart pounds against your chest in such an erratic way that you're almost positive the blond man can hear it. The leather chair has been replaced by a cold metal one, with plastic beneath its feet. At first, you didn't understand why he needed the plastic, but once he took out his knife, it all made sense.

Doflamingo doesn't want to make a mess in his office.

And it seems you're about to become one.

“See, that's where you're wrong, princesa. In my book, the time spent setting out a trap to catch a rat is time well spent.”

Doflamingo caresses your cheek with long, cold fingers. His crimson eyes glint behind tinted glasses, and the mixture of the sweet scent of his cologne and the metallic tang of your blood makes your stomach churn with revulsion.

“Law's not a rat.”

“We'll see about that.” He straightens, his lips curling into a thin smirk as he opens the door to his office to let his nephew in. “Come in, Law. I have a surprise.”

You stifle a gasp behind your teeth, your wrists twisting instinctively as you try to reach your boyfriend, to touch him. The effort only makes the rope’s bite harsher. The plastic beneath your bare feet sticks to them, the blood trickling down your leg, creating swirling patterns and tiny pools.

Law's golden gaze falls on you, and you see it. His control silently slipping. It's something quite small, barely noticeable, but it's there. It's in the slight clenching of his jaw; it's in the way he opens and closes his hand; and it's definitely in the flicker of anger that flashes in his eyes as he directs his gaze back to his uncle.

“What is the meaning of this? Why is she under questioning?” At least his voice still carries its edge and calm composure, though you, who know him like the back of your hand, can detect the barest trace of hate.

“Oh, but she's not, Law. You are.” Doffy's chuckle is low and unnerving, his chest trembling slightly as he places his hand in the pocket of the trousers of his perfectly pressed pink suit.

“I'm not following, Uncle.”

Law shifts, his gaze searching yours again, a shadow of pain darkens the gold, and you take a deep breath, trying to smile through your suffering as to reassure him. He's assessing your wounds, but Doflamingo was merely playing with you before: a slash on your leg, a shallow cut on your arm, a trickle of blood on your collarbone. Law takes it all in, his throat bobbing up and down as he tries to steady his own breathing. He needs to be strong for what's to come.

“You see, Law, it has come to my attention that I am being betrayed. Someone is spilling my secrets to the police, and we can't have that, can we?” You focus on the glint of the knife tapping against Doflamingo's chin, using the rhythmic motion to try to steady your uneven breathing.

It doesn't work.

“I'm going to assume you’ve exhausted all other options before deciding that I should be the one under scrutiny and my girlfriend the one under torture?” He can't disguise it now, even though you know he's trying to stay controlled, you can hear the growl behind his words, the leashed anger, ready to snap.

“Believe me, Law, I wish it weren’t like this.”

You know Doflamingo is a master deceiver, but the way he delivers his words almost makes you believe he actually regrets this.

With a heavy sigh, the intimidating Donquixote steps closer to you, and each tap of his expensive shoes sounds like another nail in your coffin.

“I trust you, Law.” You whisper.

-*-

It was a freaking deluge. The rain was pouring nonstop, the light and blissful pitter-patter having turned into heavy, merciless drops in mere seconds. Your hands held your purse above your head, trying to shield some of the relentless rain away as you rushed to find shelter.

You heard it before you felt it. The screeching tires, the wet sound of soaked concrete. And then blinding pain as you were hit before collapsing on the ground.

Everything hurt, and you barely registered as the car drove away, its driver giving no thought to what might happen to you.

You remember thinking this was how you would die. Having a lifetime of regrets and barely a handful of life achievements.

This was how you'd go.

“Hang in there, help is on the way.” His voice sounded distant, but it was so measured and gravelly that it managed to ground you enough for you to focus on his eyes.

The most hauntingly beautiful eyes you've ever seen, an amber light in the darkness that enveloped you.

“Am I going to die?” It wasn't fear that brought up the question, it was deep-seated regret.

“Not on my watch.”

And he was right. He didn't let you die, he helped you before the ambulance arrived, disturbing the rain with its blinding lights and filling the night with its echoing sirens.

But all you could hear was his voice, and all you could see were his eyes.

-*-

The tip of the knife presses against the hollow of your throat, Doflamingo's fingers hovering over your pulse point, feeling how scared you are.

Little does he know, you're not frightened for your life.

It's Law's life that worries you.

“Stop this, Doflamingo. I'm not the one you're looking for.” Law's voice trembles slightly, and you hope his uncle blames it on his anger rather than on him being on the verge of confessing.

“Sadly, I don't believe that. And I also know how much you care about your little charity case here.”

Law bares his teeth as blood starts dripping from the small puncture wound on your neck. You lock eyes with him, silently pleading for him to be strong.

“You do know what I do to traitors, don't you, Law? It doesn't even matter if they're family or not…”

Law's breath shudders as he closes his eyes, and you know he's reliving the worst moment of his life: the moment his other uncle, the man who raised him, who made him believe in love again, was murdered in cold blood right in front of him.

And how that broke him.

“You're unstable, Doffy. Deranged and delusional.”

Doflamingo removes the sharp tip from your skin, and you let out a deep breath. But then, his fingers grip your hair as he pulls and tilts your head back with enough force to draw tears, the knife now resting horizontally against your throat.

Yet you don't release a single sound.

“Ohhh, I'm so much more than that, Law!” His cackle is maniacal, and the grip on your hair tightens. “I'm insane! But I have a reputation to keep and a business to maintain. I will not tolerate traitors!” He says it with such rage that you can feel drops of spittle hitting you in the face, making you flinch. “Are you the traitor, nephew?”

“He's not.” You answer for him, too afraid he'll let his heart take over and confess just to save you.

“Shut up!” Doffy growls and yanks on your hair, making you gasp as the knife digs into your neck, crimson droplets spilling out and marring your collarbone. “I'm not talking to you, princesa.”

Law takes a step towards you, and you can see how coiled-tight he is, every movement restrained and controlled.

“Doflamingo…” There's danger in Law's voice. The type of danger that would make lesser men flinch in fear and hesitate. But not Donquixote Doflamingo.

He revels in it.

“Just say the words, Law. Either prove me wrong and make me proud, or prove me right and be the same disappointment my brother was.”

Tears gather in the corner of your eyes, your heart clenching at the pain Law must be feeling. You can't let him say anything.

You can't let him die.

“Law, I trust you!” There's not much more you can say.

You hope it's enough.

-*-

“I can never trust you again, Law! I thought we were becoming something. I thought you were the one. I just… I never expected you to have so many secrets.”

You had been dating Law for almost a year, had practically moved into his flat. You loved him, and though he had yet to confess the same to you, you knew he loved you back. He was a man who showed his love with actions rather than words.

But these actions spoke louder than any words ever could.

“Are you going to explain what this is?” The high pitch in your voice almost made you flinch, and you could see your own hand trembling as you pointed to a wad of money, a burner phone, and a gun. All things you had found hidden in the back of a cabinet while looking for treats for Law's dog, Bepo.

Law lowered his gaze, looking defeated and ashamed, two things you would never associate with him.

And it nearly broke you.

“I don't have a good explanation.”

“How about the truth, then?”

Law groaned as he took a seat at the kitchen table, gesturing for you to do the same, only to be met with a huff and your arms crossing in defiance.

“My uncle belongs to the mafia. Owns it, actually. All sorts of shady businesses you can imagine.” He chuckled darkly, a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes. “And then some.”

“And you?” You couldn't believe what you already knew to be true. Law was a doctor, he saved lives. He couldn't be taking them as well. He couldn't be part of this. He couldn't.

Your eyes fell back on the gun, on the phone, on the money…

“I…”

He didn't seem able to say anything else. And you had heard enough. You would never be able to trust him again.

-*-

“I trust you, Law.” You hope he understands. He can't say anything. Not even if Doflamingo kills you. Law needs to be strong.

Law grinds his teeth, his eyes locked with yours, burning with fury and determination. You smile at him. He's so strong.

“I am not the traitor you're looking for, Uncle, but maybe I can help you find them. When you release my girlfriend and stop hurting her.” He takes a step towards Doflamingo, and you see the way his hands flex, like he wants to grab the man and yank him away from you.

Doflamingo pauses for a moment, his grip loosening slightly as he seems to be lost in thought.

“It's not enough.” He whispers as he finally lets go of your hair.

Law releases a breath and you gasp for air.

Then Doflamingo stabs the knife into your shoulder, the blade coming down in a deliberate, arching motion, puncturing your muscle with a sickening sound. The pain is blinding, like nothing else. It radiates down your arm in waves, turning everything too bright and seemingly far away. The wound’s shallow and the knife doesn't seem to have hit anything critical. It’s meant to taunt, not kill.

You taste blood as you bite your tongue to keep from crying out. You won't give him the satisfaction but mostly, you don't want Law to lose control.

“Fuck! Doflamingo, stop this nonsense immediately!” Law takes a step forward, determination setting his pace as fury takes hold of him, but Doffy simply uses his other hand to reach for the gun on his back and point it at Law.

“You stop right there, Law.” Law grunts and halts. You take deep, ragged breaths as your eyes focus back on him, on his gaze, on his pursed lips, and on his clenched jaw.

“I'm fine…” You stutter. The knife still stands on your shoulder and you're bracing yourself for another wave of blind-hot pain when Doflamingo decides to pull it.

“You're brave, little girl.” Doffy seems annoyed. “Not. One. Scream.” He emphasizes each word with a slight twist of the knife, and you can't stop the tears. Frankly, it's a miracle you're holding back your screams. “Are you going to speak, Law?”

“I fucking told you all I had to tell you, already! I'm not the one you're looking for! Release her, fuck!”

“You're lying!” Doflamingo shouts, his nostrils flaring in anger as he pulls the knife away from your shoulder, and you finally let out a scream.

Law calls your name frantically, an urgency in his gaze and you force your head up to look him in the eyes.

“I'm fine, I'm fine, Law. I'm fine.” You manage to sputter between deep breaths.

“FUCK!” Law kicks the chair in front of him and it rolls twice before hitting the desk and stopping. He's clearly seeing you're not fine. “Let her go, now!” He takes another step forward and Doflamingo clocks the trigger of the gun, the barrel still pointing straight into Law's head.

The shiver that assaults you doesn't come from the blood loss. The small whimper that leaves your lips doesn't come from the pain. The tears marring your cheeks aren't for yourself.

And Doflamingo knows all of this.

His laugh starts slowly. A low rumble behind your head that crescendos to a manic chuckle, then to an outright insane cackle.

“Oh, this is precious. This is so good!” Law's hands clench into fists, and he sways unevenly, both wanting to lunge forward and stop your bleeding and forcing himself to stay still so he doesn't anger his uncle anymore. “I've been doing this all wrong.”

Then he steps away from you, sidestepping the plastic so he doesn't get blood on his expensive shoes. Your breath comes out in shallow gasps, each one making the pain in your shoulder travel through your arm in painful throbs.

Yet you have no time to consider whether the blood you're losing will kill you, because Doflamingo places one arm above Law's shoulders, the gesture familiar and taunting as he smiles at you.

“She's very brave.” He says, pointing at you casually with his gun. “And you're a tough nut to crack.” He tsks as he turns his head towards Law, one finger pushing against Law's temple. “I can torture her all night, and she'll barely scream. And you're wound up so tight, she could be on her deathbed, and you'd still be in control of your emotions.”

Law's gaze never leaves you, and you're sure he's watching as you wince every time you breathe, as your breaths grow shallower and shallower.

“Now, what happens if you're the one being tortured, Law?” The barrel of the gun presses against Law's temple, and your breath hitches, your brows furrowing tightly as you trap a gasp. “You won't scream, I know that, but look at her. Look at your little princesa. I bet you don't even need to scream for her to spill all your secrets. Am I right, mi querida?”

You stay silent, lips pursed and eyes locked on Law.

“I trust you with my life, Law.”

-*-

“Please, just hear what I have to say.”

“You have said enough, Law.” A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you tried to close the door to your flat. Law’s foot remained wedged between the door and the doorframe, and you pushed further, not caring if you hurt him or not. “Oh, no, wait. You haven’t said anything. You didn’t deny my accusations, which, in a way, was worse.”

You stopped trying to close the door on him, the gesture futile because he was stronger than you. Lacing your arms around your body as if to shield you from his lies, you took two steps back, expecting Law to burst inside your house. Yet all he did was pry the door open, his hands resting on the doorframe as he slumped his shoulders, his head falling forward in such a defeated way you struggled to keep your heart in check.

“That’s why I’m here. I want to explain it all to you. But I need you to be ready to listen to me.”

“Have you killed people, Law?”

His sigh was soul-shattering, and you gasped, hands flying to your mouth as tears welled up in your eyes. You didn't know him, you didn’t know him at all!

“Can I come in?”

A ragged sob left your lips as you turned your back on him. “Fine.”

You didn’t turn to look at him, but you didn’t have to. The soft click of the door told you he had entered, but his presence always seemed to overwhelm everything else in the room. He hovered near you, yet he didn’t touch you or push your boundaries.

“I never killed anyone. But I never did anything to save them either. So, in a way, I’m an accomplice to those deaths.”

You could almost hear regret tinging his words. He sounded bitter, wounded, and grieved. But was he?

“How many deaths?” His silence should tell you all you needed to know. “How many, Law?”

“Too many to keep track of.”

You lost strength in your legs, your trembling hands finding purchase on the nearby table. No more trust, no more love. Could everything be over just like that?

“Just… please, listen to what I have to say.”

You didn't answer him. But you didn’t stop him either. Instead you took a seat at the table, your head bowed down so as not to look into his hypnotizing amber eyes.

He had already told you how his family died and how he was raised by his uncles. But he had never told you that his uncle Doflamingo had killed his own brother, Rosinante. You heard every word that Law decided to share with you, trying hard to keep your emotions at bay because you found it hard to hate the man you loved so much. Especially when he was baring his heart, his pain to you.

He shared all about what his uncle did, the drugs he sold, the people he threatened, the high-profiled VIP’s he kept in his pockets, ready to be played like puppets on a string. Then he got into detail about what he did in the organization. And though he never killed anyone with his own hands, he had tortured and maimed enough to be haunted.

“Why?” You asked, getting up and ready to throw him out of your house, out of your life for good. Even if you loved him with every fiber of your being. “Why are you still working for him when you know everything he does is evil?”

You watched as his throat bobbed up and down, his hands fidgeting with his phone: a burner phone.

Then his eyes bore into yours, and you couldn’t look away. Not when pain was so evident in them, but that was not what held you trapped in his gaze. It was hope.

No… it was…

“Because I’m spilling all his secrets to the police. I’ve been gathering evidence against him since he killed Cora. I’m going to bring him down, destroy his empire, destroy his mafia, destroy him.”

It was revenge.

-*-

“Trust? Trust is such a wasted sentiment, cariño.” Doffy chuckles before leaning in and whispering into Law’s ear. “She trusts you, Nephew, but do you trust her? Because I don’t. What I trust is that she will spill every little secret she holds dear to her heart once I start hurting you.”

“You wouldn’t!” You cry, using your outburst to release some pent-up pain from your shoulder.

“Wouldn't what? Hurt my own family?” Another maniacal laugh escapes his lips. “You don’t know me at all, princesa.”

Then, without warning, he points the gun at Law’s thigh and shoots.

It all happens too fast, yet somehow, it replays slowly before your very eyes. The sound of the shot still rings in your ears as Law doubles over in pain, his cry trapped between pursed lips and clenched teeth. The smell of blood mixed with gunpowder is intoxicating and dizzying.

You can’t bear it.

“STOP!” You scream, thrashing against your restraints as Doflamingo kicks Law’s other leg, causing him to kneel on the floor with a dry thud. “Leave him alone, don’t hurt him, please!”

“Look at the mess you’ve made me cause.” Doflamingo seems disappointed as he looks at his pristine carpet, tainted with the blood of his family. “I love it when you beg, princesa, but that’s not what I want to hear. Spill your secrets.”

-*-

“I can’t do this. He’s going to find out. He suspects already, and if he so much as thinks I’m the one behind it…” Law’s hands cupped your face, his eyes weary as they searched yours. “I haven’t hidden you well enough. He knows you’re my weakness. He will come for you, and I can’t–”

“Law…” You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the irregular drumming of his heart. “Oh, Law, you’re doing the right thing. Don’t doubt yourself. You’re so close! He won’t find out, don’t worry.”

Your lips found his, and he groaned, pulling you against him in a desperate embrace. “I can’t lose you, I can’t. I… God, I love you.”

You thought you had loved before, but the way your heart somersaulted, the way your breath hitched as you tried to breathe, was proof enough that you had never loved as deeply as you did Law.

“And I love you, Law.” You held him close, your hands tangling in his hair, trying to brush away his feelings of fear and insecurity. “I trust you. You’re doing the right thing. I trust you, Law.”

He sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands tightening on your waist, pulling you closer to him. “How?” A low grunt escaped his lips and he nuzzled his face against your neck, inhaling your scent. “How can you still trust me after everything I’ve done?”

You smiled against his chest, raising your arms to envelop his neck.

“You’re a good man, Law. I’ve known that since the day you saved me instead of leaving me to bleed in the middle of the street. I see it in the way you help people at the hospital, I see it in the way you want to bring justice for Cora. You’re kind, good, whole. I trust you with my life.”

-*-

“Are you going to talk, or should I shoot his other leg?”

Law grunts, ripping the fabric of his jacket to tie it around his thigh, stopping the blood but not the pain.

“Maybe I’ll just skip to the head and get this over with. If I kill him and the treason stops, then I was right, if it doesn’t…” He shrugs. “Oops.”

“You’re sick!” You spit, your eyes searching Law’s. He shakes his head softly, a silent warning for you to remain silent, but you’re not strong enough. You know you’re not.

“Nobody fucks with my business!” Doffy shoves the barrel of the gun harshly against Law’s head, and you cry out again for him to stop. “And Law should know that better than anyone!”

-*-

“How much longer? Don’t they have enough proof already? What more do they need?” You paced the kitchen, back and forth, hands wringing against each other as your breathing came out in irregular gasps.

“They say they’re almost ready. Almost.” Law typed away on his computer, his fingers detailing Doflamingo’s latest business. He was using a burner laptop, something that couldn’t be traced, and it was hiding in your flat.

“Almost is not soon enough! Doflamingo is breathing down your neck already. How long until he suspects something? I can’t… Law… what if he kills you?” Your voice broke, and you heard the chair scraping against the floor before Law’s strong arms wrapped around your body, trying to tether you and ground you back. To keep you from spiraling.

“Almost, love. We’ll be free. Soon. Trust me.”

-*-

“You have three seconds, doll.” Doflamingo’s voice sounds dangerous, unhinged, and maniacal. You sob, locking eyes with Law again and shaking your own head. You were never strong enough for this.

You will never be able to live without him.

No matter how selfish that may sound.

“One…” The barrel presses harder against Law’s head. “Two…”

“I love you.” Law whispers as you cry harder, your head falling forward and your shoulders wracking with heavy gasps, not even the pain radiating in your shoulder is strong enough to stop the tears.

“Three.”

“It was me! It was me! It was always me, not Law! Don’t kill him, don’t! He didn’t know anything about it!”

It’s desperate. It's a hollow lie. But maybe he’ll buy it.

“You?”

“She’s lying! We don’t know anything about it!” Law rages, trying to move, but Doflamingo grips the scruff of his jacket, forcing him still as he steadies the gun against Law's head.

“Well, fuck me.” Doffy states. “Guess you’re going to have to die, then, princesa.”

“No! It’s not her!” Law thrashes and you whimper.

“Is it you, then?” Doflamingo lowers his head, his lips hovering near Law’s ear. “After all I’ve done for you, after what I’ve taught you, after I’ve raised you? This is how you repay me?” You can't quite discern if what you perceive in Doflamingo's voice is disdain or disbelief. Either way he's upset. And he's taking it out on Law.

“It’s not him!” You keep pleading, but neither of the men are paying attention to you now. “Doflamingo, listen to me. Leave Law alone!”

Law turns his face to the side, facing Doffy, the most unhinged and satisfied smirk spreading on his lips, even as sweat beads fall from his temple down his face. “It was always me, Uncle. I've wanted you behind bars ever since you killed Cora. I carried on the mission he started. I finished it.”

It’s clear Doflamingo was expecting that confession, but he still looks taken-aback. His smirk turns quickly into a scowl as he bares his teeth.

“I hate you, Doflamingo. I loathe you with every fiber of my being. And you will rot in prison like the vermin you are.”

Doflamingo straightens up, his throat bobbing up and down as he fixes his glasses and suit.

“Not before I kill you, dear Nephew.” He sighs heavily. “This was quite the disappointment. Go on, then, go meet my dear brother.” He raises his gun again, the barrel pointed directly at Law’s head and as he speaks, you know he’s addressing you, even though his eyes are locked with his uncle’s.

“I have no regrets. I would do it all over again.”

“Stop… stop… please… anyone… please…” You plead, your chest hurting, your vision blurring. You can’t lose him, you can’t. “Law…”

The bang is deafening. It reverberates around the space, clinging to the room like thick fog. You don’t have any more strength to cry, to shout or even to speak. So you close your eyes, tears dropping in an endless torrent.

It’s over.

It’s all over.

You just hope you’re next so you can meet Law in the afterlife.

…

……

………

“Open your eyes, love. Let me see your wounds, you’re bleeding too much.”

“Law?” It can’t be. “Law! What happened?” You look around the room, Doflamingo is sprawled on the floor, a bullet wound in his forehead, blood dripping in a very thin line and tainting his blond locks.

“A sniper, I’d guess. The window’s shattered and I heard screaming outside. The police must be storming the place. They’ll find us soon. Keep still.”

But you can’t. You want to hold him, hug him, find out if he’s real.

“Untie me, Law!” With a soft chuckle he presses his forehead against yours for a second before kissing the same spot and untying your wrists. You don’t mind the sharp stab of pain that travels through your arm or the swell in your chest as you hug Law tight against you.

“You did it, Law. He’s gone. He’s gone.” You manage to say between sobs and kisses.

“He should’ve spent the rest of his life in prison, but I’m not going to complain. You’re alive, love.”

“You’re alive.” You sigh, cupping his cheek in your bloody hands. “I knew my trust wasn’t misplaced. I love you.”

“I love you too.” And when you kiss it's like the world stops spinning, the commotion outside the room disappears and the pain ceases. All that exists, all that matters is Law. And the way he completes you.

There was a time where you had a lifetime of regrets and yet you had barely lived. Now you have faced death and the inevitability of living a hollow life without the presence of your other half. You've found the person that makes everything worth it and you helped him in his quest for justice and righteousness.

You've lived.

And you have no regrets left. Only trust.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache

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inkedinshadows · 12 hours ago

Text

In the Arms of Dawn

Pairing: Cassian x f!reader

A/N: aaa I'm finally sharing these eheh! Thank you @anarchiii for this request, I loved writing it (and hopefully it's enough to be forgiven for my last fic?🥺) As usual, I yapped lol

Prompts: "Get up. This is not place to die." + "I don't know how to do this without you." + "Don't tempt me." + angst + smut

Warnings: blood, injuries, nightmares, oral (f receiving), p in v

Word count: 2.3k

Cassian lay on the ground, bleeding profusely from a gash in his stomach.

His hands pressed down on the wound, but blood seeped through his fingers and pooled beneath him, staining the dusty ground.

Your own hands were covered in red from trying to help him, but to no avail. You didn't have healing magic and you couldn't even winnow. The battle still raged not too far from where you had managed to drag him, and you had no idea where Rhys, Azriel, or even Mor were. No one was coming to help you save your mate.

“You can't die,” you pleaded, cradling his face between your hands, not caring that you were smearing his cheeks with blood.

His eyes fluttered open, but all that escaped his lips was a groan.

“You can't die,” you repeated. “Cass, please…”

The tears you had been trying to hold back finally spilled over and rolled down your cheeks, but you refused to let that stop you. You would find a way to save him. You had no idea how, but begging and pleading wouldn't get you anywhere.

“You have to leave,” Cassian rasped, his pained gaze meeting your desperate one. His breaths came in sharp pants, but he still forced the words out. “Get somewhere… somewhere safe.”

A flicker of anger sparked in your chest. “Don't start,” you snapped. “I'm not abandoning you.”

“Y/N…” he tried again, but you shook your head before he could say another word.

“No.”

A new determination took hold of you. Cassian wasn't going to die—not on your watch. But you had to be strong for both of you before the situation became even worse.

“Get up,” you ordered, your voice now steady and firm. You wiped away your tears, probably smearing some of his blood on your face, but you didn't care. “This is no place to die. Now get up.”

Cassian blinked once in confusion at your sudden change of approach before attempting to move, pushing himself up on one elbow. It was all he could manage with one hand still pressed tightly to his stomach.

“I… I can't,” he groaned. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, as if that small movement had drained what little strength he had left. “I'm sorry…”

Fine, then. If he couldn't get up on his own, you would carry him back to camp. He was too tall and heavy for you to make it on your own, and it would have been a struggle even without the broken wing dragging behind him, but you'd be damned if you gave up on him.

“Alright,” you breathed. “We'll find another way.”

You studied him—the larger wounds, the smaller ones, the right place to put your hands so you could lift him. In the end, you settled on placing one of his arms around your shoulders and wrapping one of yours around his waist.

“I need you to help me with this, okay?” you urged him. You waited for him to nod before continuing. “On three, we stand up. Can you do that?”

Cassian nodded again, though weakly. “I'll try.”

You counted slowly, giving him time to gather a little more strength, and then you both pushed up with your legs. Cassian let out an agonized scream and you stumbled under his weight, but you held on. Your arm tightened around his waist while your other hand gripped the arm he'd draped around your shoulders.

But you were shorter than him and carrying the full weight of a grown Illyrian warrior all the way back to camp seemed impossible.

“One step at a time,” you decided. “But we have to move fast. You just keep your hand on that wound, alright?”

You had no idea how you kept your voice so steady as you took charge of the situation. Maybe it was desperation pushing you to act—to use your brain instead of simply crying like you wanted to do.

To his credit, Cassian tried. He was struggling, you knew that. Each step drew a pained groan from his throat and his wings dragged through the dirt. Blood still spilled from his stomach like water from a leaking faucet. But you both pushed on.

You didn't make it far.

Cassian's steps faltered after only a few feet. “My love…” he croaked, and then he was slumping forward—so suddenly that you didn't have time to steady him.

He collapsed to the ground with a thud and a whimper. You dropped to your knees beside him, turning him onto his back so you could help him up again.

But his eyes were closed and he was panting. You placed your hands over his, pressing down on the gash. His warm, sticky blood coated your fingers once more.

“Cassian,” you called, somehow managing to not lose control—yet. “Cassian, c'mon, open your eyes.”

His lids fluttered, but they didn't open. He didn't say a word. And as the gravity of the situation sank in, so did the despair.

You couldn't get him back on his feet without his help. And even if you did, the camp was half a mile away. You wouldn't get there in time to make a difference. You probably wouldn't get there at all.

“Open your eyes, Cassian,” you tried again, your voice now carrying a hint of the desperation twisting your gut. “Just open your eyes…”

Nothing. No movement, no response. And then you realized—he had passed out from blood loss.

At least he was still breathing. At least you had that.

But what could you do now?

“Please don't die,” you whispered, tears spilling over once more. You rested your head on his chest to listen to the faint, unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Please, I… I don't know how to do this without you…”

Cassian's voice rang in your head like an echo. “Open your eyes.”

You shook your head, eyes still shut as you held him close. His voice sounded so far away, like he was already slipping away from your grasp. And why was he asking you to open your eyes when he was the one who wouldn't?

Then you heard it again, but this time it was all around you, as if he were whispering in your ear but also shouting from afar.

He was repeating your name. Over and over, like a plea.

And then, two more words.

“Y/N, wake up!”

With a jolt, your eyes snapped open. Cassian hovered over you in the faint morning light, his hands on your shoulders as he tried to shake you awake. A wave of relief washed over his concerned expression when he realized he had finally pulled you from your sleep.

“You're alright, sweetheart,” he reassured you. His thumbs brushed your cheeks and you realized only then that you were crying. “It was just a nightmare.”

You threw your arms around him, pulling him back down next to you. You curled up against his chest and buried your face in the crook of his neck while he wrapped you in his arms. His warmth and familiar scent seeped into your senses, soothing you just a little.

For the past ten days, you hadn't been able to shake the feeling that this was the dream: being here with him, both of you alive and well. It had taken him a whole week to heal and you'd spent the entire time next to his bed. But he had been barely conscious, and the nightmares had come to haunt your sleep. It was always the same memory, over and over again.

As soon as he was back on his feet, Cassian had taken you to the secluded cabin in the woods you'd bought together years ago. But even spending the last few nights snuggled up with him had done little to help—to the point that you didn't need to say a single word for him to know what the nightmare was about.

“I'm right here,” he murmured into your hair. “Az found us in time, remember? I didn't die.”

You could feel his pulse from where your head rested against his neck. You let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat envelop you like a reassuring reminder of the life still thrumming inside him, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

Cassian stroked your hair and your back, leaving gentle kisses on the crown of your head and whispering tender words in your ear. He gave you time to sort your thoughts out on your own, but he was still there for you, whatever you needed. Just like he always was.

“I guess I’m still scared sometimes,” you whispered after a few minutes. “That the nightmare is real and that this…” You gestured to your entangled bodies. “This is the dream.”

His hands cupped your cheek, lifting your head from the crook of his neck. His eyes were soft when they met yours.

“This isn’t a dream, sweetheart. It’s real.” He peppered your face with kisses, from your temple to your lips. “And I can prove it to you.”

Despite the small smile his onslaught of kisses brought to your face, you frowned. “How?”

Cassian just smirked, and you had to hold back a laugh as you shook your head. “Don’t tempt me, Cass.”

He looked surprised at your response. Pulling back slightly, he raised his brows. “Wait,” he said, “you would be up for it?”

He had been clearly joking then, if your reply had caught him off guard. But as you thought it over, you wouldn’t say no to some intimate time with him. Cuddling was nice, but maybe this was what you needed to stop the memories from haunting you. Cauldron knew how long it had been since the last time you had slept together.

“As you said,” you replied with a smile, “it’s a good way to prove that this is real. And I also miss it.”

Cassian’s eyes lit up and he pulled you closer. “Then let me prove just how real and alive I am,” he murmured against your lips before claiming them in a deep kiss.

He pushed off the sheets and rolled onto you, caging you between his body and the mattress. His mouth moved to your collarbone and you let it ground you in the present, in this very moment. Your mate was here, kissing you, touching you, slowly pushing your nightgown up.

You lifted your arms to help him take it off and his hands caressed your body as he leaned back to kneel between your legs. You watched him pull off his shirt, but your eyes immediately settled on the new scar on his stomach. You had seen it before, but something twisted in your gut anyway.

Cassian noticed the direction of your gaze and covered it with a broad hand. “Hey,” he said quietly, waiting for you to look up at him before he went on. “Don’t think about it, sweetheart. I promise I’m fine.”

He dipped his head between your parted legs, leaving a trail of kisses on your inner thigh, each one sending a shiver through you. “Just focus on me, okay?”

You nodded, trying to relax more. You knew he was right. He was fine now. Yet clearing your mind was easier said than done.

Until Cassian’s tongue flicked out.

He took his time, pleasuring you with slow, deliberate strokes. His hands caressed up and down your thighs before they settled on your hips, his touch firm yet reverent. The lingering tension in your body melted away with every lick, every brush of his fingers, until quiet moans filled the room and the only thing you could think of was his skilled mouth working you toward release.

But Cassian pulled away too soon.

He crawled back up your body, bracing himself on his elbows at the sides of your head, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. “Have I proven it yet?”

You hummed, brows knitted together as you pretended to think about it. “No, not really,” you answered with a teasing smile. “I think I need more evidence before I make my decision.”

“Do you now?” he countered, his smirk only growing. He shifted slightly, and then you felt him—his cock, hard and ready, pressing against your core. With a shallow thrust, he pushed inside, drawing a little whimper from you. “Is this what you were thinking?”

“Exactly this,” you murmured. You pulled him down for a kiss and when your lips touched, Cassian began to move.

It was slow, as if you were both trying to reconnect with each other. His hands caressed your face, your hair, while yours roamed his back, pulling him close like you never wanted to let go. His wings cast deep shadows across the room, blocking out most of the shy rays of the rising sun, and an ethereal golden light danced across his beautiful features.

If it weren't for the pleasure rising inside you as you moved together, you would have sworn this was just another dream. But now you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was real.

“I love you,” you breathed in between kisses.

Cassian pulled back enough to look into your eyes. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he murmured, punctuating his words with a deep thrust.

You moaned, but the sound was swallowed by another kiss. And as Cassian made love to you, you knew the memories would finally remain where they belonged.

Not in the present, waking you in the middle of the night.

But in the past.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

#cassian #cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian angst #cassian fluff #cassian acotar #cassian fic #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #sarah j maas #angst #smut #one shot #fanfiction

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cynthiav06 · 2 days ago

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Does Percy ever have any trauma from Gabe?

I mean, in Tartarus, he says it smells like Gabe and I cannot fail to acknowledge his self-esteem issues which Gabe contributed to, but I mean more specific trauma like hating beer and gambling, etc. Something like that?

Percy has suffered due to Gabe for a long time, which contributes quite a lot to his trauma. You see, Rirodan was writing a children's book, and he didn't want to go down too many uncomfortable details, but the signs were there. A lot of them. And despite the canon's inconsistencies, Gabe is at least mentioned in accurate context every small time that he is referenced.

Rick, however, just to be safe, makes Percy's personality so that Percy avoids thinking of Gabe, and rightfully so. Let's take this slow. Because two important things, Percy's situation in the first book and all his issues are due to Gabe and, of course, he carries forward trauma from those situations, so what are they?

Physical abuse is a part that is usually glossed over by the readers to some extent, even though it's in the first book. What I am trying to say is it is always acknowledged that Percy was abused, but rarely does the fandom go down the rabbit hole of specifics. If you see it once, you won't stop seeing it.

Gabe has both verbally and physically abused Percy so much that he has an extreme amount of self-esteem issues and a self-depreciating personality.

Not only did Gabe abuse Percy, but he also made Percy work part-time jobs or side hustles just to get extra money from Percy. Mind you, Percy was barely 12 in the first book, probably still 11, and this had been going for a while.

If that wasn't enough Gabe controlled the budget of the family, not allowing Sally to spend more than he allowed and he splurged most money gambling so Percy grew up in very poor conditions but was sent to boarding schools with rich people which led to a lot of bullying from their end. Since Percy fought back, he somehow earned the per usual misnomer of being a troubled kid.

Cue all his expulsions. Some may be due to monster business, but most were definitely due to Percy fighting against bullies. Why is that notable? This is the start of Percy's anger issues. Percy has a lot of repressed anger from home due to Gabe and not being able to fight him (he hasn't tapped into his power yet, at least not enough of it). Plus, the bullies and horrible living conditions all contribute to Percy's attitude.

Now, if you remember, in Book 1, Gabe threatens Percy severely so that he won't harm his car. But Percy was 12, and he himself says he wasn't going to be driving, but that wouldn't stop Gabe from blaming him. This means Gabe blamed Percy for everything, relevant or otherwise. We can see this in Percy's behavior when he immediately correlates every mistake as his fault and is always reflexively seen taking the blame for everything, even those that weren't his fault.

This scene actually creates a nice parallel against that scene in Book 5 where Percy is on a drive with Rachel in Paul's car and he is very suprised that Paul himself offered the car to him and didn't even impose any rules on Percy. He is however very worried when Blackjack dents the car because even though Paul is not Gabe, Percy has this natural fear against him at least subconsciously but is also very suprised when Paul doesn't get at all angry over the dent. It's such a sweet moment for Percy; he gets to learn how good fathers are.

You mentioned gambling and drinking. Percy shows great dislike for the game in book 1, but he is forced to play cause of Dionysus. He's relatively good at it but doesn't play because he associates the game with Gabe. Same for alcohol. There's a line in the book where Percy says he knows how to recognize when others have been drinking or, as Percy calls it, hitting the happy juice. Obviously, alcohol makes Percy uncomfortable in itself, and he immediately dislikes Dionysus because he is a drunkard and a poker player along with a build similar to Gabe, which makes Percy naturally dislike him greatly. It doesn't help that Dionysus is a complete asshole but his initial natural dislike of Mr. D is due to Gabe.

We all joke about how Percy is a fugitive and known terrorist in tons of states. This is all Gabe's fault. Percy gets in such problems with the law all due to Gabe and how he set literally every police department possible on Percy's trail. Now Percy, being Percy, he manipulates the officers to get on their good side, but he obviously still has problems with the law due to this entire fiasco.

The fandom likes to say that Percy got all his dark aura after Tartarus, but Percy has literally had killing intent since he was 12. One of his first lines in the book is "I am going to kill her" in reference to Nancy Bobofit. He gets gut punched by the realization that Gabe has been hitting his Mom. Gabe literally raised his hand against Sally in front of Percy in book 1. You can't tell me Percy recovered from that. He thinks then too of pulling Riptide and killing Gabe but realizes it wouldn't work on Gabe. Now Percy, who almost always means exactly what he says when talking to people, calls Gabe 'human by the loosest definition.' A 12 year old thinks that you can imagine how bad the situation was.

After Book 1, Rick heavily avoids mentioning abuse in his book cause he is trying to write for kids, but it shows.

Percy thinks of Gabe when he first accidentally iris messages in on one of his Mom's and Paul's dates. Percy is immediately suspicious, which is obviously why Sally hadn't told him anything before this. She wasn't completely sure about Paul, and she also didn't want Percy to worry. When Percy sees her laugh with Paul, he thinks of how much trouble his Mom went through with Gabe.

This is important because after Book 1 when Percy finally learns why Sally kept Gabe around in his head he twists the narrative as his Mom suffered Gabe, not that both he and Sally but only Sally suffered Gabe and why? To protect him. He BLAMES himself for something that's obviously completely not his fault. But in his head, he ends up masking his own pain and considering only Sally's pain valid. This is why Percy doesn't talk to anyone about Gabe and also why everyone thinks Gabe was a bit of a jerk but not an abuser. We literally see PERCY DO THIS TO HIMSELF. Same thing in The Last Olympian. Same thing in Mark of Athena. He talks about how his Mom suffered by staying in the awful marriage, not about himself.

Now the famous House of Hades scene. See Tartarus draws out negative emotions and experiences and worst nightmares of a person to feast on. This is very telling because despite the endless life-death situations Percy has been in ,he thinks of Gabe. Because to Percy, self suffering is no suffering at all. But his Mom suffering is the worst of all. Now Annabeth obviously doesn't get the cue because she has no idea about how Percy lived in his past. While it is true that Annabeth cannot be held responsible for not getting why Percy brought up Gabe in Tartarus and took it as Percy making a joke; a case can be made against Annabeth's lack of initiative to learn more about Percy's life before all this. I digress as that's a completely different discussion. Point stands is that Percy is so unbelievably broken yet loyal that he doesn't even consider his own pain valid.

The next mention of Gabe is directly in Chalice of the Gods. Percy rather openly thinks how much he hated family dinners with Gabe. Also, he has a very nice conversation with Sally soon after he recovers from being turned into a child, where he talks about how powerless being a child felt and how afraid he was. I am certain that the implications indicate at both monsters and Gabe and how a young Percy had been very afraid of both situations but more of Gabe than monsters. Go figure.

It's plenty clear how much trauma Percy has from Gabe and how much he has trained his mind to either avoid it or redirect it elsewhere lest he regress into bitterness and anger issues.

It's probably longer than you expected, but I like systematic exploration of points, hence the long rant. I have done my best to break it down, so it's easier to follow. Also, I am very, very happy for this ask as I really love to explore Percy's personality and Percy's powers. Feel free to send me more along this line of thought.

@fourcornersofcreation ,@hermesmyplatonicbeloved, @helenofsparta2 , @ogjacksonsimp, and @berrybore have all also made posts exploring some of Percy's trauma and they will probably have things to add as well. So please check their posts on this topic as well in case I missed anything.

#percy jackson #percy's trauma #we don't explore it enough really #sally jackson #percy and sally #gabe ugliano #tw: abuse #paul blofis #annabeth chase

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herefortarlos · 2 days ago

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Favorite 911 Lone Star Fandom Memories 🚒

Thank you @thisbuildinghasfeelings for coming up with this lovely idea and thank you @strandnreyes @nancys-braids @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @reyesstrand @she-walked-away @carlossreaders @nisbanisba @tellmegoodbye @heartstringsduet @freneticfloetry @firstprince-history-huh @carlos-in-glasses @bonheur-cafe @heartstringsduet and @goldenskykaysani for all the tags! I read every single one of you favorite moments/memories and they made me emotional and so happy and grateful to know you all and be a part of this fandom! 💖

Anyone who considers themselves a fan of the show, regardless of how engaged with fandom you are, should participate and share if you want!

rules here

Oh, where to begin?!? I am still in denial that it's coming to an end this Monday 🥲I haven't been thinking about it too much which is also why it took me a bit to write this and think of which fandom memories for me I wanted to highlight. I hope we'll all be there for each other if someone needs a little extra comfort in the days, weeks, months that follow! 💜

All the fanfiction, fanart, gifs, edits, etc. and the friends and good acquaintances made through them!

I will always be grateful to Tarlos and Lone Star because they got me to start regularly reading fics again! I used to have a 2 hour commute into NYC and I would read fanfic while sitting on the trains but doing that for 2 years unfortunately burned me out on fanfic and my previous obsession. From 2020 to late 2022, I didn't read much fic. It wasn't until I found Lone Star through FB clips and TK's iconic, "Sure ma'am but just so you know I am a homosexual", that I had found something new to obsess over and love to this degree! Tarlos and LS also brought me back to Tumblr and into fandom in the first place! After I binge watched the show up to season 3, I needed more Tarlos and so I looked through ao3 and started with tarlos fics by @rmd-writes! I saw Rae was on Tumblr and remembered that was where I used to always find fic writers to follow! So I made a new account specifically for the fandom, hello here for Tarlos 😂, and truly engaged in a fandom for the first time! I got to watch all of Season 4 live which was great, and loved seeing people's live reactions to everything on here and loved the codas, art and gif sets people made so quickly after the episode had aired!

And then of course I made fandom and lifelong friends! I started engaging in fandom by leaving unhinged and excitable tags on people's fics and works 😅, as I tend to do, and slowly started becoming mutuals with people! And then @heartstringsduet really opened me up by dming and thanking me for my tags on a fic of hers, and the rest is history 🥹. Michelle really helped me to feel open and comfortable on here and I decided to share my name with people and now I have friends that I know I'll keep in contact with despite the show ending! Some of the most kind, creative, talented, accepting and welcoming people are in this fandom and I am beyond grateful to Lone Star for introducing us! ❤️

The lead up to the Tarlos wedding!

Gahhhh, all the bts we got, and the press tour Ronen and Rafael went on and that Hello! photo shoot, pretty sure my heart stopped when we got those pictures, not to mention the 2 episode Season 4 finale! Now that was a time to be alive! It was treated like such a real wedding and there was so much amazing promotion and was definitely wedding of the year for me!

Discovering I was pansexual and being more open with my sexuality IRL!

I always knew I was queer back in college, although parts of high school definitely make more sense when I stopped to think about them 😂. But because I was in a straight presenting relationship, I never thought to be more open with my queerness? Sure I had those few friends that knew and that I could feel comfortable with, and I had 1 good fellow queer friend at the time to confide in, but I guess I was still learning things about myself and how much of me I wanted people to know? Anyways, Brian Michael Smith and Ronen's coming out story helped me to identify myself and encouraged me to be my authentic self with people! I got my first pride flag because of Lone Star, that I will continue to display outside my house to show that this is a safe place for people that need that, and have met so many diverse and other LGBTQ+ individuals because of it! And also because of that, a good irl friend of mine came out as trans to me first because she felt safe with me! So yeah, a lot of good things to thank a show like 911 Lone Star for 💗.

Finally, becoming a beta reader!

I have been so lucky and have the most fun having been a beta reader for many talented writers in this fandom! Getting to see and help people with their works before they're published, seeing lines and dialogue that I suggested go into the final fic! Without a doubt one of the best things this fandom has given me, along with the many friendships that started because of it! 💖

An OPEN and zero pressure tag for a few people that I don't think have done this yet. @reasonandfaithinharmony @ladytessa74 @carlos-tk @eclectic-sassycoweyes @paperstorm @dear-viv @whatsintheboxmh @alrightbuckaroo @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @emsprovisions @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @goodways @theghostofashton @henrygrass @lemonlyman-dotcom @guardian-angle22

#If you read all of this Damn! And you deserve a prize 😅#desi shares #favorite fandom memories #911 lone star tag game

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lara4eclipze · 16 hours ago

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» I Miss Us

sypnosis: lara was never one to be in situationships nor talking stages, she claimed it was stupid and would only end up with ones heart broken or yearning — yet here she was missing you her only situationship

warning: angst, situationship, hurt no comfort, swearing, ghosting, italics for flashbacks, etc

talks: I'm so sorry for those requests i haven't written yet BUT trust i am gonna write some and release them maybe today and tomorrow!, thank you for your patience ^^

taglist: @ohmyhaely @nyssalvr @vrtualstar @c-yerim @jellaaa @nakylvr @chuugetmesohigh

lara stared at her phone, at your conversation to be specific — it's been two months since you two have even chatted, in lara's opinion is the longest two months of her life

lara used to get excited just staying up and chatting with you — sneaking out of the dorms just to have drinks or eat out with you, it didn't matter that she could've been caught by her management — what mattered to her was you

the door to the kats shared house creeks louder than lara would've wanted — her eyes adjust to the dark environment only to make out a figure standing near the kitchen, their leader sophia

"where have you been?!, you know i have been worried sick? i called everyone including your mom!" sophia screams at lara, maybe for the first time in a while — atleast lara wants to pretend like so

in reality lara has been on sophias nerves ever since she started to talking to you — she always left without telling anyone she would be lazy in practices just so that she can chat with you

"go to your room — and whoever it is you are meeting up with, stop it lara you're getting too distracted" sophia mutters trying to keep her calm demeanor "stop telling me what to do" lara snaps back

"do it or ill tell the management team" sophia threatened, it all just stopped from that moment on — lara had to choose between her needs and wants, she walked silently to her shared room fidgeting with her phone

she debated whether to chat you or listen to sophia yet as much as she hated what she was gonna do she did it

she ghosted you.

the first week was confusing to say the least — lara who always chatted with you through every platform was now getting cold?, her usual energetic response to your chats were now replaced with "yeah" or "okay"

the second week was weird, lara had took almost 2 - 3 days just to respond to you, you double texted you had even called her a few times yet it always ended with her giving you a honestly lame excuse

the third to fourth week hurted the most, lara had fully ghosted you, she didn't respond at all, you knew she was active on her socials i mean she posted every week — she always saw your texts she just chose not to open them, you got desperate for even a drop of her attention, it got so bad to the point you tried contacting her other mutual friends

by the second month you had started to accept what had happened — you didn't wait for a notification from her user anymore, you didnt expect a miracle to happen

lara breaths heavily as she back reads on your chats — it took all of her courage not to call you during all of this, she tried and tried making herself believe that you were just a waste of time that you were just a distraction

yet every little thing makes her remember you, late night trips?, your favorite food, even your scent — it all comes back to you

maybe you were meant for eachother just not in this time not in this moment — she sighs massaging her temples, her lips pressed into a thin line as longing creeps into her

she types then deletes again, types and then deletes — maybe it was too long?, too casual? — lara over analyzed her text to you, until she just typed something simple

a notification pops up on your phone, it was 2 am who would be awake in such hour?

my laru♡: hi, how are you?

your heart sinks, everything you've worked so hard for has come down to this moment, moving on, crying even denial that she ghosted you

y/n: I'm good.

lara's mood shifts, you really are gone — the period on the end of the sentence and the proper grammar, screamed over her

my laru♡: I'm sorry, i miss us

you wanted to respond saying you do too, you missed hours and hours of taking with her — laughing at the stupidest things ever, god even that stupid nickname she had in your chats

y/n: me too.

yet as reality dawns on lara, its all a sick cycle — she could never date you, because of her career, she just wanted to pretend that it didnt matter just for a few more minutes

#katseye imagines #katseye x reader #lara raj #katseye #katseye fics #katseye lara #lara katseye

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thetadispatcher · 6 hours ago

Text

Vincent glanced at the remaining stranger in the room, deciding she likely wasn't going to do anything, and even if she did Dan was close enough to put a quick end to it.

So the AP700 allowed himself to relax and put more of his focus on watching the other android work, he'd rather concentrate on that then any thoughts that might pop into his head, as they never seemed to go anywhere good.

Hugh could easily guess Nines was already picking apart the human at the table, even if the RK900 showed no change in demeanor. It was just something the android did to new people.

"Maybe, but she is keeping Sixty occupied at the moment, which is perfectly fine with me." Nines would rather have someone keeping Sixty busy as the RK800 always seemed to like following him around, something he didn't much enjoy due to Sixty feeling the need to talk about random subjects he could care less about.

John shifted his attention from Nines to Bishop at the remark about military units. "Well, Hugh is the one who has to call you out, not me. He was built purely for combat, hence his much larger body. I was built to handle tasks given to Navy Seals, so I am capable of interrogation if need be." The android explained as Nines swapped seats with Hugh.

"I am a prototype called a Myrmidon, and Hugh is the other prototype called the Trojan." He motioned to the larger android as he took a seat back on the floor.

"I...suppose that's true." Strasky went silent as he felt he needed time to think, and he really didn't have much else he felt he needed to say, at least on the current subject.

He shifted his attention to Sixty who seemed unbothered by the subject they'd been discussing, if anything he felt the android had just tuned them out and was off in his own little world.

He had a feeling the RK800 would join them if they discussed something else, but he really didn't know what else to talk about, or even what Sixty would like talking about. The android hadn't dropped any hints at his personal preferences, and he seemed to like jumping into discussions rather then starting them. So Strasky decided he'd leave the android to his own devices for the time being, they really didn't need Sixty's help with anything anyways.

"Maybe, it's hard for me to say if they will." Dan may have seen the interactions Strasky had with his coworkers, but he wasn't about to judge them based on that alone. He'd been around enough humans to know some could lie and act very well, without any thought as to how it might affect someone if they found out.

"Does she listen in on your conversations a lo-AH!" Dan cut himself off with a startled yell as he turned his head, finally catching sight of the android that had walked up behind him. The PL600 promptly punched through the basement wall, barely stopping himself from hitting his intended target.

The android seemed unbothered as he stood patiently, looking expectantly at Dan.

Dan jerked his arm free of the wall as his LED started flashing yellow, quickly answering the androids contacting him that everything was fine and no one had been hurt. "I-god damn it-hi..." He turned his focus to the other android, looking mildly annoyed as he took the notepad from the other unit to write on it, then handed it back.

He watched the other android nod then hurried off happily, shaking his head with a sigh before looking at the hole he'd punched through the brickwork. "Sorry about that." He apologized as he turned back to Rook. "That can be fixed, it's...fine, I guess. Not the first time I've caused property damage, and definitely won't be the last." Usually the damage was just Dan ripping off doors, but maybe the construction androids would be happy to know they didn't have to fix another door.

The android seemed satisfied nonetheless. He wasn't a master at conversation either and was fine as long as Vincent gave him enough to understand what he meant.

If he was comfortable with just a few words, Vincent could also get there eventually and it'd be fine.

Now he just had to not mess this design up.

Bishop only slightly nodded at the explanation. He still had to keep up the facade to not let himself get away.

"Very well. Although, in the future, you should go after the pink cyborg that came along with us. She might provide a fairer challenge."

Or she would cheat by messing with Nines' circuits, which was just fine with him as well.

"Though I take it military models aren’t that well trained to handle interrogations."

He might as well throw in a little jab at John as well.

"Let’s not worry about the details now. What matters is that you keep trying and remind yourself that there are people who like you exactly the way you are." Willow replied, before tilting her head slightly, "You escaped the WAU. It'd be a shame if you'd now be lost to those doubts that are tormenting you."

With that, she went back to browsing the plushies.

"It's good you're telling me these things. I've got my phone here, Willow's probably listening too." Rook said, "At least now I know I'm not the problem. I guess figuring this out will be the next step once his friends are sorted out. Maybe they'll finally return the favor and take care of the guy who erased himself to worry about their problems instead."

#kingedbishop

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bubblegumrabbitwriting · 2 days ago

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I scrolled and scrolled and didn't see this so here i am. Lol

Hiiiiii. I hope your week has been rainbows, sunshine, and all things good. 💖

How would the ROs react to seeing a mark on mcs neck assuming it's a hickey while it's just a bug bite. Deeeeep crushing stage.

This one floated to all the writing blogs, so maybe you have done it, and I'm just a blind person, lol

Hello!

My week has been good, other than work kicking my ass but that could litterally be almost everyday of my life. Hope your week has been good 💖

I have not answered this yet but it's one of my faviourite blog questions. 😊

Reactions below

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Echo -

She is talking to the MC as normal until she notices the supposed hickey and stops in her tracks, an emotion flaring in her that she knows too well. Jealously. Leaning closer, she inspects MC's neck; when MC tries to ask what she's doing, she just raises her hand to stop them.

"What is that doing there?" Points to the MC's neck, already knowing the answer but hoping that actually hearing it from the MC's mouth might calm her heart slightly, stop the emotions raging within her. When told it's a bug bite, she instantly goes back to normal, recommending bug sprays and other antidotes to help the swelling. Inside she is actively imagining how it feels to leave a hickey on MC, her ears blushing at the thought.

Cy -

Sees the supposed hickey, death glare at MC neck. The rest of the day they are quiet, constantly staring at the spot and making sure that they are positioned where they can see, like they can scare it off MC's body. Stuck between hurt and understanding. They missed their chance with the MC, letting it fall through their fingers like sand; they have no right to be upset, but the ache in their heart just won't die down.

When confronted, they will crumble and act as petty as possible to protect themself, pointing to the spot. "Were you thinking of me when you got...that? Just to let you know, I would have been 100 times better." When told it's a bug bite, instantly their face is covered in a blush; they're running for the nearest exit without an explanation.

A -

Sees the hickey, shock, annoyance, and maybe a slight smidge of jealousy. Not that any of it shows on their face. Waits for MC to be distracted by something and sneaks up behind them, analysing the hickey with a critical eye. Make's sure to leave another next to it even bigger. When the MC turns around, they just grin at them. "Sorry, I thought you were an open buffet."

When told it's just a bug bite, they just continue to grin at MC. "Do you want me to kiss it better?" By the end of the day, it is an actual hickey.

Salem -

Soon as she sees the MC's neck, she goes into detective mode. Analysing the MC's body language and movements with a straight face. Trying to figure out if her worst thoughts might be true. Will start asking the MC questions in a thinly veiled integration. Where were you last night? Did you meet anyone new?, etc.

If the MC catches on and asks what's wrong, she will just say that she's not the one with something wrong and point to the MC's neck. As soon as she knows it's a bug bite, she's embarrassed and questioning her own skills at deduction. Will avoid the MC for the rest of the day and spill everything to Harper when they are alone.

Harper -

Sees the supposed hickey and instantly reverts back into their shell, won't know how to interact with the MC for the rest of the day in case of randomly blurting something out. Mentally scolding themself the whole time for not trying to tell the MC their feelings when they could, going to take a prep talk from Salem to actually build up enough confidence to talk to the MC about it.

Goes to speak with the MC and instantly starts questioning the decision, just lets out a hurried. "I-if you're going to be...interacting with people, p-please be careful.". When the MC tells them it's a bug bite, they instantly blush and start rambling. "W-well that's good then, n-not good that you got bit—" Ends up running away and hiding until MC or Salem finds them.

Thank you for the ask and hope you enjoy 😊

#blink_if #ask #interactive fiction #br: c #b: mc #if wip #writing #br: echo #br: harper #br: salem #br: a #dashingdon #cogdemos

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maretinelli · 1 day ago

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NOTHING WITHOUT YOU

DadDaniel Ricciardo X Mom!fem!reader

Summary: When Y/n and Daniel's first daughter is born and everyone's feelings are on edge for having such a sweet and cute little girl like Anne.

Words: 1.9K+

Warnings: Nothing. Just cute, cute, cute. And newborn baby.

Author: English is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes that may appear in the story. I love, love, love writing about babies.🥹 This could also be part of the universe of "OUR GIRLS" and I will be writing more about them. But you can also read them separately, no problem!

MASTERLIST

The room was silent, lit only by the soft light of the room. The air still carried the energy of what had happened a few hours ago, when Anne had finally arrived into the world after 14 hours of labor. Now, time seemed to slow down as Daniel held the little girl in his arms, completely enchanted. As he walked around the room with the baby in his arms.

Y/n was lying in bed, her muscles still sore and her body exhausted, but nothing could take away the happiness that filled her chest. She watched Daniel with Anne, seeing the sparkle in his eyes as he held his daughter as if she were the most precious thing in the universe.

He stroked the baby's rosy cheek with his thumb, his face plastered with a tender smile. Even asleep, Anne looked peaceful, her chest rising and falling in a delicate rhythm of breathing.

"You have no idea how much I love you already, little girl" Daniel whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I thought I knew what happiness was, but then you came along and... well, now I know I was wrong."

He blinked a few times, trying to hold back the tears, but he was unsuccessful. One slipped down his face and, before it fell on the baby, he quickly wiped it away.

"Damn, I have to be careful, don't I? Soon you'll be bathing in Daddy's tears."

Y/n let out a weak laugh, joy filling her heart even more. Daniel looked at her with a guilty but tender smile.

"Tell me, love, how is it possible to love such a small person so much?"

Y/n sighed, feeling her eyes well up too. Yes, she was exhausted. Every muscle in her body remembered the effort it had taken to bring Anne into the world. But if she had to go through it all again, she would do it without hesitation, just to have that moment, to feel the warmth of her daughter in her arms and see Daniel completely in love with the baby they had made together.

"I don't know either, but I feel exactly the same way," she murmured, her eyes fixed on Anne. "And I would do it all over again, without thinking twice, just to have her here in our arms again, my love."

Daniel smiles at his wife, stopping his pacing for a moment in the room. But then he looks back at the baby in his arms. Totally enchanted.

"She has as much hair as you do" Y/n commented with a tender smile.

"And her mouth," Daniel countered. "Which means we're going to have problems when she grows up, because that girl is going to be too beautiful."

Y/n laughed, and Daniel approached to steal a quick kiss from his wife before looking back at Anne, still impressed by the little life that was now part of them.

He never imagined he could feel something so strong. Anne had just arrived, but she had already changed everything. And he didn't want it to be any different.

And then, Daniel approaches his wife in bed and bends down to hand over his daughter, who was a little restless in his lap, probably hungry again.

"Well...our life changes" He begins, as soon as he makes sure that Y/n had taken Anne in her arms. "How did we live without you all this time?" The pilot asks his daughter, as if she had a good answer. And then the tears of happiness end up falling from Daniel's eyes. "How did me and mommy live without you all these years?"

At that moment, the words filled with emotion hit Y/n hard, and at that moment, tears came violently. Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe it was the overwhelming love she felt for that little girl. Or maybe it was the way her husband spoke, completely surrendered to his father's love.

"We were practically nothing without you, daughter" She whispers, smiling at Anne.

Daniel let out a light laugh, shaking his head. He quickly wiped his tears with the back of his hand and looked at Y/n with a goofy smile. "If someone told me I would cry this much after becoming a father, I would never have believed them."

Y/n laughed softly, still feeling the tears flow, but unable to stop herself from smiling. "I think it's going to be like this forever, Danny. Welcome to fatherhood."

The hospital room was delicately decorated, filled with pink balloons, sent by family and friends as soon as they found out that Y/n was on her way to give birth.

Some balloons had messages written in bright letters, such as 'Welcome to the world, Anne!' and 'Congratulations, Mommy and Daddy!', making it clear how much that little girl was loved even before she was born.

On the table next to the bed was a handwritten card from Y/n's parents, congratulating them and mentioning how they were forming a beautiful family. Next to it, a large pink teddy bear lay, a special gift they had sent along.

Anne was already fed and comfortable in Y/n's arms, and now her small, warm body was beginning to relax. His eyes slowly closed, surrendering to peaceful sleep.

Daniel sat in the armchair next to Y/n, watching his daughter with an enchanted smile. His chest filled with an almost surreal pride every time he looked at Anne. It was hard to believe that this little girl was theirs.

"You have no idea how many people are eager to meet you, my girl," Daniel began, leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair as he looked at the baby. "Grandpa and Grandma are already counting down the minutes. Your uncles and aunts too. Lando sent a message saying he wants to teach you how to drive before you even learn how to walk... but, well, he can just sit there and wait."

Y/n let out a low laugh and shook her head. "For God's sake, I hope he's joking," Ella said, still not taking her eyes off Anne.

Daniel smiled and leaned a little closer to his wife and daughter. "And you know, little one, there's a very special place you're going to get to see. The paddock. It's where mommy and daddy spend most of their time... and I can't wait to take you there." He paused, his eyes full of affection, before continuing. "You'll love it, I'm sure. But I'll warn you right now that when you're a baby, they'll carry you everywhere. And if you take after mommy, you'll be the smartest little person on that grid."

Y/n smiled, feeling her heart melt. She could already imagine Daniel holding Anne in the pits, protecting her from the loud noises with a special headset, and the photographers capturing that unforgettable moment.

As if she were hearing everything, Anne, even though she was asleep, opened her tiny mouth in an involuntary smile.

Daniel's eyes widened and he let out a low laugh, pointing at his daughter excitedly. "Look at that! She's already excited to be part of the racing world!" He joked, his eyes shining with happiness.

Y/n laughed, feeling a wave of love run through her body. "You don't miss one, do you, Ricciardo?" She teased, stroking the baby's soft strands of hair.

"Never." He says looking at his wife. Nothing less than a loving and grateful look. Thankful for the sweet and cute little girl they had.

The pilot approaches his wife and places a warm kiss on her forehead. Y/n closes her eyes for a second, feeling the warmth of that kiss and letting herself be enveloped by the peace of that moment.

He then lays his head on his wife's shoulder, both looking at their daughter. "I still can't believe we did this."

Y/n chuckles softly. "We did. And look how perfect she is."

"Yes she is!"

Daniel sighed, still resting his head on Y/n's shoulder, and smiled as he watched Anne sleep so peacefully. "You know what's crazy? I thought I had already lived the best moments of my life... but then you showed up. And then her."

Y/n turned her face slightly to look at him, feeling her heart warm. "You say it like I just appeared out of nowhere."

He chuckled softly, pressing a quick kiss to her shoulder. "Well, you kind of came out of nowhere and messed everything up, but in the best way possible."

She rolled her eyes, laughing. "Daniel Ricciardo, always over the top."

The pilot lifted his head and looked at her with a small but affectionate smile. "Not this time. Because honestly, I don't know what I did to deserve you two."

Y/n felt her eyes well up again, but this time it wasn't just emotion, but genuine happiness. "Well, if it's any consolation, I think Anne and I are pretty happy to have you too."

Daniel smiled, leaning down to kiss the tip of his wife's nose before looking back at his daughter. "She doesn't even know how lucky she is to have you as a mommy."

Y/n gently caressed Anne's tiny back, feeling her chest explode with love. "And she has no idea that she has the best father in the world."

Daniel let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "We're going to be those parents who cry every time she has a first, aren't we?"

Y/n laughed, nodding. "Absolutely. The first time she crawls, her first word, the first day of school... and don't get me started on the day she actually drives, because then I can't guarantee you won't freak out."

Daniel's eyes widened, feigning despair. "I don't want to think about it! To me, she'll always be this tiny thing that fits in my arms."

Y/n smiled, squeezing her husband's hand lightly. "Well, we have time until then. For now, we just need to enjoy every second with her."

Daniel agreed, letting himself get lost once again in the sight of his daughter sleeping so peacefully. His heart felt like it was going to explode with love.

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Never, in all his years of racing, winning and adrenaline, had he felt anything as intense as that moment. And he knew, with all the certainty in the world, that nothing would surpass the happiness of having his family by his side.

"We'll handle this, won't we?" He whispered with a light laugh, his voice low and soft.

Y/n smiled, feeling the familiarity in that gesture, as if, despite the change Anne had brought to their lives, there was still a great connection between the two.

"Of course. We always manage to get things done, don't we? We're a team."

"A good team," he agreed, looking at her with a slight smile. "But if you need a break, just let me know. We'll share everything... even if it means I stay up at night with her." Daniel made a funny face, winking at Y/n. "I'm great with babies. I've learned, I swear."

Y/n chuckled softly. "I'm starting to believe it, Ricciardo. But I'm going to hold you accountable, okay? I want to see that fatherly talent in action."

"Leave it to me. I'll find some good excuses to do the hard work," the pilot joked, giving her a light nudge.

She looked at him fondly, and for a moment, the weight of everything seemed to have disappeared, leaving only the joy of being together, forming a family. "I love you, Danny." She said it simply, but full of meaning.

"I love you, Y/n"

#fanfiction #y/n #imagines #marriage #one shot #formula 1 #formula one #fem reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x female reader #romance #dad and daughter

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henrygrass · 1 day ago

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9-1-1: Lone Star - Favorite Fandom Moments

Thank you @thisbuildinghasfeelings for coming up with this lovely idea, and for the tags @everlastingday @reyesstrand @carlossreaders @nisbanisba @tellmegoodbye @heartstringsduet @firstprince-history-huh @bonheur-cafe @carlos-in-glasses @chicgeekgirl89 @herefortarlos!

I haven't been part of the fandom for long; I joined somewhere at the end of October 2024, and I still consider myself new. Sometimes, I feel a little like an outsider, which has nothing to do with you all. You have been wonderful and supportive, truly!

Discovering Tarlos and Fanfiction

While I joined in October, I actually discovered 911LS in April 2024 when I, feeling bored, decided to type 'gay' into my Disney+ search. I wish I could say I saw a clip somewhere that made me look into 911LS, but nope, it was just me typing 'gay.' Who would have thought that I would fall in love with Tarlos and the whole bunch? Not me! I have never felt this way about any movie, TV show, or book—never. I binged the first four seasons and then rewatched them all right after finishing. Around July, I started wanting more. Now, I knew fanfiction existed; I just never got into it and never had the drive to read fan-created content until I came across a post on Reddit about Tarlos fanfictions. Missing Moments by @paperstorm was right there, and thus my Ao3 journey began.

Writing My Own Fics and Joining Tumblr

After reading various works, I started wanting to share my own. I had never written anything more than a couple of pages of random scenes, but I had this very clear idea in my mind for a Tarlos fic, so I just tried writing it. English is not my native language, and it was my first time writing a story in English, so my anxiety was through the roof when I decided to post the first chapter of Weep Not for Me. I kept telling myself that it was okay if people didn't like it, but then people did like it! I was elated at how welcoming the fandom is, and while Ao3 was great, joining Tumblr was the icing on the cake.

Now, she doesn't know this (I think), but the main reason this account even exists is @nisbanisba. I recognized her from Ao3, formally made an actual account, and followed her on here. Thanks to her, I got to connect with so many people! I'm always amazed by how different this corner of the internet is from my past experiences—how nice people are, even to newcomers and strangers like me.

Watching Season 5 Live

It's such a great experience to read everyone's thoughts about an episode as it airs for the first time! The reactions to scenes, the comments that add depth or make me notice things I otherwise wouldn't have, the theories, and, most of all, the giggles over shared moments like Owen heroically galloping on Thunder or TK's birthday party—so many moments that I would have otherwise experienced alone, in my own bubble, but instead I enjoyed in the dead of night at 2 AM with so many of you. Special thanks to @tellmegoodbye and @ironheartwriter for the Discord server that allows me to catch these last episodes (the link I used to use stopped working, but they saved me). While it's too soon for the show to end, I'm glad I got to enjoy this last season of a show that means so much to me with everyone here.

The show may be ending, but the characters will always remain, and I hope that most (if not all) of you will continue to share this love for 911LS—whether through gifs, fics, art, music, or anything else. I know I will.

I'm not sure who has or hasn't done this so, I'll leave an open tag!

#favorite fandom memories #911 lone star tag game

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joelmillerisapunk · 9 hours ago

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MILLLLAAAAAA I have not known peace since reading this

First of all, the tension. The history. The forbidden desire just simmering under the surface, waiting to explode. Every single moment had me gripping my phone like it owed me money.

The fact that they had all this unresolved emotion and then bam—thrown into the most intimate scene imaginable??

This was SO intense, so raw, so emotional—and the way it all came back to them in the end??? Like, she wrote the script for him. She was always going to find her way back to him.

I am never recovering from this. EVER I am crying in the club, hiding in the bathroom, sobbing into my pillow. okay favorite parts timeeeee - and this is my live reaction so excuse every emotional rollercoaster I hit here....

-> WAHHHHHH FJSDKJSDKLJF already killing me goddamnit He closed it and took a moment before rereading the first page, with the name left blank. It could only be you. That was the only explanation for getting a script without the name of the author on it. And there was no way the scene he had just read, so familiar, so intimate, could be coincidental. Or could be written by anyone else. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to his agent, unable to contain his annoyance.that’s fucked up, Will*Will calling* -> OKAYY I SEE HOW IT IS YOU WANT ME TO CRY ALREADY HUH? “It’s… damn, Will, it’s our story, ok? Or a part of it, I don't know. Anyway I can’t play this. Can’t play me.”

-> WHAAAA I CANT DO THIS I CANT BUT I WILL IM SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP He didn’t know how Joel used to hold you firmly against the mattress, hands on your hips, lapping at your cunt to make you come again. Because he always wanted more, always wanted to give you more. He didn’t know that pushing his cock in you was the sweetest, most intense sensation he’d ever felt. Even now, years later, he never felt something like that again. Will didn't know any of that, had no idea how intense it had been. Because the only thing Joel told him was “you don’t bring her up. Ever.” -> she is so relatable omfg I would be doing the same You knew what he looked like, you watched all his movies. In need of his voice, his smile, his gestures, his laugh. In need of him. But seeing him for real- not through a screen but in the same room, not some character but Joel, the man you loved more than anyone else, the man you would still call “the love of your life” in your thoughts -, was breathtaking, almost surreal. -> SOBBING EXCUSE ME SIR? WTF YOU DOING SHAKING HER OFF LIKE THAT NO SIR NO SIR So you approached him, without overthinking it, but as soon as he saw you he gave you a subtle but firm shake of his head. The message was crystal clear - he didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t even want you around. It stopped your hesitant steps in their tracks, and the shy smile you had the courage to build instantly disappeared, and your gaze fell to the floor. Trying to control your breathing, to fight back the tears you felt welling up.

-> my good goddddd im dying over here i am not okay sos help me He shook his head to think about something else and to resist the urge to take the script out of the drawer. Instead, he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.

->idk Milla, i think you write the most beautiful things and you really wanna make my heart fall out of my ribcage. The writing was pure and vivid and as he was reading your point of view he felt like his ribcage was suddenly too small to contain his heartbeats.

-> ooooof THIS IS BUILDING UP OMG OMG OMG SMDFKSDA “Who do you have in mind for the female lead?” he asked finally. “Well… me,” you answered, without lowering your gaze that time.

-> stab me it might hurt less than this In tears in your car, your boxes in the back, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where Joel’s silhouette was getting smaller and smaller. Until you could no longer discern his clenched fists, his stone face. Until he was only a small dot, until he wasn't in your life anymore.

THE ENTIRE INTIMATE SCENE HOLY SMOKES IM DIZZYYYY

-> I have no thoughts just thots my brain empty but this is delicious “I can feel you clench on my fingers, you’re gonna be a good girl and come again for me?” he asked, before swirling his tongue over your clit again. “Thought about it so often,”

AND THE END AHHH IM SOBBING

Close-up

8k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: Joel receives a script that takes him back to the memories of your love story. He realizes that out of protective instinct after the break up, he has not been honest neither with his own feelings nor with you Warnings: 18+ mdni. ex lovers reunited, angst, mostly Joel pov, Joel can act cold out of defence mechanism, he has trouble accepting his own feelings, pining, slow burn, pet names (sweetheart, baby), semi public sex, just the tip, soft!joel, oral (f), piv, creampie. Pic for mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

a/n: this is written for @jolapeno 's dear-uary challenge (prompt here) thank you for this challenge Jo, and it was such a cool prompt 😍😍😍 Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for reading this one soooo many times 🥹😘💕 @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

I sent you a script, tell me what you think tell me more just read it, trust me

The informal messages between Joel and his agent, Will, were usual. They had known each other for a long time, they were friends, and Will had always found him perfect roles.

So as always, Joel trusted him- even though the first page of the script, delivered to him by a courier, was not completely filled, making him wonder why.

In the evening he put his cup on the coffee table, and lay down on the sofa, a soft light lamp behind his head. With his back leaning against the cushions, shirt, jeans, bare feet. Always the same ritual, always the same setup, when he was about to read a new script.

He started reading it, taking a sip of coffee from time to time, until his heart leapt in his chest as he got to a particular scene.

He closed it and took a moment before rereading the first page, with the name left blank.

It could only be you.

That was the only explanation for getting a script without the name of the author on it. And there was no way the scene he had just read, so familiar, so intimate, could be coincidental. Or could be written by anyone else. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to his agent, unable to contain his annoyance.

that’s fucked up, Will

*Will calling*

“Yeah,” he grumbled as he picked up, without even trying to hide his feelings, then he got up to pace the room.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, Joel. But she’s a great writer and actress, you know it. We’ve been looking for a good drama movie for a long time. This one’s perfect.”

“It’s… damn, Will, it’s our story, ok? Or a part of it, I don't know. Anyway I can’t play this. Can’t play me.”

“Joel, listen to me and think about it. No one would know. And it can be therapeutic.”

“Thera… jesus, you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Joel sighed as he hung up and threw his phone on the couch.

Why the fuck would Will do something so stupid and inconsiderate, giving him a script from you?

At the beginning of his career, his agent sent him one project for a movie in which you were expected to play too. Joel confessed that you two had been together, and added “you don’t bring her up. Ever,” to end the conversation. So Will never did.

Until today.

He sat back down on the sofa, resting his forehead on his fist, resisting the urge to throw the cup of coffee across the room. He was surprised by his own reaction, his nervousness. His anger. Barely able to control his emotions, he felt so weak, like his heart was about to tear in two again, swallowing him whole. He was affected, years later, as if it happened yesterday.

So, sure, a long time ago he asked Will not to talk about you anymore. But they might have been friends, his agent might have known about you, but he didn’t know the details. Didn’t know how profoundly the break up had hurt Joel, how much you had gotten under his skin, back then.

And in Will's defense, it wasn't like you never saw each other again, at parties or ceremonies, under Will’s gaze who thought that it wasn't that bad, after all. It was years after your separation, now having the job that both of you dreamed about, talked about, sweaty young adults in a messy bed where he had just made you come.

Will wasn't aware that it was actually that bad.

Because he didn’t know the way Joel looked at you, when you were together. He didn't know how sweet and caring Joel was with you. He didn’t know how much he loved wrapping his arms around you, and having you curl up against him.

He didn’t know how Joel used to hold you firmly against the mattress, hands on your hips, lapping at your cunt to make you come again. Because he always wanted more, always wanted to give you more.

He didn’t know that pushing his cock in you was the sweetest, most intense sensation he’d ever felt. Even now, years later, he never felt something like that again.

Will didn't know any of that, had no idea how intense it had been. Because the only thing Joel told him was “you don’t bring her up. Ever.”

The first time you saw each other again, was in a place full of actors, agents, writers and directors.

You couldn't believe he was here, a few steps away from you. Of course, you knew you'd cross paths one day, but suddenly he was closer to you than he had been in years and you felt your heart racing. He was even more handsome than he was back then, if it was even possible. You knew what he looked like, you watched all his movies. In need of his voice, his smile, his gestures, his laugh. In need of him.

But seeing him for real- not through a screen but in the same room, not some character but Joel, the man you loved more than anyone else, the man you would still call “the love of your life” in your thoughts -, was breathtaking, almost surreal.

So you approached him, without overthinking it, but as soon as he saw you he gave you a subtle but firm shake of his head. The message was crystal clear - he didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t even want you around.

It stopped your hesitant steps in their tracks, and the shy smile you had the courage to build instantly disappeared, and your gaze fell to the floor. Trying to control your breathing, to fight back the tears you felt welling up.

If you had looked up right away, you would have seen guilt sweep through his eyes. But when you finally raised your head, seconds later, he was on the other side of the room. The only thing you could see was his back, which he undoubtedly presented to you deliberately, as if his glare hadn’t been enough to make a point.

All evening, you struggled to keep conversations going, to concentrate, to think of anything other than his dark stare, furrowed brows, and the way he shook his head at you without any hesitation. For years, you had been wondering what he had thought of you, after those years. You just got the most brutal answer to that question.

The second time, a journalist had done some research and discovered that you attended the same university, graduated the same year. He took the opportunity to bring the subject as Joel was walking by. He probably hadn't seen you amongst all those people, because you were sure he would have gone the other way, otherwise. You didn’t have much choice than to kiss, feigning a friendly closeness that had never existed between you. You had been lovers, then strangers. No in-between.

His scent, so familiar, invaded your nostrils. He always wore the same perfume, the one you had given him for a birthday. It surprised you but you didn't have much time to think about it, as he ended the hug quickly.

Joel's eyes were shifty when you looked at him, a fake smile plastered on his lips. Which could probably seem real for people who didn't know him, but not for you. Not even years later. You answered the journalist's questions as best as you could, until Joel leaned towards to give you a hug that was as neutral as his eyes on you, cutting off the questions. Then he walked away, leaving you facing the journalist who was delighted with the exclusive material and oblivious to the unspoken scene that had happened in front of him.

Joel thought back to those two evenings, after he’d hung up on Will and before he’d put the script away in a drawer. He needed to regain control of his emotions, and to do that he couldn't continue reading your words, at least for now.

He went to the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee, and despite him trying, his mind wandered to lazy mornings where he would get up to make two coffees and then come back to the bedroom. He’d put them on the nightstand, before cuddling up to your warm body under the sheets, hearing you moan gently. Sometimes you would fall asleep in one of his shirts, and he loved smelling his scent on you, as if you were marked by him, somehow. It always made him feral, possessive. He didn’t know he had that side in him, until you.

You'd always grab his hand to kiss the tip of his fingers, before sliding them along your folds, feeling his cock harden against your ass and your pussy starting to drool. He would make you come with his digits, his lips against your ear, caged in his arms, then he'd slide his cock between your thighs and your soaked folds, just in time for your last spasms to squeeze his tip. Sometimes he would keep fucking you like that, lying behind you, and sometimes he would roll you on your back, taking his place between your thighs. Until he’d come, grunting, growling, his hair disheveled, and you often fall back asleep, his cock softening inside you, the cups of coffee cold on the nightstand.

He shook his head to think about something else and to resist the urge to take the script out of the drawer. Instead, he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.

The next morning he woke up groggy. He put on a t-shirt and sweatpants, poured himself a cup of coffee, and put aside his good resolutions. He didn’t need the script to think about you, anyway. Time never healed his wounds, he never forgot you or the pain he had felt when you’d left. His thoughts were always hurtful, possessive and raw.

Even years after the break up he couldn’t help but think about you when his wrist fucked his shaft. Even sometimes when he was in a relationship. He hated himself for that but couldn’t help it. He missed your cunt, your hands, everything. But he couldn’t accept the idea that he was simply missing you.

He always thought that your bodies were made for each other, and you always breathed the same words. He knew you meant it, his cock buried in you, his eyes fixed on yours rolling to the back of your head and his ears filled with your moans, barely able to tell his name.

Until it was over.

He knew it could happen, you always told him that you'd have to leave for California one day in hope to live your dream, that you couldn’t do it in Texas. But he brushed it off, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to think about it. He hid it in a corner of his mind, until he had no other choice but to face reality. Until it hit him. That day, he realized that he wouldn’t get to wrap his arms around you for the rest of his life.

He lay down on the couch and started to read. And the more he read the script, the more he realized that you wrote only the moments that had really happened.

The story, background, was slightly different, probably so that no one could ever make a connection to the two of you. But the moments were real, and it made him dizzy.

You wrote that dance in your small apartment, first for the both of you, that you rented after graduation. You worked as a waitress and Joel was a barista, and you two went to as many castings in Austin as you could, dreaming every day about being actors.

That night you put on some music and danced. He kissed your hand and looked at you. He felt warm. He loved you so much that his heart was aching. He made you spin and you laughed, and it was like a spring breeze in the apartment, filling his lungs with fresh air. When you stopped twirling you brushed his hair and then kissed him.

The writing was pure and vivid and as he was reading your point of view he felt like his ribcage was suddenly too small to contain his heartbeats.

Over the next two days, he took the script out of the drawer regularly. Slowly touching the paper that already bore the marks of repeated handling, him lying on his couch, taking his time before opening it.

He read it all, and the sweetness, the sensitivity with which you described your moments moved him profoundly. The person he had loved, cherished, cradled in his arms, wrote that.

All the intimacy, the love and care you both felt for each other were there. For several years he made everything to forget the good moments, to focus only on the ending to feed his bitterness, but the fact was that there had been so many beautiful moments. And he could read them, feel them again. Couldn’t deny them anymore.

Your words were so familiar, so true to your love story, that his anger slowly gave some place to something else: nostalgia. Finally allowing himself to miss you and what you two had. He was still wondering why you had written the script and sent it to him, but now he was ready to learn the answer. And he wanted to look you in the eye when he’d ask you this question. But he wasn't sure how he’d behave, when you met. Didn't know if bitterness or nostalgia would fill his heart.

So after two days of silence, Joel picked up his phone and sent Will a message.

Ok, set up a meeting

Because of your busy schedules you could meet only in two weeks. The delay was driving him crazy.

He made a copy of the script, his copy, which he filled with annotations, dates. Underlining moments or words erased from his mind, out of grief, anger or self-protection.

He got hard several times, while reading some scenes. And sometimes anger would come back to creep into his thoughts, whispering to him that you never should have sent it to him, when your separation had been so painful for him.

And Will was not the only one Joel said “you don’t…. ever.”

To you, it’d been “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.”

That morning, as he got used to doing several times a day, he grabbed his copy of the script. He had handled it so much that the sheets were already damaged, some pages peppered with annotations.

As he was reading, he remembered how you had loved to run your fingers over his jeans when you were watching a movie on your little couch. Playing with him, your hand going higher and higher, just to hear his breathing slow down, just to hear him murmur a needy and low “sweetheart, what are you doing?”, making you smile widely. Knowing that he would manhandle you two seconds later to be under him, pulling your panties to the side and pushing his thick length into you. He remembered the feeling of your breasts against his chest, how you whimpered in his neck while he was fucking you hard and deep.

He was nervous the morning of the meeting. He took a shower, hoping to get rid of the fatigue and headache from the lack of sleep the night before. He put on a shirt and jeans and grabbed his car keys, put on some music when he started to drive, trying to change his mind, but it didn’t work, he was still anxious. He parked near the building. Once inside he found the meeting room and knocked on the door. He heard you say “come in” and took a deep breath before twisting the handle.

You were alone, sitting in a chair, and he quickly pushed aside the thought of how pretty you were. Joel immediately noticed your hands, pressed together nervously, before you stood up to greet him. He stopped when you walked towards him and your smile faded like that time.

“Wait,” he said, his hand raised in front of him, as he was trying to control his emotions. “I just… Why did you send it to me?” he added without any preamble, his tone harsher than he intended.

“Oh… ok. Straight to the point, huh?” you said, sitting back down, and removing an imaginary crease on your sleeve, eyes lowered to the desk.

“I never…” you started to say, before stopping and taking a breath. “I think I needed to write our story down.”

Joel’s sigh stopped you. You tried to keep a low and calm tone, not to show your anxiety. You knew that facing him wouldn't be easy. He had given you a glimpse of his coldness after the situation with that journalist.

“Joel, please, listen to me.”

You looked at him, and yet you had no idea how his name, escaping your lips, tore his heart apart. He never thought he’d hear it again, and the familiar intonation made him shiver.

“I honestly think it would make a great movie,” you said. “And you must think so too, since you’re here.”

“I don’t know why I’m here, honestly. Except that I want to know why.”

“Would you have preferred to discover it once the movie was out, your role played by someone else?”

His gaze on you, dark and possessive, made you freeze.

“No, I really wouldn’t have appreciated our story, my life, played by someone else, Jesus,” he growled.

He put his hands on his hips, a stance you’d seen him do dozens of times before, searching for words, and then he sat in a chair, pinching the place just above his nose with two fingers. Trying to stop the headache that was threatening to come again. It had started off badly, and he knew it was his fault. He was too stubborn, too cold.

“Who do you have in mind for the female lead?” he asked finally.

“Well… me,” you answered, without lowering your gaze that time.

“You?”

A part of him, that he thought was gone the day you had left, woke up with a groan. He couldn't imagine the movie being made, you playing... well, you, and him being played by another man. It was unthinkable and made his jealousy and possessiveness stir painfully in his chest.

Unlike you, he hadn't watched your movies. He tried though, when he saw your face on a movie poster for the first time. He went to the cinema, but he walked out of the theater the moment that actor leaned toward you to kiss you. He couldn't stand to see someone kiss you, when he couldn't do it anymore.

“I’m the best person to play this character, aren’t I?” you said softly, interrupting his thoughts. “Just like you’re the best one to play the male lead. Look, I know you’ve been rumored for a role like this for years. I know you’re not opposed to it. So why not?”

“Because it’s not about playing a role here,” he sighed. “It’s playing in front of a camera, things we said, did, years ago. Intimate things that belong to us.”

“I changed some things, no one has to know it’s autobiographical,” you started to say, before he quickly cut you off.

“I know it is. And so do you.” He walked over to the window to stare at the buildings in front of him. “When you leave someone, you don’t do that. It’s unhealthy,” he said, almost softly. Resigned. He turned to you before adding, “Why stir up something that died years ago?”

He didn't expect to face the sadness that clouded your face, and once again guilt seized him. You were sad, upset, and despite the bitterness he’d been feeling for years, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore,” you answered, standing up and walking towards him. You stopped a few steps away to respect his boundaries, before you'd see his body stiff. “I left because I had to follow my dream, and it wasn’t working in Texas. And you wanted to stay in Austin, to take care of Tommy. We ended it because a long-distance relationship would have been too painful, because I didn’t want us to be unhappy, barely seeing each other, not being able to feel each other often enough. So I left. And I told you all that. You knew it, you knew why.”

You took a breath, after formulating what was oppressing your heart, waiting for him to answer.

“Playing with feelings is dangerous,” he said in a low voice.

“This isn’t a game, Joel. I'm not playing. I’m sure it would make a great movie. And maybe we need to express all that, even years later.”

“Do you remember what I told you that day? The last day?”

“Of course, I do. You told me not to call you. You told me that if we had to meet again… then it would happen. Well, it's happening, Joel.”

He looked at you, confused, and headed towards the door, brushing past you lightly as he passed.

Just before leaving, without looking at you, he said in a low voice, “my agent will give you my answer in a few days.”

Once the door closed behind Joel, you remembered the day you left.

In tears in your car, your boxes in the back, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where Joel’s silhouette was getting smaller and smaller. Until you could no longer discern his clenched fists, his stone face. Until he was only a small dot, until he wasn't in your life anymore.

At that moment you were wondering if you had made a mistake. You kept wondering for years. To be honest, you still weren’t sure you made the right choice that day. You followed your dream and succeeded, but it cost you the love of your life.

You didn't know what to think about the meeting. It could have been worse, he could have left after two minutes of being there, you knew it. You could have said more, too, but you didn't want Joel to withdraw more into himself. And for sure, you couldn't have told him that you always thought of him when you were in someone’s else’s arms. That you tried not to let jealousy invade you when you thought of his personal life, knowing that you had no right to be. You gave up on that when you had left.

You knew what he thought, how he reacted. Now he needed time to process everything, and you just had to wait for his agent to contact you. You couldn't do more.

Joel got to his car in a blur. He realized where he was only sitting behind the wheel, too many emotions swirling in his head. Years without seeing you and it had gone by at the speed of light. He blamed himself for being cold, blamed himself for not being cold enough, and he was even more lost than before he saw you. He started to drive, the feeling of having mishandled things weighing more and more on his shoulders.

He took another shower when he got home, as if it could wash off his remorse and regrets, the words exchanged playing over and over in his mind.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore.”

“I had to follow my dream. You wanted to stay in Austin. To take care of Tommy.”

“You knew it, you knew why.”

Did he really start to believe that the events had happened differently, after you left? Had he really done it, to the point of omitting certain things, because he needed someone to blame, to keep moving forward?

Had he really been that guy? Blaming you when there was no one to blame, just life and the choices that go with it, that we all have to do?

Had he really denied for years that you had left with a broken heart, too? That he had told you to never call him, after those wonderful years together? He felt like he was waking up with a monstrous hangover, and guilt gripped him. Truth is he let you down, and reality was hitting him hard.

Because you were right, you didn’t leave just like that. He didn’t want to acknowledge it for years, kept sweeping it under the rug, but deep down he didn’t forget it.

And you were right, he hadn’t been able to prioritize your relationship. Couldn’t prioritize himself either. He had always been protective of his brother, but it reached another level when he came back to Texas after being dismissed. Tommy wasn't the same, and Joel knew that he would have constantly wondered if his brother was okay if he had left for California with you. Worried that he could be in jail after a fight, with no one to bail him out. Or that he could be drunk in an alley, alone, spending the night there. Or worse.

“I can’t leave Tommy here alone, with all his drinking and partying,” he told you, expression determined.

“But you need to think about your future, our future too, Joel,” you replied desperately.

Joel had probably hoped that you wouldn’t have left, that you’d have chosen him, until the end. And you probably hoped the same thing, too.

Right person, wrong time. Fucking sad, but so banal.

So to forget that he was as responsible for the breakup as much as you were, he let his pain turn into anger, and he never let nostalgia set in, or his feelings show up.

And everything blew up when you sent him that script and he started reading it. It was impossible to continue to deny the obvious, to keep thinking that his feelings were stronger than yours and that’s why you had left. It was impossible to forget that he had told you, “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.” That he was the one who had cut everything off, once and for all. To protect himself, of course. But still.

So once you were gone, he did what he had to do, he took care of Tommy. Except that he started going to bars with him, at night. Drinking less than him, but still way too much. He took sleeping pills when he was obsessed with your absence, tired of squeezing your pillow way too tight in his fist, his jaw clenched with anger. He moved to a new neighborhood because he couldn't stand living in that apartment anymore where everything reminded him of you.

When they were children and then teenagers, Joel and Tommy’s father taught them to work with their hands, and it helped them to find jobs on construction sites. And that he finally pulled himself together and helped Tommy the way he had to. It took him months, but he did it, and his parents would be proud of him, of them, if they saw their sons.

He worked hard, kept doing castings when his work allowed it, and eventually it paid off, even if it took time.

He thought about it all, and realized he needed to see you again before deciding on the movie. Needed to behave normally, to let go of his mask. So he asked his agent your number, then texted you:

it’s Joel. Are you still in LA? I have some questions about the script can we meet again? I am. When do you wanna meet? tomorrow night, my place? I’ll cook Sure!

He took a deep breath as he sent you his address. He let his emotions take over on purpose, to dispel the bitter taste in his mouth since you saw each other. Now he had to trust them.

The next day he started to cook during the afternoon, the dish that he hoped was still one of your favorite. He knowingly chose to invite you over to his place, to keep his mind occupied at least while he was busy in the kitchen.

Once the dish was in the oven, he did a running session on his treadmill and showered.

Anything to keep his mind busy.

You arrived right on time, a bottle of wine in hand.

“You still like the white?” you asked.

He did. Some things never changed.

As you approached the kitchen it smelled so good that you stopped there.

“Still one of your favorite meals?” he asked.

It was.

You tried not to show that you were moved. Acts of service had always been his way of showing that he cared, and you weren’t expecting that when you showed up.

You sat down on a high stool in the kitchen and he opened the bottle of wine. You had a few sips, silently. Neither of you really knew what to say, at first. Then everything set into place, naturally, instinctively. A little shyly at first, bringing up things from your respective pasts, or present. You asked him how Tommy was doing, and he told you he was fine, that he was engaged to a woman named Maria and that they were going to be parents soon. You were happy for Tommy, sincerely. You had always liked him.

Joel was trying to act normally, to not pay too much attention to the ease with which you were chatting. How easily he opened up to you, telling you about his years in Austin, then his first ones in LA. His first roles, his doubts.

He was glancing at your hands when you weren’t looking at him. At your hair.

He loved to see your eyes shine when you were talking about something that was important to you.

But above all, he loved to see them sparkle the first time he made you smile, that evening. It hit him, how much he missed it. Making you smile.

His emotions were so familiar that his heart was beating a little too fast, like a horse freed from its reins.

And suddenly he wondered how he had been able to spend so many years without you by his side, when you had always been his sunshine, liberating his grumpy, reserved nature.

A part of his brain told him that he was smiling a little too much, but he felt more alive during those moments with you than he hadn’t been in so long.

Whether in a relationship or not.

And then he felt the atmosphere change, felt that you got nervous, an impression confirmed when you began to scratch your thumb. A habit that dated back years ago, and he'd always take you in his arms, kiss your thumb and tell you that he was there and that everything would be okay. Today, for the first time he couldn’t do all that.

“Are you ok?” he nevertheless allowed himself to ask.

“Yeah, it’s just… listen, I know you wanted to ask me about the script, but ehm... there’s something you need to know.” You took a deep breath before adding “there won’t be any movie if you don’t want to do it. If you’re not comfortable with it. I’m not saying this to put pressure on you, it's just… I just want you to know that your choice is completely free. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it, for whatever bad reason.”

“I appreciate that you’re telling me this, thank you,” he said, in a tone you couldn’t quite define, half defeated, half tender. “Listen, I wanted to apologize.”

“For what, Joel?” you asked questioningly.

“Yesterday. I didn’t really know how to handle all of it. Honestly, I’ve been overwhelmed by a lot of emotions since I read the script. Including anger.” He didn't expect to tell you that, but the need was too much to bear. He needed to make things right.

“I know. I expected it to be complicated, after our two previous meetings,” you said, without animosity or bitterness. Just being factual.

He raised his eyebrows, as if to apologize, before continuing. “I wanted to apologize for that too. My attitude.”

“That’s your way of handling things, it always has been, I should have known. But I appreciate it too, thanks Joel.”

He nodded, then added “do you think we’ll be able to do it?”

“To do what?”

“Work together. To be coworkers on a movie?”

He saw your eyebrows furrow slightly, as you took the time to think before answering.

“Well… the evening’s going pretty well, right? You haven't shook your head at me yet, to show me the door.”

“Ouch!” he replied exaggeratedly.

“Too soon?” you asked, lips curled into a smile.

“A little,” he laughed.

He enjoyed it, that little moment. You’d had so many of them before.

“Aren’t you afraid of what might happen?” he wanted to ask.

“Aren’t you afraid of reliving things, that I’ll fall madly in love with you again and that the scenes we’ll shoot, my acting, will just express the reality of my feelings?”

But he couldn’t ask you that.

He wanted to ask you if you had sent him the script because you still had feelings for him, but he couldn’t say that either.

“It’ll be a low budget movie. I mean, if we do it,” you said. There’ll be some outdoor scenes but not that many. Not many other actors either. It won’t be a long shoot.”

He nodded and said, “can I give you my answer in a couple of days?”

“Of course,” you smiled. “Thanks for the meal, it was delicious,” you said as you stood up. “You can text me if you have any questions.”

He thanked you and you complimented him on his house as you put your coat back on. His taste hadn’t changed. The rooms were simply decorated. As you walked toward the front door you glanced inside one of the rooms, and saw a table with a wooden sculpture on it.

“Oh my god, Joel? You still do the carving?”

“Oh… well… yeah. I never stopped.”

“Can I?” you asked.

“Sure,” he opened the door and you slipped through the gap, brushing past him lightly as you passed and you had goosebumps at the familiar scent. Still the perfume you had gifted him once. Reassuring. After all these years, instantly, it was there. Enveloping you.

You approached the table and leaned over a piece he was working on, admiring the figurine that was being carved. A rodeo cowboy on a bucking horse.

“Wow, Joel… you were already very good at this back then, but now it’s incredible. The level of detail is mind-blowing.”

You looked at the shelves, covered with other sculptures. You approached them: bears, deer, wolves, rabbits.

“This is really amazing, you’re so talented. And… Do you still play guitar?”

“Sure,” he answered, nodding at a guitar case. “I usually play in the dining room. My guitars are over there. This one needed a little TLC. I just got it back. It’s… well it’s the one you gave me.”

You looked at him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.

“You kept it?” you asked, trying to hold back your emotions.

“ ‘ course I did.”

You nodded, your throat tight.

“I should go, it’s getting late,” you said. “Tell me about the movie, ok?” You looked at him hesitantly, but when he leaned towards you and wrapped his arms around your torso, your eyes closed at the feeling, so familiar, before you pulled away, told him good night and left.

Driving your car, you replayed the images of the evening in your mind. Of course, you had felt his gaze on you several times during the evening. And sometimes you could see Joel again. Your Joel.

Did he think about you as much as you thought about him? Did he suspect that you had sent him this script in the hope of getting back in touch with him? Did he know how much you missed him, all those years?

You had wondered so many times if he had been thinking about you. You thought about the hug, as comforting as before. You missed him so much.

Two days later, he texted you

“I’m in”

He kept looking at his phone after sending the message. The read indicator appeared quickly, then the writing bubble.

“Great, I'm so glad! I’m sure it’s gonna be amazing!!”

He hoped it would be. Hoped it wasn’t a mistake.

He had to leave LA for several weeks for a shooting, and the organization of the film was put in place.

You sent each other a few messages in the next few days. Then the messages became more and more regular, while remaining purely friendly.

Several months later, the day before the shooting started, he knocked on your trailer to say hello.

You had rehearsed some scenes with the crew, and everything was ready.

The less emotional scenes were shot in the first few days. He didn’t ask for it, but he was glad. Every night he came back to his trailer, played the guitar, and thought about you.

Seeing you every day was a very strange thing that he had trouble to define. He was happy to see you every day, to see the person you had become. And sad that you were no longer his. Filming these moments with you was like constantly reopening a wound that had never really healed.

That night, he took out the script, and reread the scene planned the next day.

EXT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He parks downstairs at their apartment, it’s dark. He knows she’s back from a week at her parents’. He’s eager to get home and see her again, he’s missed her. He quickly climbs the outside stairs and unlocks the door. INT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He puts his keys on the hall cabinet, takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. We follow him as he walks in the apartment, until he sees her in the doorway of the dining room. He smiles, we see love in their eyes as look at other. HER Hey baby He goes to her, they kiss, he takes her in his arms. She closes her eyes. HIM I missed you, baby. He brushes her cheek with his thumb. HER I missed you too. She takes his hand and leads him to their bedroom.

He stopped reading there, before the next scene, that was the most intimate, the one that made him anxious just to think about.

“I missed you, baby,” he said the line. He brushed your cheek with his thumb, like he had done so many times before. His eyes were fixed in yours. He wondered if he was imagining what he was reading in them.

“I missed you too.”

You took his hand and you headed out of the frame.

“Cut, it was perfect, guys! Go get ready for the next scene.”

He picked up his water bottle and took a sip. He felt dizzy.

You were both wearing underwear and bathrobes. Waiting to shoot the scene.

“Ok guys, you’re ready? Great, let’s go.”

The scene was a close-up of both of your faces during a sex scene, at night. You lay down on the bed first, after taking off your robe. He took off his too and lay down between your thighs.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s ok,” you smiled.

“Action!”

You started to kiss, tongues quickly brushing against each other. His hands cupped your cheeks as he rolled his hips towards you slowly, careful that your crotches wouldn’t touch.

It was overwhelming to feel you against him, your breasts against his chest, with only your bra between the two of you. It was a whirling moment, to kiss you in such an intimate scene, playing something that you had lived for real before. He groaned and slid his hand to the back of your neck to hold you as close as possible against him.

He felt you shift slightly, turning your hips to face his. He wanted to ask you what you were doing but he couldn’t. He was half hard from the moment he laid against you but now his cock was hard as steel. You pushed your pelvis forward and the tip of his cock nestled at your entrance, pointing against his boxers.

He could feel your wet panties through the fabrics.

“Don’t stop, baby,” you recited your line, and he growled.

He couldn’t believe you would act like that while shooting a scene, couldn't believe you were using him.

He pulled away to look at you and you murmured an unscripted “please.” Eyebrows furrowed, he nodded slightly. His fat head found its way, and his tip pushed your panties in.

It was hot, filthy, forbidden. So unprofessional, but he couldn’t stop. He recognized your moans, and the small team around you probably thought it was perfectly faked, when it was music in his ears. The music he thought he would never hear again.

Your hands tightened on his biceps as you came. So quickly. He felt your walls squeezing his tip and he almost forgot to move, forgot the script, forgot you were shooting a scene. He pulled out, afraid he would come too, and faked his orgasm, neck tense and veins bulging, your hands caressing his hair at the back of his neck.

You said the next line “I love you, baby. I missed you so much.”

“I love you too,” was his.

“Cut!! That was amazing, great job!!”

There was a pounding on your trailer door as you got out of the shower. You quickly threw on a bathrobe and went to open it.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled.

“Keep your voice low Joel, damn… Come in.”

You closed the door behind him, searching for the right words, pressing your hands together.

“I, huh…” you stammered.

“No! No, talk to me. Tell me. You can’t… you can’t do that and stay silent.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he chuckled.

“Having you so close to me, against me… I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry. It was overwhelming.”

“Everyone could have seen, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, that’s the point, Joel! And they didn’t see, anyway.”

“Jesus christ you can't do that. You can’t just use me like that.”

“I know, Joel. I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“What?”

You sighed, and that time he didn't try to rush you. You felt him soften, giving you time to find your words.

“I miss you, Joel.”

“No, don't… Please, don’t say that.”

“I missed you the second I left and it never stopped.”

Hearing the tone of your voice and reading your eyes, this time he had no doubt that you really meant it. And he felt all the tensions in his body relax, as if he were freed from everything that had been oppressing him for years. You approached him slowly, eyes raised to his, and you slid your hand into his, and his large palm gently closed over it. You caressed his cheek with the other, and for a moment he shut his eyes, pressing his face against your hand.

“I miss you,” you said again and he rested his forehead against yours. He gently rubbed his nose against yours, before kissing your lips softly. He heard your breathing hitch for a moment, then you moaned slightly as you pulled away, just to look at him, Joel, not the actor, for the first time in years. He pulled you closer to him and brushed his tongue over your lips, as if asking for permission to push inside. Greedily, you slid yours to his, licking his tongue and lips, until he crashed his mouth against yours. His hands rested on your waist while yours moved up his back, pressing your bodies together. You whined when you felt his hard cock pressed to you.

You pulled away from him again, just to look at his face, and he wanted to pinch himself, just to be sure you were not some dream that would leave him disillusioned and alone when he woke up.

You took his hand and led him to your room.

“Undress me,” you said.

He pulled on the knot of your bathrobe slowly, making the two sides of the garment part, revealing the curve of your breasts that he caressed with his fingertips.

Your chest rose quickly as your eyes were plunged into each other, until he lowered them to your pussy. His heart was beating so fast that for a moment he was afraid it would explode.

He raised his gaze to yours, silently asking if you were okay.

“Yes,” you said. As if you knew he would want to hear it, that a nod wouldn't be enough.

He slipped his hands under the fabric of the robe and slid it down your shoulders. It fell to the floor, leaving you naked. So vulnerable, and yet you were the strongest woman he ever knew, following your dream by leaving for a city where you didn't know anyone. And made your dream come true.

But now you were here, in front of him. So pretty, so sure of yourself, of your desires.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a low voice.

He pulled you back, guiding you with his hands on your hips as he kissed you, until the back of your knees touched the bed.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” he said. The nickname was so familiar in his mouth, so normal. You did as he asked, moving back until your head rested on the pillow as he watched you, still standing at the end of the bed. Then he took off his t-shirt, unbuttoned his jeans and got rid of them and his boxers.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Haven't felt better in a long time, actually.”

“Me too,” he added, laying on the bed, his hand caressing your inner thighs that he kissed, then he spread them with his hands.

He ran his thumb over your folds, covering it in your wetness until he reached your clit and gently rolled it under his finger. You moaned, spreading your thighs wider.

He leaned down, his shoulders taking possession of the space between your thighs, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils. He licked a long stripe from your drooling hole to your clit, then placed his hands on the inside of your thighs, pressing your knees against the sheets, and you willingly let him do it, your hands sliding into his hair. He pushed his tongue into your cunt, growling against your folds. He never thought he would taste you again and an overwhelming feeling was running through his whole body. You were leaking into his mouth, down his throat and he pressed you against him, greedy for what you were giving him as your hips rolled towards him. His nose brushed perfectly against your clit, like it always did before. You clung to his hair as your moans were getting louder and louder.

"I'm so close, Joel," you murmured, hands lost in his curls. "Please, baby, please."

“Take what you need, use me, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god, Joel… I’m gonna… I’m coming, fuck!”

He didn't let go of you, leaving his tongue buried in your pussy and his nose against your clit, gripping your waist with his hands, as if they were in their natural place, your flesh welcoming them.

“Joel…” you whimpered.

“Another one, please, baby. Let me give you another one, ok?”

“I’m not sure if I can… I don’t know if I can,” you panted.

“Lemme try, ok?”

“Ok,” you whispered.

His tongue left your pussy, licking your puffy folds before teasing your swollen clit. His middle finger slid along your folds before he pushed it in you gently, immediately adding a second digit. His fingers pumped into you, making your wetness flow down to the sheets. He kept you pressed against the mattress, as he had done so many times, drunk on your taste and smell. His cock ached but he resisted the urge to grind himself against the bed, afraid of not being able to hold back and come on them.

“I can feel you clench on my fingers, you’re gonna be a good girl and come again for me?” he asked, before swirling his tongue over your clit again. “Thought about it so often,” he added, still pumping your drooling cunt with his thick fingers, then licking and sucking your clit.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you whined, just before you came on his diggits, clit pulsing against his tongue.

He crawled over to you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and smashed his lips against yours, your wimpers now disappearing between them.

“I wanna suck your cock, Joel,” you breathed against his lips, but he shook his head.

“Sweetheart… I'd love it too but I’m gonna come the second you’ll take me in your mouth,” he said. “And I really need to feel you around my cock. All the way this time, not just the tip. You’re ok with that, baby?”

“Of course, need to feel you too.”

“Damn you’re so pretty,” he said, and kissed you.

He grabbed his cock in his hand, the tip leaking, swollen and red, and nestled it at your entrance, pausing there for a moment before thrusting in.

“Oh fuck…” you whined, making him stop.

“No, no no, don’t stop, I’m ok. Need all of you, please,” you whimpered.

Like years ago, he would give you everything you needed from him. So he didn't stop until he bottomed out.

“Shit,” he groaned, feeling his balls tightening, ready to explode. He was struggling so hard not to come, but his breath was hitching with every thrust since he felt your pussy around him.

You kissed, hips rolling towards each other softly and slowly. He loved to feel you around him again, and again he thought that your bodies were made for each other. He was sure of it more than ever. He slid his arms under your shoulders and you licked his neck, right at his pulsating point, then kissed the thin and delicate skin crossed by its veins.

“I won’t last, baby, I’m sorry…” he panted.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, taking him deeper.

“It doesn’t matter, fill me, Joel, please, just like before,” you begged, making him grawl, and he placed his thumb against your clit. It was enough to give you soon another climax and you pulsed around his shaft, digging your fingers into his skin as you came once again. He thrusted in a few times before burying himself, balls deep in your cunt, and shot his cum into your core, filling it to the last drop, his forehead against yours.

“Fuck, sweetheart….”

“I know,” you breathed. “Just like before.”

For a few minutes both of you were panting loudly, waiting to catch your breath.

Then you caressed his cheek and he kissed you until he pulled away and lay down facing you.

“Come here, baby,” he said, welcoming you against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, the way he always liked it so much. You stayed like that for a few minutes without talking. He just wanted to feel you against him, to hear you breathe slowly, to feel your skin against his.

“I should have left with you,” he said suddenly.

You straightened up to look at him then said softly, “hey, no, don’t… Don’t hurt yourself by thinking that. You did what you had to do, and so did I. And we met again, like you said back then,” you added, and kissed him, then curled up in his arms again.

“We did,” he agreed, brushing your hair delicately. “So, that script?” he asked. “Was it to… like… get me back?”

“Of course it was,” you smiled against his torso, and he kissed the top of your head.

“I’m happy you sent it to me, sweetheart.”

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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npt: tagging those who showed interest in the wip wednesday post, love you ❤️

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#fic rec baby #joel miller x reader

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heretherebedork · 2 days ago

Note

You might want to not tag this one, but I gotta get it out for TH/K writing.

For me, personally, I think the contrast of having such well written characters against not so rounded ones is what undersells them more.

Both Style and Fadel are really well thought, written, and consistent through and throughout, but Kant and Bison? They have their moments, but there's something within them that feels a bit empty. They're compelling characters but only in theory, in practice... I'm not sure what is exactly what they're lacking, but it feels as if they're just written for moments, for scenes between them, but they're just not well developed by themselves.

I'm finding myself enjoying much more the interpretations and afterthoughts the fandom has about them than they themselves, especially with Kant, who's peak of interest for me was at the water boat bit and then it just went nowhere. Well

Ah, welcome to the no tags zone, anon! I will keep this in that area and I respect you for it because I agree.

Kant is, for me, the bigger problem. He feels hollow. His 'fake' love feels the same as his real love and that really removes a lot of the... feelings... in the relationship. We saw Style change as he started to care for Fadel and we saw his momentary fear and then how he got over it and saw every aspect of his love for him as well as how he regained his trust after the betrayal.

But with Kant it's just all been... words. Words, words, words and none of them actually deep or meaningful. None of them feel meaningful. He's just... also there.

I think they made Kant too perfect.

He was a car thief but only for his brother!!! And he was a snitch but only to save his brother!!! The guy who calls him an asshole? Lying!!! He was really the NICEST GUY EVER. And then that just leaves with Kant the Actual Angel who only did anything wrong because he just loved his baby brother SO MUCH that he also said he was gonna abandon him the instant he got out of high school but, you know, that's... that's okay I guess?

He just doesn't feel like a whole, entire character. He feels like someone wrote out the parts of a character they thought mattered to the romance and then just... stopped. He's a really cool tattoo artist who used to steal cars because he had to take care of his little brother and now he's gonna snitch on this hitman and pretend to love him but OOOOO turns out not to be fake!

But there's no depth to any of it. It's all so shallow. The depth is what we give it but the show isn't giving us any of it. The show is as deep as the water Kant reached when he was still experiencing his phobia while we're trying to make it as deep as he reached thirty seconds later when he was suddenly and inexplicably cured of it.

AND because Kant is a Perfect Character who can Do No Wrong he brings down the people around him. And Bison is more complex and multi-faceted but because he has to be played entirely with Kant his depth ends up unable to actually be explored in the relationship because Kant doesn't have the same depth.

It's why, frankly, I found his scene with Fadel and forgiveness to never quite go as far as I needed it to go.

Then again, I still don't trust Kant. I know I have and the show doesn't care but he still feels like he's lying to me. Like, he doesn't feel sincere to me because I feel like he never changed from the part of the story where he was supposedly 'faking' his love.

(Also, fuck the idea that bringing back the safeword in the kidnapping is actually bringing back the BDSM or a good callback because it wasn't, it wasn't deep, it was a callback that didn't make a lot of sense in context and didn't go anywhere in the actual story and apparently that was also all it took to make no more BDSM for Bison, I guess?!?!?!)

Anyway, I love Fadel and Style and they make me very happy and Kant and Bison are also there. I'm more invested in Keen and Nont at this point and Nont is probably, like, tied up under the place Fadel was crying.

But yes, anon. I fully agree that Kant is underdeveloped and I think that underdevelopment has spread to Bison and I think it's weakened them as characters to the point that they cannot carry the plot or the romance... at least for me.

#no tags here #negative #criticism #asked and answered

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epwritten · 1 day ago

Text

could've been ~ l.m

"People change, it's up to them"

Description: In which you and Minho have an awkward conversation after the two of you broke up.

Word Count: 2K

Author's note: I was going to originally write this for Felix, but Lee Know kept coming in my head. So I said screw it, we're making this a Minho one shot. I hope you like it!

Additional note: college au, ex's, memories, 2nd pov ('you' format). Minho's a bit mean if that counts as a warning? Not necessarily a happy ending, but still content enough.

Hope you enjoy reading! <3

People changed all the time. It was a part of life.

This was the reminder you played over and over in your head as you made your bed that morning. Everyday was feeling numb and the same. You woke up at around 7 to the sound of your alarm. You took a shower and brushed your teeth. You got dressed. If you had an appetite you would usually make toast and have orange slices on the side. If it was like a day like today where you felt more numb that usual, you grabbed a protein shake and left the kitchen. You'd be out the house before your parents were awake, on your way to work, which you had to be in by 8:30.

You put music in your ears. Nothing like classic R&B or sad songs you loved, but something upbeat like pop or rap that would try to distract you from how you were truly feeling. Because if you were to listen to what you were really feeling there'd be problems and you couldn't afford that. Not when you were at least trying to get better and move on.

But the music choice would be good, you concluded as you turned up the volume. You also worked at the front counter at the campus gym. The place was upbeat anyway.

It wasn't until you arrived at the gym did you feel a harsh cold wind. Your hands flew to your arms as you hugged yourself, looking around in confusion. It was the start of spring, a chill day in April and yet you felt like you were trapped in a freezer.

You spotted Rob, one of your co-workers. He was nice, about a decade older than you, and the one that first helped you during your first few days at work.

"The air condition can't turn off. It's been on overnight at high." Rob told you. You noticed fog escaped his breath.

"Did you call someone?" You asked.

"Yeah, the HVAC technician should be here in an hour. The gym itself is not as cold, but I'm heading to a meeting upstairs and someone needs to stay at front desk while I'm out." Rob said. He shot an apologetic look, but you shook your head.

"It's fine, I can stay here I'll just-"

You stopped talking as a lightbulb went over your head. Your dad was a professor at the same college you attended and worked at, and he would be teaching a morning class. His class didn't start until 9, and you knew he was probably getting ready to go by now. So you had an idea.

You looked at Rob as you got out your phone. "I'll be fine. I'm going to ask my dad if he can drop off a hoodie for me." You said.

Rob nodded. "Okay, thanks a bunch." He gave a final smile before he left and headed up the stairs.

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers cold as you typed. It was ridiculously cold and you absolutely needed to feel warmth immediately. The worse part of the whole thing was that you had a weak immune system. Anytime there were weather changes you had to be extra careful and take precaution so that you wouldn't be sick. And it would happen. You would always get the flu or something, but you didn't want to get it this time.

You varied between pacing behind the desk, putting your hands in your jean pockets, and hugging yourself. You felt goosebumps on your forearms and your teeth were slightly chartering.

Who in their right mind turned the air conditioner to the highest level anyway? It wasn't even a scorching day in August yet?

The usual Monday crowd strolled in. They signed in, made little small talk, and then headed straight to the weights. You tried to be as professional as you could, remaining focused on your work as you signed each person in. Maybe the cold helped with that for a bit, but it wasn't until a guy who came in with iced coffee or headphones around his ears did it make you think of someone.

When you were by yourself, you looked ahead, trying not to think about what would cloud your mind but you knew it would come eventually. Everything reminded you of him, but this place was a literal gym, if not THE gym he used to go to.

Now you weren't even sure where he'd go.

You took a deep breath, drumming the table as you closed your eyes and tilted your head just enough for your neck to crack. Satisfied, you did it on the other side too. There was no better feeling than to release unwanted stress and tension.

The door suddenly opened, and the warm air made you open your eyes. You smiled when you saw your dad in his classic suit and suitcase come in. You checked the time on your computer screen.

"You're here early." You commented. He would usually come about an hour later.

"I know, but when you say there's a broken air conditioning and they left you here to freeze in a t-shirt? That's not happening on my watch." He said, walking over to give you a side hug.

He felt your arm. "You're a block of ice!" He said shocked. You had to giggle at his concern.

"I grabbed the biggest hoodie I could find. It was in your closet." He said, handing you a grey hoodie that was slung over his shoulder.

You blinked, staring at it for a second as you slowly took it from his hands.

"Alright, I'm going to go over my lecture. You're all good now, right?" Your dad asked.

You nodded. "Yes. Thanks, dad."

He left the gym, shuddering as he opened the door. He turned and pointed to you on his way out. "Wear the hoodie immediately!" He yelled.

"Okay!" You said, shooting a thumbs up.

When the door closed, you sighed. You could feel the fabric, or check the design, or even smell the piece of clothing. But you didn't have to.

Because you still, even after all this time of distance, knew it wasn't your hoodie. It was Minho's.

You ran fingers through your hair as you sighed, looking at the grey oversized hoodie that was placed on the counter. How could have still had this? You thought you gave everything back.

But it had been months. Two months and seven days exactly (though who's counting?). Couldn't Minho have noticed on of his hoodies missing and asked for it back?

You sat in the stool now, still staring at what was once your blanket of memories. It wasn't your dad's fault, he didn't realized what he grabbed. The poor man probably read your text and ran without a second thought. He knew the breakup was hard, he would have never took Minho's hoodie for you to wear intentionally.

But here you were, now faced with this reality. You still had this one hoodie in your closet. And now you were freezing. You considered the options. You could wait until the technician guy came in, and just freeze for one more hour. By that point your fingers would go completely numb. But would it be worth it? What would be the point of that? If you were freezing, and there was a hoodie that was right in front of you, no one in their good mind would reject that.

But would they reject it if it was from their ex?

You let out a sigh but knew what you had to do. It was either your health, or nothing. It wasn't worth it to get sick just because you didn't use what would help you right there in the moment, even it was Minho's.

You took the hoodie that was starting to be chilly itself and then brought it over you to wear. An action you've done so many times, but you never thought there'd be a day when it caused you pain.

Once it was worn you suddenly remembered that it was a custom made hoodie that one of his friends got for his birthday. In small but still visible cursive print on the left side read the letters L. M.

You were now after breaking up with him, wearing his initials again.

This. Was. Torturous.

You put the hood of the hoodie over your head and pulled down the sleeves just slightly so you could continue working with sweater paws. You were grateful now that you were shivering anymore, and whatever feeling of soreness that wanted to start in your throat was now coming down. You knew it was way better to save your health. The technician would be here soon and you could take the hoodie off.

The busyness of the job came in shifts. One moment it would be slow, then out of nowhere, a while wave of people would come in. Each of the conversations were similar. They asked about the cold, you told them about the problem, they asked if the gym was closed, you told them they could still work out and the gym itself was fine. After the current wave you just passed (which dealt with way too much energy for a 9am) you finally had a chance to sit down. You mindlessly rested your head against the desk, wanting to be still for a moment. But after a few seconds your head jolted up.

The hoodie still smelled like him.

It was ridiculous. Maybe you were paranoid. You had washed this hoodie several times, how could you have smelled his scent?

You missed it. The natural one. You liked his cologne as well of course, but it was the snug moments where if you cuddled on the couch, and if you were wearing his clothes and he wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly, you would be surrounded by a fresh dove springtime smell. It immediately gave you the memories and you tried to now look at the computer, then down to the view of the gym, anything to get your kind off of it.

You weren't struggling as much as you once were, when the breakup was still a few days old. You weren't necessarily going to lie and say you were happy and all better, but you were just numb now. Numb to the feelings, and also numb to the memories. But now, as you sat in your ex boyfriend's hoodie, it was playing a bunch of tricks on your brain. Suddenly you were back there in the cold days. Suddenly you were back to falling asleep in his arms. Suddenly you were back to library dates with coffee. Suddenly you were back to watching his morning runs.

You shook your head and glanced at the clock. Just one more hour. Then you could take the stupid thing off.

Long minutes passed by but you were getting through your morning until the door chimed and opened once again. You looked up and instantly felt your heart drop.

Minho's friends from his dance club came through the door, and it wasn't long until you saw him in a black hoodie on top of cargo pants. His brown hair long and styled in a way that made you hate how good you thought he looked. He always looked good, but he wasn't yours to tell that anymore.

He was laughing, an iced coffee in his hand. Though you were confused. He had a class at this time. Why was he at the gym?

You kept your eyes down, trying to avert your gaze. They were headed in your direction. You weren't sure what Minho would do. Since the breakup you didn't see him much, but if you paths were to cross for whatever reason, you would pass by each other like strangers. Minho wouldn't glance in your direction and so you learned how to do the same thing.

But now for the first time in a while you were spotted, and making matters worse, in his hoodie. What would his friends think? What would he think? You hoped Minho wouldn't notice.

As the guys walked over to the counter, Minho was last in line. He had his phone with him scrolling away in disinterest as his straw was in mouth. You tried not to pay attention as you plastered a while.

It was semi awkward since most of the guys knew who you were. But you were all adults so you weren't about to make a scene. You signed them in and they smiled and said their thanks.

"Have a good workout." You wished, just as you did with everyone who's stepped in since the gym opened.

Now that Minho's friends left, you turned to the computer screen, typing his name. You could do this whole thing in silence, and as you see in the corner of your eye that Minho looked around the place and not at you, you expected that he would do the same.

That was until he placed his hand on the desk, leaning in.

"What are you doing?" He asked. His voice sounded slightly irritated.

Your hands typed fast and you willed yourself to be strong and not timid. You were bound to talk to him eventually.

"I'm working Minho, what does it look like I'm doing?" You finally looked up at his handsome face. "I need your card."

Minho's gaze fell at the hoodie. "Why are you wearing my hoodie? What do you think you're doing?"

You breathed deeply and slowly. "I don't know if you noticed this, but this air conditioning is on the highest level and I needed something to warm me up-"

"So you walk around wearing my freaking initials on your chest."

Minho took a step back and glanced at you. Was it disgust? Anger? Resentment? You couldn't even tell.

You blinked. "It's not like that. I didn't know about the air conditioner until I got here. I asked my dad to grab a hoodie on his way here and he found this one. That's all."

Minho rolled his eyes as he got out his wallet. "Sure."

"It's the truth." You said.

Minho didn't look like he believed. His eyes were elsewhere as he handed you his card and you swiped it on the machine. When you handed back his card, he looked at you once more.

"We broke up. And you're out here wearing my hoodie, that's not fair." He said, his voice low.

You scoffed, holding the hem of his hoodie. "Do you think I want to wear this? You think it's fun for me to go around wearing something from someone I'd rather have no business with? I don't like this. It's awkward, okay? But it was either this or freeze." You told him.

Minho shook his head. There was a look in his eye, though you couldn't tell what exactly he felt. You knew this was awkward for him. You placed yourself in his shoes. He, just like you, had a right to move on. But when you were wearing something of his, it was awkward. You knew that.

You just didn't like how he made it seem like it was your choice in the matter.

"Well, is someone coming to fix the air conditioner?" Minho asked.

You nodded. "In about an hour."

Minho gave a weird look. "You couldn't have waited until then?"

That was what made you ticked off. You shook your head, letting out a huff.

"Look, do you want me to take this off and give it to you? Because-"

"Calm down. You're already wearing it, I'm not gonna ask you to take it off, I'm not that vile. It's whatever. You can keep it. Or burn it later. Do whatever you want with it. I don't care." Minho said, taking his wallet and his coffee.

He walked away from the desk, leaving you staring at his retreating figure as he went on his phone. You sighed, covering your face in your hands.

You weren't the type that hated anybody, but you didn't understand him. And that caused an anger to build up. How could he stand there so disgusted, so bratty, so nonchalant, like he never once told you he loved you? As if you weren't the one he once shared everything with? Why was he so cold, when once all you felt was the warmth of being cradled in his arms? How could he interact with you like he never knew you when he once kissed every part of you? Was it not hurting him to stand there and pretend he didn't think of all the moments shared? Did he not miss it? Did he not miss you...like you missed him?

Minho once told you, during that times where you both were fighting a lot, that it wasn't over between you. There was still something, whether fate, force, or faith, that was keeping you both together by a thread. That even through the differences you both had, you would stay together because you were meant to be.

It wasn't until after everything that happened in the breakup did you realize in the learning curve was that the only thing meant for the two of you was to break up. You weren't the same. Not even close. He was different, you were different.

People changed all the time. It was a part of life. And soon you would get to the point of gratitude that he was no longer in your life anymore.

#lee minho #lee know #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #skz #stray kids #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know oneshot #lee minho oneshot #Spotify

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