#i just don't talk about it because this is about falling in love with the most annoying person you can find on this rock

[fishnapple]

What new skill should you learn

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

CARNELIAN

The most prominent one that I get is public speaking skills. Your usual way of speaking might not get you enough attention when you are in front of a crowd or talking to a large audience, even online one. May be your voice is too soft or sounds quite young or bubbly, or you don't like to share too much about yourself, your opinions. It can make you seem more approachable, but in situations that you need to assert yourself, to be taken seriously, then it can become a disadvantage. And when you are in those situations, you might over compensate by being defensive or rigid, trying to assert yourself more than necessary.

You need to develop a firmer tone, and the words you say, your body language should also convey a sense of authority. But it's not a battle for power and domination, you just need to make yourself more visible, to make your energy more solid and grounded. This will help you in situations that require exchanging ideas in a large group, delivering your message to many people, rallying, persuading, teaching, or simply telling a story.

Research more about social skills in a group setting, observe the people that you feel are popular or well respected, observe their body language, their posture, their tones in different kinds of conversations, their choices of words, their silence, etc. This may sound mechanical but if you treat this skill just like math or painting, instead of thinking that social skill is something innate, you will see that with appropriate observations and enough practice, you can achieve a certain level of proficiency. This will open more opportunities for you and raise your confidence.

CLEAR QUARTZ

The stone of Pluto, South node and North node, all are "standing up", they are trying to make a statement (each side of the crystal is very narrow, it can fall over with just a gust of wind, I normally couldn't replicate the same position). The theme is about changing the old and embracing a new mindset. I think it has to do with how you take care of your appearance, your style.

Right now, you seem to be staying in the safe zone when it comes to styling yourself, making yourself more beautiful. This might be due to restrictions in early childhood, traditional values, what society deems appropriate or trendy. You might not want to focus too much on appearance because it seems superficial or vain, or takes too much of your time and energy.

But doing so will rope you the chance to express yourself more truthfully. Beautify yourself not because of how you will be perceived, but because it's a way to show love for yourself. You look into a mirror, you feel happy, you want to compliment yourself, you feel that silly stray strand of hair is adorable, not thinking about how will everyone say, how you are not like someone.

So the advice for you here is to be more adventurous in styling, expand your knowledge about fashion and styling, explore yourself more , give yourself the freedom to experiment more, to rebel more. Creating a unique image, a "public persona" is not just for some celebrities, everyone can benefit from that. Because behind that seemingly surface action, is the journey of discovering your deeper self. As within so without.

The theme of transformation is also applied to learning new languages. The languages should be totally different from your mother tongue, giving you more chance to connect with people from various parts of the world.

OBSIDIAN

The phrase "navigating the world" appeared in my mind. I got several meanings from this. One is in the literal sense as driving a vehicle, going around, navigating the roads, so learning to drive a new kind of vehicle might be the skill you should learn, or even learn to swim or row a boat. There are lots of movements, travelling and moving around. You should be more active in the physical sense. But this is not really about exercise or going to the gym, it's about moving your body, being in various places, experiencing different things. Your life in this period needs lots of expansion and movements. You might feel that you don't have enough resources or energy to go on trips, or you're simply someone who doesn't like travelling. But it will make your life stagnant. Travelling might not seem like a skill, but it is, all the planning, packing, preparation and the ability to adapt to the new place, all or these take skills.

Another one is navigating the complicated social construct. Maybe you feel it's hard to connect to people, there might be walls and the feeling of solitude and not fitting in, that there is something fundamentally different about you. The people that you managed to get closer to (it's likely that they approached you first) will stay close to you for a long time, you have no trouble maintaining a connection. The trouble lies in initiating or forming the connection. There might be an ego here that doesn't want to show their vulnerable side. Silly jokes and banters might seem childish to you. But learning to have fun in a social setting is much more rewarding than you think. Allow yourself to be a child, learn how to tell a story. Debating skills might also be worthwhile for you to learn, learn how to state your opinions clearly and defend your stance.

This group is strangely hard to read, I feel a certain resistance. You might feel that your personality isn't suitable for these kinds of things or you think it would take too much effort and work. You also don't want to imitate what other people are doing. Another reason might be that you haven't figured out what you like to do yet. But that's okay, everything takes time, trials and errors are normal, don't give up on the first try.

TIGER'S EYE

This one is an anti-consumerism movement. You might want to learn how to mend and sew clothes. And not just learn for yourself, but later will you spread the awareness to everyone, or even open workshops related to this.

Running after trends, constantly being bombarded by ads about shiny things that we don't actually need. Basic clothes with good quality cost too much while trendy ones don't last for more than a year. Maybe it's time for you to take matters in your own hands. Learning how to sew clothes might take time and effort, and sometimes, the cost is not small either. But you will be more free to explore styles that you like, create things that you're actually comfortable in. Not many people can proudly display their achievements like someone who makes their own clothes. This is also a great activity to relieve stress and help you practice being patient, especially if you're someone who is quick to get irritated or not very meticulous. It can soften your energy more and make it more focused.

Another way to practice is martial art or self-defense. You have lots of energy that needs to be channelled into various activities, those that keep your body busy.

You might also want to research more about the traditional spiritual and occult practices of your culture, or some traditional crafts in your family, learning about the legacy of our ancestors. There will be surprising knowledge hidden in them that you didn't notice before. You could feel resistant or disagree with many traditional teachings but don't disregard them completely. We can always learn something new from the old and the new always contain the old.

LABRADORITE

This is something that you feel out of your depth and uncomfortable doing, or something that you like but want to keep it a secret, for fear of judgement or obstruction.

I heard dancing and singing. But there's a feeling of gatekeeping. Some people consider these kinds of activities only for those who are gifted and have the resources to pursue them. These skills are put on a pedestal that stops people from approaching them in a more casual way.

Why should you learn these skills? It's to let your inner child be free and out into the open. It's also a way to learn how to control your body, discipline it so it can flow freely, it helps you connect more with your sensuality. Our body is an instrument of life, capable of many miracles, you won't know it unless you let it interact and move with the world around it.

There are various genres for you to explore, but I see traditional instruments or movements combined with modern ones.

Nurturing life such as gardening is another skill you should learn. It helps you be more in sync with nature, you will need to observe the natural cycle of life, to care for each individual and to form a bond with them. If you don't have the space or resources for gardening, maybe try to study more about nature, subjects about biology and chemistry, the ecosystem of forests, oceans, deserts etc. You will be more appreciative of the nature world.

CITRINE

Your energy right now seems to be rigid and doesn't flow properly. There's stress about your health, it's hard to relax, you don't feel comfortable in your body. Maybe you've been too busy lately, your mind is overloaded and your movement is restricted. So you need to learn something that can help you destress, loosen up the hard restrictions around you, and connect more with a softer, more gentle energy. You could call it your feminine energy, regardless of your gender. The feminine energy is within all of us, in your case, it's more hidden. Your loving, more nurturing side could be considered as weaknesses by the people around you. Or, on the contrary, those traits are expected of you forcefully, to the point that your own interpretation of them are buried deep within, you haven't had a chance to actually understand and connect with it.

I think meditation or any form of practice that can quiet the mind and put you in the flow will be good for you. Making art could be one form of it, yoga, intuitive dancing, Qigong, roller skating. Slow, mindful movements or wild, frantic ones just like a child running around, all the while maintaining your balance. You can temporarily forget about yourself, your worries, your responsibilities for a while with these kinds of activities.

Learning to play an instrument can also achieve the same kind of effects. A flute or a lyre.

You should be around children more, learn how to take care of them, how to teach them. Working, being with children can have a totally different energy and requires a different set of skills. I think you would make a great teacher because you have a very protective energy that children would feel safe around you. And in turn, they help you soften up and bring out your compassionate side more.

[d-emeter]

Breakfast, lunch and dinner (or: cod characters and how they eat you out) — plus-size!fem!reader x cod characters

Includes: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, König, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria

Note: take this as my formal apology for being inactive for so long :') exam week had me hanging on by a thread and i'm also suddenly moving so. yay. expect some more action after like... this week i hope

John Price

Listen. Getting eaten out by Captain Price is not, in any way, meant for your pleasure. No, this is him disciplining you. It hardly even matters what for. Maybe you have been teasing him, sliding your hand up his thigh under the table, rubbing your ass against him while passing by him. Maybe you've been a brat all day, complaining and huffing and puffing about everything, barely listening to any of John's requests and/or demands. Either way, sit on his desk and spread your fucking legs, doll. He'll be edging you for what feels like hours, tongue moving so torturously slow that all coherent thought has seeped from your brain aside from how badly you want to cum. Too bad, bad girls don't deserve to finish this easily.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

With Simon, it's always a surprise what position you'll end up in. The only certainty you have is that it's definitely not what you'd expect, and sometimes you wish that for once he'd just lay you down and get busy. But alas, he'll have you kneeling with your face in the pillows, or bent over the back of the couch. Maybe he'll have you hanging off the edge of the bed so all the blood flows to your already overheating brain. You're clinging onto whatever you can get a hold on, mostly in pleasure, and sometimes in fear of falling when he has you up on his shoulders and leaned against the wall. Well, he doesn't exactly hear your complaining over your moans and whimpers, he argues, and he wouldn't dream of dropping you.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

As with Price, this has little to do with your pleasure: it's all for his own benefit. Please, lass, he loves your cunt, and she loves him, doesn't she? Come on, let him have a taste. He could give two shits about where you are or how convenient it is— if he wants to lick your pussy, he's going to. He's down on his knees while you're desperately clinging onto the kitchen counter, or the shower wall, or the shelves of your pantry. Hell, you'd have to hope and pray a sales associate won't come by your changing room in fear of them hearing all of his moans. Oh, and you quickly find out you cannot wear a skirt around him, because it won't come down from your hips if he has any say in it.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

He's devastatingly methodical. He knows your body better than you do at this point, and he's not afraid to use this to his advantage. He can work you just right, but the worst part is that he will refuse to. Unless you kindly ask him for it, that is. Tsk, pretty girl, use your words. Let him know where you need him, what you need him to do. He's hovering close enough that you can feel his breath on your neglected clit, your cunt clenching around nothing in desperate search for friction of any kind, but he won't do anything until you tell him in excruciating detail what you want. And be aware, any time you stop talking, he's pulling away in a second.

König

Oh, König... Sweet, wet-rag-of-a-man loser that he is, will completely lose his mind any time you allow him near your pussy. He can practically feel his brain melting while he's drowning himself in your slick, and he looks like it too. His eyes have rolled back, face flushed and his eyebrows scrunched in pure, unadulterated pleasure. His body has turned to complete mush, his cock leaking against the sheets and hands clawing onto any part of your body he can reach (which, with his arms, is basically everywhere). Unintelligible mumbles made into your cunt, teetering the edge between praise and begging. He is a little inexperienced, Schatz, so you'll have to show him how you like it. Shove his face between your folds and ride his nose, and you'll have him moaning like a bitch in heat. When he finally comes back up for air you can tell you're not the only one that reached heaven just now.

Philip Graves

I'm going to speak my truth here, he does not strike me as the kind of man to give you oral all that much. I am SORRY, but it's true. He usually prefers to get you nice and ready for him with his fingers, or by having you ride his thigh, or simply from the absolute filth he spews into your ear while dry-humping. However, on the odd occasion that Phil does get down and dirty, he aims to make it special. It's strangely sentimental, actually. It'd be outside on a picnic blanket after his homecoming, or in your shared bed after your anniversary dinner. Anything that reminds him how much he loves you, and how much you mean to him, and he's going to show you with his tongue. There's reverence in every suck, praise in every lick and prayer in every word he murmers into your core. You're his goddess and he's just here to worship you, baby.

Alejandro Vargas

For Ale, it'd be a form of gratuity much in the same way it is for Graves, though the difference is that he'll use that as an excuse even for the most menial things. His belly nice and full after your homecooked dinner, grin on his face and asking when his dessert is being served. You've been so good to him, amor, welcoming him home with a smile and a kiss and a plate waiting for him, now let him thank you properly. You fixed the button on his shirt that had fallen off? Well, put it on and lay yourself down, time to lap at your cunt in thanks. It's gotten to a point where you're convinced he just decided his goal in life is to pull as many orgasms from you as possible. Not that you're complaining, of course.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parras

Eating you out is, in many ways, a means to an end for Rudy. He wants to make sure you're properly prepped and ready to take his cock, so it's almost instinctual for him to bury his face between your soft thighs for a while before inching himself into you. It's part of the routine, the way he thought sex was supposed to go. It's not until you explain to him that it can actually be the main event, and that you'd thoroughly enjoy it if he maybe put in a little more effort, that it dawns on him just how much he can actually do down there and how much time he's wasted not doing it. Now, tesoro, you may have shot yourself in the foot with that one, because he now can keep you pinned down for hours, just suckling away at your clit and fucking you on his tongue, dumb grin on his face after your fifth orgasm renders you basically comatose.

Valeria Garza

The only way Valeria will actually relax for once is with your pussy in her face. Seriously, you've tried everything else: lavender baths, deep tissue massages, even trying to get her to meditate. But no, the only time you actually see her shoulders lose all their tension is when she's between your folds. She's had such a long day, vida, come sit on her face. She's not even groping you the way she usually does during sex, hands instead playing idly with the fat of your thighs and ass while all her worries melt away. There are no thoughts running through her mind aside from how good you taste, how pretty you sound and how nice you feel under her hands.

[delswine]

LET'S CLARIFY THE COMMENTS 𝄒 ⸝. P. SH

the thing is, you couldn't even imagine how Enhypen's visual Sunghoon, who made millions fall in love with him, would react when you gossiped with your idol friends about his sex life.

"you seem to know too much, baby."

ᆢ ۢ pairing: arrogant¡idol¡dom!sunghoon × bratty¡idol¡sub!f.reader

contains some members of enhypen, aespa, le sseraphim, ive.

ᆢ ۢ genre: smut (MDNI) with a tiny plot.

ᆢ ۢ warning: strangers to smth, unprotected sex (nope, not for you babe), spitting, hair pulling, pet names, dirty talk, reader is down bad, some praising, oral (f&m rec), teasing, overstimulation, hickeys, fingering, slight choking, begging, manhandling... may contain more, lmk if i missed.

ᆢ ۢ notes: well, my little braincells, this is my first on tumblr so don't judge me plz. and this girl is not a native english speaker, fyi. hope you enjoy?? (plz enjoy or i'll kms)

more undercut!

you leaned forward slightly as you brushed your waist-length hair out of your eyes, continuing your speech that had caught the girls' attention as if you were going to tell them a secret. "don't he seem like a sub? sure, he may be handsome, but he's so cold and arrogant. god, I swear on my soul that his dick is small!"

well, those weren't exactly well-supported thoughts. more like- more like the hatred you spewed at Park Sunghoon for not even having his number. who could've blame you? Park Sunghoon was arguably the most cold and apathetic one in the industry among idols. if any idols topic came up while talking to girls, at least one of them would definitely have hung out with that person, but Sunghoon? nope, not even a chance. he refused to talk to any female or male idol who asked for or contacted him for his number, distancing himself from everyone with that condescending look on his face.

and you... you wanted him, god damn it, you wanted him so bad. Sunghoon fucking you was something that had been haunting your dreams lately. while you can have all the male celebrities you want wrapped around your finger, it was making you angry that you didn't even have Park Sunghoon's number. when you asked him he said he wasn't interested. to you! who could say no to you?

and here you are, venting your anger at Sunghoon for no reason and without him even knowing it by belittling him and starting rumors.

Wonyoung sipped her drink while laughing lightly. “you really have a grudge against him, he’s not actually that arrogant. he’s just cold. you're just mad because he didn’t give you his number, y/n.” Giselle couldn't help but tease you. "our queen bee got rejected for the first time in her life! let's get a depression blanket and a jar of nutella for miss y/n!" you let out a frustrated breath and leaned back. you looked at sunghoon’s face a few tables away and spoke sarcastically.

“i’m sure he’s a virgin and gay or something. and i’m not depressed or anything, Gigi. i could have a line of guys at my door if i wanted to. his loss.”

—

well, fuck the loss. you're the one who is losing. every time that man performed on stage, you felt like you were going to explode. how could a person look so flawless? you wanted to beg to get under the man you were raving about just a few minutes ago.

as you focused on the song to distract yourself from thoughts about Sunghoon, you curiously took the paper that an staff had reached out to you. he wasn't part of your group's crew, so you could tell the paper was from another idol. you tucked the paper in your pocket so the fans wouldn't think anything of it.

a few minutes later, when the performance was over, you got up from your seat and went backstage to go to the bathroom. as you walked to the bathroom among the rushing staff, you took out the paper from your pocket.

"you will come to my waiting room after the show ends to clarify your comments about my small dick."

as an angry and confused laugh spilled from your lips, you didn't even think about going. why would you listen to him?

and yes, your thoughts didn't seem to matter because you found yourself in front of Sunghoon's personal waiting room after the ending ceremony.

even though you came here, you were just standing in front of the door, not knowing what to do. as you debated with your thoughts between knocking on the door, going straight in, and turning back, you felt a shadow rising from behind you.

Park Sunghoon.

as you turned your head slightly to look at him, Sunghoon walked past you and opened the door, not even bothering to look at your face. he spoke with firm and demanding tone, leaving the door open behind him. "come in and close the door."

while you entered inside, doing as he said, without knowing the reason, Sunghoon took off his tie, which was part of his stage costume, in front of the table with his back to you and left it on the table. once he had taken off his jacket and was left with a white shirt hugging his muscular upper body, he turned to you. he walked towards you and spoke in a cold voice as he unbuttoned the cufflinks of his shirt and folded one of his sleeves.

"it's surprising you're not still on your knees."

you were taken aback. your eyebrows furrowed slightly, and your lips parted in surprise. as you searched for your voice that you thought you had escaped into, Sunghoon spoke once more. there was now only a step between you.

"what's with this reaction? wasn't that the reason you made those know-it-all comments about my dick because you wanted it deep inside all your holes?"

you tried to focus on forming sentences without stuttering. you were embarrassed that your voice sounded so weak. "what are you talking aba-" Sunghoon grabbed your chin, pinching your cheeks between his fingers, causing your lips to pucker as he leaned over you. he spoke in a sarcastic tone while raising one eyebrow. "did I say you can talk? on your knees."

the feeling of wetness in your panties made you feel humiliated as your hands trembled slightly. as you looked into Sunghoon's eyes with a slightly timid but eager gaze and didn't even attempt to kneel down, Sunghoon let out a deep breath. his hand reached your throat and squeezed lightly, taking your breath away as he pushed you hard against the door behind you and leaned on you. you placed your hands over Sunghoon’s as a small groan escaped your lips from the pain in your back. he didn’t completely take your breath away, just made it a little harder. "we both know that what you said was just to piss me off and provoke me to fuck the brat out of you. now, you'll get what you wanted. on your knees. if you make me say it one more time, i'll overstimulate and edge you for hours."

when Sunghoon’s hand left your neck, you swallowed and fell to your knees, biting your lip lightly. he was right, this was what you wanted. now you could show him what he was missing at first, then leave him begging you to continue.

"you know what to do."

your hands found the waistband of Sunghoon's pants. you undid his belt first, then the button, and pulled down the zipper. you pulled down his pants and hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. as you raised your eyes and looked down at him, you saw Sunghoon unbutton the top buttons of his shirt. when he looked at you with dark eyes, you looked away and pulled out his not erect cock from his boxer. the big dick in front of you, even when not erect, was proof that what the things you were saying would soon go into your ass. besides being huge, it was also mouthwatering.

you turned your eyes to Sunghoon once more and parted your lips, taking the tip of his cock into your mouth. no reaction.

you started to caress the dick with your hand, then took it into your mouth and started sucking it. no reaction.

you wrapped your tongue around him, running it over his veins. no reaction.

even though you had made his cock semi-hard, Sunghoon continued to look at you without even the slightest moan. when you got angry and touched it your teeths lightly, Sunghoon hissed lightly and grabbed you by the hair. he pulled your head back and leaned over you. "you're pushing your luck too much. open your mouth."

before you could swallow the saliva that spilled from his mouth to your mouth, Sunghoon pushed his dick into your mouth with the help of his hand in your hair. your hands quickly found Sunghoon’s thighs as he moved your head back and forth, moving his waist at the same time and started to fuck your throat. you digged your nails into Sunghoon’s skin as you rolled your eyes at him once more, letting out a meaningless moan because your mouth was full. even though you felt like you had won a victory when you heard a soft groan from Sunghoon who was looking at you, what had happened to your plan to leave him alone? as you watched with lustful eyes from below as Sunghoon threw his head back and moaned, every time you tried to pull away and leave him, Sunghoon would push your head back down onto his cock.

"nuh-uh, you're going nowhere baby. you'll take it just like you wanted."

you stared at him desperate as your eyes filled reflexively under Sunghoon’s harsh thrusts. the fact that you were enjoying this made you feel humiliated. you had created a pool in your panties while sucking the cock of a man who was using you shamelessly.

Sunghoon’s moans filled the room and the words he used made you want to suck him even more. "fuck, yes- just like that. take it like a good girl.. ah, look at your eyes.. you're enjoying this, don't you?"

Sunghoon pulled back as your hot seed formed a web in your throat. you fell onto your hips, out of breath, and pressed your hand to your lips. grabbing your chin and forcing your angry gaze into his own eyes, Sunghoon grinned. "you seem to have lost the bet on your soul. c'mere."

Sunghoon easily manhandled and lifted you up, grabbing you by your waist. he grinned as he pulled you closer to him. his free hand slid under your skirt and caressed your skin, dangerously close to your pussy. your hands quickly move to his shoulders, applying a weak and reluctant pressure to push, while Sunghoon’s hand quickly reaches your clothed clit. contrary to his calm demeanor, you quickly broke apart and moaned, letting out a shaky breath. Sunghoon grinned at the wetness he felt through your panties as he moved his fingers in circles over your clit. he mumbled between your messy moans.

"sub under the handsome face, huh? at least you have the decency to admit that you think i'm handsome."

your legs trembled as his two fingers pushed your panties aside and entered your warm cunt without warning. you felt like you were going to fall, but Sunghoon’s hand on your waist kept you upright. he leaned down and whispered in your ear as he started to move his fingers rapidly, turning you into a moaning mess.

"beg."

your lips parted quickly, Sunghoon hadn’t even done anything to turn you on this much yet but you couldn’t resist. you were absolutely nothing when it comes to Park Sunghoon.

"p-please, god- fuck.. please do so-something.."

Sunghoon's eyebrows rose as he smiled. as his fingers in your pussy sped up, he looked at you mockingly, and spoke. "well done, but not enough. you should try harder, honey." his thumb rubbing your clit roughly, leaving you breathless once again. you were digging your nails into Sunghoon’s arms as your eyes filled with arousal.

"fuck- i'm so s-sorry, i'm so-fuck- i-i won't lie again! please-Sunghoon please make me cum!"

Sunghoon's eyes filled with pleasure as he sped up his fingers, giving you the movement you needed to cum. you stood on your tiptoes, your moans filling the room as you came, legs shaking from the hard thrusts inside you. your head fell back, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

the moment he thought you could open your eyes again, Sunghoon lifted your head and pressed his lips to yours. after a passionate kiss, he pulled back and pointed to the couch behind him. "strip and lie down, baby. we're not done yet."

after getting rid of your clothes, when you reached the couch with an empty mind and lay down, Sunghoon quickly found his place on you and settled between your legs. he grabbed your ankle and pressed his lips gently against your skin to leave a few kisses on your calf. sweet whimpers escaped your lips until his lips reached your thigh, leaving light marks with bite marks on your legs.

you wouldn't have to think twice to realize that if you weren't an idol, Sunghoon would have left his marks all over your body.

when Sunghoon’s lips found the lips of your pussy, your back tensed up quickly, you grabbed Sunghoon’s hair with a moan as you jumped like a spring. your grip on his hair tightened and your moans got louder when Sunghoon started making out with your pussy without waiting.

Sunghoon’s grip on your hips tightened as you tried to get out of his grip while your tearful moans continued. you try to keep your voice down by pressing your lips with one hand, while your other hand is still on Sunghoon's hair. you could feel Sunghoon smirking at your reactions as he tongued your clit, ignoring the harsh tug on his hair.

"shit-so good.. ngh- please d-don't stop--"

you felt your body rush into relaxation, pressing Sunghoon’s head into your hips as you dug your nails into his scalp. when Sunghoon lightened his grip, allowing you to use him, you rolled your hips towards Sunghoon’s face, grinding against his tongue. you thought it was done when you chased another orgasm filled with lots of moans and tremors.

but Sunghoon didn't think like that.

he grabbed one of your legs, lifted it up, spread your legs and aligned his dick at your entrance, sliding inside without warning. you shook as tears of pleasure flowed from your eyes, digging your nails into the seat as you shivered and tried to catch your breath. Sunghoon slowly started to move as he straightened up and took off his shirt, throwing it to the side. before you could even taste the sight of his completely naked body, Sunghoon sped up. you were making meaningless sentences as he thrust into you faster, making you cry even more.

"fuck, look how wet you are.. you're really having fun, don't you princess?" Sunghoon's voice thinned slightly between his own moans, then a deep groan escaped from his throat. "yes, god, y-yes! S-Sunghoon-!"

Sunghoon thrusts hard into your cunt, as he grips your hips tightly, leaving fingerprints on your skin. Sunghoon continued talking as the two of you’re moans filled the room. "so tight f'me.. fuck.. you're too pretty to be real." you were too messy to even hear his compliments. your neatly styled hair was a mess, your makeup was smeared all over your face, your eyes barely distinguishing a straight line.

when you felt like you were going to cum again because of Sunghoon’s fingers playing with your clit, you wrapped your arms around Sunghoon’s neck in an effort to feel close. "hnghm— s-so good-"

Sunghoon didn’t resist your grip, leaning over you and letting you hug him as he began to leave passionate marks on your neck. your sobbing was the only thing that graced the room with your moans as you filled the young man’s back with marks with your nails. when Sunghoon’s lips found yours, you felt like you could barely hold in the kiss for all the moans you were letting out.

as your body tensed as you neared orgasm once again, Sunghoon noticed it too. while your waist was constantly moving up and down on the couch, Sunghoon kept you on the couch by pressing his hand hard on your waist, erecting you and increasing his play on your clit. "d-don't stop, please, mngh— S-sunghoon-oh—fuck!" as Sunghoon grinned at your messy state, he intensified his thrusts one last time as he felt close to cumming.

you came almost at the same time as your scream of pleasure and Sunghoon’s moan as he buried himself deep inside you. while you were waiting for your breath to recover, Sunghoon must not have thought so because his fingers on your clit continued their rapid movements, slowly moving in and out of you. "use your words, baby. show me you've learned your lesson."

you moaned at the movements in your sensitive pussy as your hips wiggled to escape Sunghoon’s movements. your lips parted quickly, you spoke without thinking. "Sunghoon, S-Sunghoon-please.. fuck, i-i learned my lesson, i, i am sorry, i am so sorry, p-please slow- fuck aghmn- i won't do it again—"

Sunghoon listened to your pleads until he was satisfied, then smiled and slowed down, pulling out. before removing his fingers from your clit, he gave your swollen pussy a light slap.

as your body collapsed weakly onto the couch, Sunghoon leaned over you and placed a few gentle kisses on your shoulders. as you both caught your breath, he got off you and gently helped you clean up with a towel he had picked up from the table. it was surprising to see that the man who was pressing you down into the couch a few minutes ago was the same man who was holding your legs as if they were porcelain that would break. but you liked it anyways.

Sunghoon leaned down and kissed your waist roughly as he cleaned you up. he hummed as his hand caressed your skin. "you okay? was i too rough?"

you felt your heart beat faster as you listened to Sunghoon’s words. you swallowed hard, avoiding his intense gaze and mumbled. "it's okay, i'm okay.. i.. i rally enjoyed it.." Sunghoon smiled and left a few more kisses on your skin before cleaning you completely.

—

okay, let's start from the beginning. here you are, giving a trailer with red cheeks to your idol friends gathered at your house.

Karina said while laughing excitedly. "okay okay, just tell us, was it big?"

the girls laughed at you as you pressed your head against Kazuha's shoulder next to you, the images flashing before your eyes. another question from Rei filled the room. "was he rough? did he aftercare?"

as you shook your legs in embarrassment and anger and lifted your head, the girls must not have finished messing with you because your groupmate Inchae asked you another question. "unnie, how many times he made you cum?"

the words had just escaped your lips when you couldn't stand the effort any longer and threw the chocolate packet in your hand at Inchae.

"yes it was so good I cried because of pleasure! are you happy!?"

as the girls' teasing filled the room, you were distracted by a message on your phone. you swallowed hard as you read the message on the screen, trying to suppress your racing heart.

"be ready at 8 pm on Sunday, I need to meet my little brat properly."

[shanastoryteller]

Congrats on finishing See Something Say Something!! I checked the notification of the first AO3 email sent out and you initially planned on five chapters.

Would you say that the ending changed considerably since you started in October? Or has that stayed the same?

thank you!

it stayed the same lol. while my fics getting wildly out of control and becoming way longer than i anticipated is pretty common, i'm pretty much never changing overarching plot when this happens. the story that i become interested in telling is typically the story then i end up telling

almost every story can be made shorter or longer. it's less about what happens and more about how that information is conveyed. things that really tend to affect writing length are perspective and breathing room

the shortest fic i have on ao3 that's not part of a series is You Were (Not) Meant For Me (posted 11 years ago, jesus T_T). the premise is that claudia was a witch who intended trained stiles to be a witch and she arranged his marriage to laura hale, the future hale alpha. this is a traditional pairing as talia's husband was also a witch married to talia in service of the pact. except claudia died before she could train stiles or tell him about the engagement. stiles starts learning magic after scott is turned. derek falls for stiles and feels like he's betraying his sister by loving him, betraying stiles by not being the alpha he deserves and not telling him about the arrangement claudia made, and hates himself the entire time, but not enough to stop himself

that's a 100k fic easy

it's 1,696 words

it's extremely limited perspective (derek's) and it's made up only of limited snapshots of moments with very little context. there's no seeing what's happening, only told, which i think would quickly grow boring if it was longer and if the real point of the story wasn't derek's self hatred and how he fails to deal with it. that's the part of the story that isn't told, really - derek does think explicitly that he hates himself, but we're also seeing it in the way he talks and thinks about himself and the people around him

by contrast we have survival is a talent, which is obviously my longest fic. we're over 500k and we've got quite a bit to go

perspective doesn't just refer to character pov, but audience pov - are you being told a story, or are you experiencing the story? this is also tied into breathing room. there's no wrong way, i've done both and will do both, but one certainly requires more words than the other in my experience

siat is told only through draco and harry's perspective, but it's all happening in real time. the audience is being taken along for this story. the thing is that that things in real life don't all come tumbling one after another, not all questions have immediate answers. when depicting character growth and a plot unfurling, i think it's really important to include breathing room to give the audience time to feel that growth and change. i'm stricter about this with siat than anything else i've written, probably sometimes to its detriment. i want you and the characters to have time to feel the effects of emotional revelations and plot hints. i want you to have the time to question and wonder about things the same way the characters do

one time a friend criticized the good place for including the portion where they were alive again on earth because it wasn't as interesting as being in hell, but i disagree. we needed that breathing room both to live with the effects of character growth of going through hell and to have time for the effects of their actions on the plot to settle before they moved forward again. i stopped watching agents of shield because we weren't given enough breathing room - there was never a chance to see the characters not in crisis, the world was always ending, ect. the alchemyst book series has the first like 3 books taking place over a day and a half. i got tired of it after that. there's no breathing room

a story where i gave up on the concept of breathing room was build your wings on the way down. i liked that fic, but i wanted it finished, and to do it with i think optimal pacing would have made it twice as long as it was. so i said screw it, avalanche time, everything is happening all at once right now. there's very little breathing room there, which i think doesn't work too terribly in part because everything is so urgent and everyone is stressed so not being able to catch you breath sort of fits

See Something Say Something did not need to be 215k, although i'm not at all complaining. i feel very happy with how i told this story. but the basic premise - sam getting his powers early, getting involved in the large hunter world secretly from his family, and dean feeling misplaced and worried about how much sam needs/wants him - could have been told a hundred different ways and all would have pulled it off, so to speak

i considered doing the the entire fic from dean's pov (as a sam girl i love his pov because all he thinks about is sam and he's so insane about it) which would have effectively cut out basically the first five chapters. i thought exploring the slow realization of what's going on purely from dean's pov, with the audience having not insight would have been really interesting, just like what I did in dumb luck or good ghost with dean slowly figuring out that sam didn't die in the crash. another thing is the inclusion of all the side characters which i did to make the world feel rich and real, but we didn't need all these outsider povs to get the basic point across. very rarely is something vital being conveyed by an outsider pov, but it reinforced and adds to the main characters. i also initially didn't have wincest, which obviously added a ton of words. i loved exploring dean's self hatred and fear and sam's obliviousness, but bringing them to a place of ignorance to acceptance to happiness is a lot longer of a journey than just dealing with dean's propriety love as an unhinged co-dependent older brother. again, i'm sticking by all these choices, i made them because i thought it was the best way to the tell the story i was most interesting in telling, but my point is that you didn't need them to tell this particular story

it was also how i told the story. we spend a lot of time wallowing in character's emotions, especially dean's and sam's, but the others as well. part of this fic is convincing you that these two brothers should fuck, actually, and doing that effectively is going to take some time, especially at this point in their lives when things are pretty normal. comparatively, fucking your brother after starting the apocalypse is pretty small potatoes. i wanted you to understand these people, to feel what they were feeling, to not feel that it was inconceivable that jess would be willing to share her boyfriend with his brother, to buy all their relationships with each other in a way that isn't purely based on convenience

part of the reason i wrote dumb luck or good ghost before see something say something was that i felt i needed a firmer grasp on who the characters are before getting into who they were and who they could be - especially john, who i feel is exceptionally difficult to write without over excusing his actions or over villainizing them. the reason john doesn't get a single pov in see something say something is that while he's a motivating and underlying factor in much of the story, the story isn't about him. it's about the effect he has on those around him, and i didn't want to sully the pureness of that effect by introducing his internal dialogue, regardless of how persecutionary or absolving it would be. it's just not about him. it's how he responds to others and how they respond to him in turn

anyway! this is another example of something ending up longer than expected, but yeah. the plot of see something say something didn't change much from posting of the first chapter and my stories rarely do - i have plot points in siat that have been there since i posted the first chapter that are still relevant and happening. "harry and draco just. cut dumbledore's fucking hand off" my beloved

[revelboo]

My soul is yours for more Jazz 🙏 He's my absolute favorite, I love that big flirty liar so much, I'm so down bad for him

Sure!

Over It Now Pt 22

Jazz x Reader

• “Primus, I love you,” he groans, hips moving against you. And your breath catches, because it’s just sex. He doesn’t mean it. He’d just blurted it out like that about sparking you, whatever that is. It’s not like you’re under any delusions that this can work long term between you. That this can mean anything more than this. And those words only remind you that you’re a temporary diversion for him. Nothing more.

• Didn’t mean to just blurt it out like that anymore than he had about sparking you. Had imagined something romantic, figuring out your human courting rituals and doing this right. But you’re silent. Eyes shifting away instead of meeting his optics. Like maybe this is all of you he’s allowed. And it hurts, but he gets it. That you can’t love a liar. That he’s good enough for a frag, but not to keep around. But Primus it hurts. So much more than he'd thought it would. Slipping free of you, he lets you untangle yourself from him. Why won't you even look at him? "That was amazing," you say, offering him a smile, but its stilted and uncomfortable. A lie and he should know.

• Something shifted and you can feel the tension. He’s back to playing a part, lazily smiling. But there's a hardness to his jaw as he ignores you to right his plating, hiding away his spike. "Yeah. Sure, kitten. You were great." And his tone is neutral, whatever he's really thinking hidden behind that mask of smiling indifference like he had when you’d first met him. And maybe that was all he was after. Sex. Maybe he’s over you now. And you keep thinking about him blurting that he loved you. Another lie? You’d wanted it to be real, not just words. But who blurts it out like that during sex and actually means it? And it hurts because you’ve been falling for him. Think you might even love him.

• Watches you wrap your arms around yourself, awkwardly getting up and hobbling with your cast to the couch to pull a colorful throw around yourself, hiding your body from him. "So, you going to spark me?" You ask, voice awkward and teasing and that ache in his spark expands. Knows you don't understand how badly those words mock him, how much it hurts. That he'd offered you everything, confessed to you and you'd not said anything at all.

• "Drop it, doll." Not even a smile now, his expression is so oddly empty it's unsettling. And you catch his arm when he tries to walk past you. Leaving. "Really. You wanna let go of me." There's an edge to his voice you've never heard before but it makes the fine hair at your nape prickle. Yanking his arm free and walking past you and your own temper flares, hurt that you mean so little. All those days waiting for you. Sitting together talking. Laughing and getting to know each other. None of it meant anything?

• "So that's it? You just wanted to be fucked?" Stopping short at the angry edge in your voice, he doesn't quite trust himself right now. Feels almost out of control as he vents raggedly, internal fans a soft hush. You really want to play the victim now? He'd been honest with you, laid it all on the line and you hadn't been able to give him anything in return. And you're angry?

• "You couldn't even entertain me, could you? Lie to me and say it back." Low, drawling voice sharpening into a snarl, he still won't look at you as his big hands curl into fists at his sides. Say it back? Wait. Breath catching you stare at his back as his door wings drop. Had he actually meant it?

• "No one just blurts that stuff out in the moment and means it," you protest and he glares at you over his shoulder. No, because you still think he's a liar. Always smiling and lying. And why would you think he'd been honest then? Isn't that all he does? Turning and walking away, he hears you hobbling after him. "Wait. Jazz." Ignoring you, he keeps moving and then freezes as something shatters against his back. "I said wait, you idiot." Your face is red and angry when he turns, chin lifting as he looks at the broken glass you'd thrown littering the floor near his peds then at you. "I love you, too."

• And he's just staring down at you, door wings flicking slightly before slowly lifting some. Gasping when he rushes you and hooks his arms around you under your butt, hauling you up off the floor, nearly banging your head on the ceiling fan as he presses his face against you, whatever he's saying muffled against your skin. His servos almost bruising on you. Still irritated at him, but also feeling oddly light. You have no idea how this will work, but you want it to. Want him to stay.

Previous

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter six

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a love confession, a PR scandal, and an explanation (5.2k)

a/n: don’t hate me for this folks 😅 things are going to be fine with our favorite couple, don’t worry! (or are they??? guess you’ll just have to read and see mwahaha)

previous chapter | masterlist

Somehow Lando convinces you to stay the night with him after spending a little quiet time together at his place once the jet lands, instead of going home like you’d originally planned. You won’t go into detail, but it involved little talking and a lot more kissing. 

He lets you shower off the nightclub musk first, and only when you’ve made yourself comfy in his bed can you shoot a text to your friends. 

You: staying at lando’s tonight. no need to wait up for me, he’ll drop me off at ours in the morning

Samira: ouuu get it girl 

Maren: be safe wear protection etc etc 

You: GOD no not like that you perverts

Camille: sure 👍🏼

Camille: is he reading over your shoulder? WE’RE ONTO YOU NORRIS. 

You: i hate you guys ❤️

Maren: why are u still texting us go spend time with ur man 

“Everything good?” 

Lando’s toweling his hair dry as he walks into the room, wearing only a pair of shorts. He’s a bit sunburnt on his chest and shoulders from today, but he’s still got that aftersun glow about him as he makes his way over to you. He collapses dramatically beside you on the mattress, wasting no time in sprawling into your space with a content sigh. 

“Yep, fine. The girls say hi and goodnight,” You say airily, putting aside your phone. Lando lets out a noncommittal hum, too busy with making himself comfortable next to you to form a response. In the end, he finally settles with an arm thrown across your thighs, face pressed into your side snugly. 

Your fingers trace the dip of his spine gently, coming up to brush over his reddened skin. “You’re all burnt, Lando.”  

“Sun cream is for wimps,” He mumbles, words muffled. “I’m tough.” 

“You might rethink that when your skin starts to peel.” 

“Did you have fun?” He asks, changing the subject in favor of aiming a hopeful smile up at you. 

“I did. I still can’t believe you’re friends with Martin Garrix, though.” 

Lando chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re still hung up on that?” 

“Uh, yeah! Normal people usually don't know world famous musicians!” 

“Guess I’m not normal then, am I?” 

“No, you’re not,” You hum, pushing his damp curls away from his forehead. His face screws into an overdramatically offended look that makes you giggle. “You’re not normal, you’re better.” 

“Good save, that,” He mumbles, face morphing into what has to be the most fond, heart-melting, doe eyed expression you’ve ever been looked at with.

What you say next seems to fall out of your mouth before you realize just what you’re doing. All you know is he’s gazing at you like you’re holding up the moon and the stars, and suddenly it feels like exactly the moment to say what you’re thinking. 

“I think I’m in love with you too.” 

Funnily enough, Lando’s eyes widen the same way Max’s did when he’d accidentally told you. “What?”

“I love you too,” You say, though a little more unsure this time. There’s a key difference between your first and second confessions, but saying it out loud the first time only solidified what, deep down, you think you’ve already known. 

You love Lando. You’re in love with Lando, and you want him to know. 

Only now he’s staring at you like you’ve just told him some deep dark secret that he wasn’t supposed to know, which definitely isn’t the response you thought you’d get from him, and it makes your brain kick into overdrive. 

Max had seemed entirely genuine at the time, but maybe he was just messing with you. Maybe your entire relationship with Lando was some sort of a prank, or god forbid, a fucking bet. The thought had crossed your mind at the beginning, but you’d shoved it aside because Lando was so charming and so painfully your type that you were willing to take the leap. 

Less than two weeks. It took less than two weeks to fall in love with the boy in front of you, less than two weeks for you to put your heart into his hands and pray that he wouldn’t break it. The heart that he’d already wormed his way into and made his home.

It’s definitely fast, you’re fully aware of the fact. At the beginning, you weren’t expecting to get into anything serious. Telling yourself you’d let things play out, let whatever was to happen happen, prepared to leave any and all thoughts of Lando behind if things didn’t work out. 

You didn’t actually think you’d end up in love with him, and for some reason, it scares you more than you could’ve ever imagined. There’s something terrifying about falling in love, but something even worse than it was him not feeling the same. 

“How did you—” He stops mid-sentence, looking so utterly floored you’ve figured it out that you forget any and all previous doubts of Lando not sharing your feelings. “Have I been that obvious?” 

“Max let it slip.” 

He lets out a groan, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily before opening them again. “Max couldn’t keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it, the twat.”

“Y’know, he said the same thing,” You giggle quietly. 

“Because it’s true! His big mouth has been getting me into trouble since the day we met.” 

“Do you think falling in love with me is trouble?” 

“No! God, no, absolutely not,” Lando insists, shaking his head. In one fell swoop, he manages to shift the both of you so you’re on top of him now, sitting on his thighs with a leg on either side of him. His hands travel up from your waist to cup your face in his palms reassuringly. “The opposite, really. I think you’re the best thing to ever happen to me. I just…I wanted to tell you on my own terms. Had it all planned out too.” 

“Oh yeah?” You hum, hooking your fingers over his biceps. “What'd you have planned?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teases, grinning from ear to ear. You make a pleading noise from the back of your throat, but he just shakes his head, zipping his lips with an imaginary key and pretending to hold it high above his head. 

You play along, going to reach up for it, but Lando leans forward, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. It’s a total distraction move, and it works. You forget all about what his plans could’ve been, the thoughts quelled by his mouth on yours, kissing you sweetly. 

Your hands slide over the broadness of his shoulders without thinking, fingertips pressing into lean muscle to keep yourself upright. 

“Ow, fuck—” He hisses, pulling away from you with a wince. Thinking you’ve hurt him, your eyes go wide. “Sunburn,” He explains hastily. 

You scramble off of him. “I am so sorry!”

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m fine, let’s just—” He leans in for another kiss, but the moment is over now. 

You snuggle into his side, splaying a hand over his chest. Your fingers immediately go to toy with his necklace. “What will things be like when your break ends, when we have to go back to our separate lives?” 

If your question catches him off guard, he doesn’t show it. He just sighs like he’s been thinking about the same thing, rubbing a hand down your arm. “Honestly? I’m not sure. Tried not to think of it much, really.” 

“It’s coming soon.” Your voice is almost a whisper, like saying it as soft as you can would make the day you have to leave each other never come. “Too soon.”

“Too soon,” He echoes sadly. “Do you—I mean, would you want to go public?” 

The first answer that pops into your head is no. 

No, you don’t want to make your relationship known to the public. Lando is a celebrity, and within that territory comes many things you aren’t comfortable with sharing. And it might be selfish of you for the thought to even cross your mind, but part of you doesn’t want to share Lando with the world. 

You’ve gotten used to your peaceful little bubble the last few weeks, and once he returns to racing, that bubble will be popped. It might only be a matter of time before people start to figure things out, and you’re not ready for that. Until you part ways, you don’t even want to think about it. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lando murmurs, drawing you out of your spiraling thoughts. His hand is on your face again, cradling your cheek tenderly, thumb rubbing over your cheek. “We’ll keep things under wraps. I’ve got no problems with that.” 

“You don’t?” 

“You sound surprised.” 

“I’m not,” You say immediately. You must not sound very convincing, because Lando tilts his head in question. “I mean—maybe I am? I just thought you’d want to, y’know, go out and stuff. Press events and races, like the other drivers’ partners.” 

“You’ve been looking?” He sighs, but not unkindly. More like an oh, I wish you hadn’t kind of way. 

“Yeah. A little.” You feel a little embarrassed admitting it, but you just wanted to know what might be expected of you as Lando’s girlfriend. 

In doing so, however, all you’ve done is hurt your own feelings. In your hours long deep dive about Formula 1 WAGs, as you’ve come to learn they’re called, there seem to be some commonalities.

They’re all brilliant, accomplished women. Some of them are models, some athletes, some businesswomen. Everything about them seems pristine and polished, always perfect. From their makeup, to their clothes, even their posture is perfect. You, on the other hand, you’re nothing like them. You’re not a model, you’re not as accomplished or as brilliant, and yeah, most of the time you slouch when you sit. 

You’re just…you. 

And for some reason, Lando likes you. Loves you. That should be enough for you, and you hate that it isn’t. 

You hate that at the very back of your brain, the thought that you’re not good enough for him digs its way into your self conscience, burrowing deep into the pit of your stomach. It has its claws in you, and it isn’t letting go any time soon. You’re not sure it ever will. 

“You’re spiraling again, baby,” Lando chides lightly, bringing you back to the present moment once more. You meet his gaze again, thinking you’ll find pity, but seeing nothing but adoration. He bumps your chin with his knuckles lightly. “I love you. Not who you think you should be.” 

Your heart swells so big you’re certain it might burst out of your chest. Lando knew exactly what you needed to hear in this moment of self doubt and didn’t hesitate to tell you. 

You smile at him, leaning forward to press your lips against his with all the love and affection you can muster, because words aren’t enough to explain just how lucky you are to have found someone like him. 

Lando sighs against your mouth, having no hesitation in swinging himself to hover over you. 

You let him nudge you back gently against the pillows, knees falling apart easily to accommodate the thigh he slots between them, and it has him pushing in even closer, chasing the breath right out of your chest with the way he’s kissing you. 

Safe to say, sleep does not take you until a long while later, not until you're both wearing a lot less clothes, tangled in each other’s embrace, fighting to keep your eyes open. Lando tells you he loves you one more time before you drift off for good, a whisper pressed against your temple in the darkened room. 

You’ll sleep well tonight with the ease of knowing that there is no question of how Lando feels about you, about your relationship. Everything is perfect. 

-------

“No, that’s bullshit. I’m not doing that. I don’t care if that’s what they want, I’m not doing it.” 

Lando’s hushed voice is what wakes you up, quiet but still sharp. Firm. 

Light from the bathroom pours in one beam through the cracked door on the other side of the room, piercing the darkness of early morning. You can see him pacing back and forth too, phone pressed to his ear, and it piques your concern. Whoever is on the other side of the line has obviously said something to get him heated. 

Work again, maybe? 

“Is everything okay?” You yawn, squinting at him through the sleep in your eyes as he shuffles back into the bedroom after the call ends.  

“Sorry for waking you,” He says stiffly. You pull yourself into an upright position.

“S’okay. What’s wrong?” Lando just tosses his phone into the mess of clothes in his bag on the chair. You’ll take that as a no, everything is not okay, and yes, something is wrong. “Lando.” 

He sits at the edge of the bed, facing away from you, elbows braced on his knees. You scoot towards him, smoothing a gentle hand over his back as your chin presses into his shoulder, his skin still warm under your fingers. You’re not sure what's wrong, but whatever it is, you’re there for him. 

“There’s pictures of us from the other night, at the club, and the beach. People took pictures of us together and now they’re all over social media.” 

Your heart sinks. “Oh. That’s not great, is it?” 

“No. Not really.” 

“Was that your PR officer calling?” You ask. Lando nods. “What did they say?” 

“Best to not go online today. And turn off your notifications too, because they’ll find you fast. Honestly, just turn off your phone.” He stands abruptly from the bed, away from you, pacing and muttering and raking his hands through his hair. You can almost see the cogs in his brain spinning from where you are.

This is foreign territory to you. You haven’t the slightest idea on how to deal with a situation like this one. You’re not even sure Lando fully does, given the way he’s acting right now. 

Still, it feels…violating. Having photos taken of you without your knowledge or consent, then having those photos spread around like they’re some sort of gossip. Even more so because you’ve felt safe around Lando up until this moment. 

Now he’s telling you to stay offline, to turn off your phone because strangers on the Internet will find you. You don’t even want to know what’ll happen when they do. 

“Will you slow down for a minute, please?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. He doesn’t answer, just continues in his back and forth actions. “Can we talk about this, or have you gotten everything about our relationship figured out on your own already?” 

It’s a bit petty, a little bratty of you. Of course he hasn’t gotten much of anything figured out—he’s only just been made aware of the situation that had likely progressed overnight. It isn’t something he should be having to deal with on his summer break, but he does. 

He stops in his tracks, stares at you blankly, and for a second, you think he’ll sit down and listen to you. But then he’s on the move again, rifling through his bag for something. “I think I should take you home.” 

You let out a sharp exhale, raising a skeptical brow. “Are you serious right now?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be? This isn’t a joke, this is my image we’re talking about.” He procures a wrinkled shirt from the depths of his bag, wasting no time in pulling it over his head. 

That leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You’re very aware that you have no idea what it’s like for him, no idea what it’s like to have your every move be so up for public speculation. That being said, you do know how a biting jab like that makes you feel. 

“Your image!” You chuckle wryly. “Oh, I’m so sorry, you’re right. You need to keep up your image, my bad.” 

There goes the tic in his jaw again. He’s still not making eye contact with you either, which irks you to no end. “Let me find my keys, I’ll drive you home.” 

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just take an Uber. Wouldn’t want to put your image at risk any more than I already have.” You throw the blankets off yourself, going to find your clothes yourself. 

Lando lets out a frustrated noise from the back of his throat. He’s probably just as ticked off as you are, but you're not really thinking of that right now. “C��mon, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll drive you home, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. He’s being all pissy like this and he still has the nerve to call you that. You fight to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at the nickname. You’re still getting used to it. Right now, you have a love hate relationship with it. 

“Fine.” 

That’s the last word said by either of you until you're almost back to your place. By this point, you've cooled down considerably. You’ve gathered your thoughts enough to realize you were being a little bitchy about the situation. He’s frustrated, you're frustrated, but it's not either of your faults. 

The car pulls to a stop and the doors unlock automatically, so technically you could just let yourself out without saying anything at all. You almost do, but you don't want to leave things the way they are with Lando right now. 

“I love you,” You say softly, carefully watching him for a reaction. 

The clench in his jaw softens almost imperceptibly, but the crease between his brows, the set of his shoulders, the laser focus he's got on something off in the distance, those still remain. 

It’s an entire world away from the way his face had lit up brighter than the sun when you said the exact same three words to him for the first time, just last night. “Text me when you get back so I know you're home safe?” 

“Yeah, sure.” His voice is clipped, void of any emotion. He doesn't want to talk. That you can see loud and clear. 

Still, you try again. “I’m sorry about the photos, Lan.” 

“Not your fault.” 

It’s not your fault either, you want to say. You want to look him in the eyes and tell him everything will be okay, that things will work out in the end. You don't—you can’t—because he’s angled himself away from you. 

Tears burn at the edges of your eyes and you think you can feel your heart crack a little bit, but you will yourself to get out of the car before he can see them fall. The last thing you need is to add to whatever is going on inside his head right now. 

Yeah, maybe you’d been a little combative with him at first, but at the end of everything, you love him now. You still want to figure things out together. But judging by the way he won’t even look you in the eye right now, it isn’t what he wants. 

How could you go from basking in the light of newfound love to barely being able to get a word out of him, with just one phone call? A phone call about you, your relationship with Lando, one where you don’t even know what was said. 

You hear him pull away as soon as you shut the door behind you. 

Is it bad that a small part of you is glad he waited for you to get inside? It means he still cares about you enough to make sure you’re in safely, even though he might be upset with you. 

Then you’re hit with the fact that he is upset with you, and that sliver of hope vanishes. 

You sink down onto the cold tile of the entryway, back against the door. Everything was so good and now it’s all going to shit, and you hate to think about how you’ve messed things up. 

“Tell us everything and don’t leave a single detail—” Maren’s gleeful shout dies in her throat the second she comes barreling around the corner and sees you on the floor with your head in your hands. 

She’s quick to call for the other two, rushing to your side in a second and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

“I’m gonna kill him. Do I need to kill him?” Samira sounds beyond angry. You’ve only ever seen her this angry a few times, all of which you were glad to have never been the source of. 

Camille hushes Samira’s threats, kneeling by your other side. “What happened?” 

“Too much,” You mumble, half muffled by the sleeve of your jumper. Lando’s jumper. You want to rip it off and chuck it in the bin, but it’s the same one he’d been wearing the first night you spent together—soft and well loved, smelling like his cologne. Instead, your hands clench into fists around the worn cotton, squeezing the material tight between your fingers. 

You eventually find your way to the couch, where you remain until nightfall nears, a half empty bottle of wine sitting open on the coffee table in front of you while your comfort show plays quietly on the television. Realistically, you should be getting ready to go for a night out on the town, but you’re all in your pajamas, curled up against each other nicely. 

You’d managed to tell them what was going on through tears that had stopped a while ago, but the thought of Lando putting up walls to keep you out of the situation still burns bright in your mind. 

The doorbell rings suddenly and you wrinkle your nose, confused. 

Camille untangles herself from the pile, squeezing your hand gently. “I’ll get it! It’s probably our food.” You didn’t even know she’d ordered dinner, but you won't complain. All this wallowing in your hurt feelings has really spurred an appetite. 

But then Maren and Samira leave for the door too and you're alone on the couch, even more confused. 

“Don’t get mad at us, okay?” 

Your mouth pulls into a confused frown at your friends who’ve just reappeared, but then you see Lando step into the room. He looks disheveled and just like you were hoping he’s been feeling—guilty. 

Your eyes flick to the girls. You don’t feel betrayed, but rather the thought of them reaching out to Lando brings you a surge of love. 

They’ve always known what you need, even if you don’t know it yourself. 

“You two need to talk things out, so we’ll be in the kitchen. But if you make her cry again and I’ll kick your pretty rich boy ass, I swear to—” The rest of Samira’s threat is cut off by the other two pulling her out of sight. 

That just leaves you and Lando, staring at each other, expressions unreadable. He steps forward, hesitant feet bringing him to the edge of the couch, where he perches awkwardly. 

“Hey,” He says meekly, shoving his hands into the big pocket of his jumper. You can’t bring yourself to greet him back. “You weren’t answering any of my texts or calls.” 

He looks like he wants to reach out for you but refrains himself from doing so. You’re partly glad he does, because if he did, you’re not sure you could’ve stopped yourself from burying yourself in his arms. 

Instead, you stare at him blankly. “You told me to turn off my notifications.” 

Lando sucks in a breath through his teeth, head bobbing slightly. “I did say that, didn’t I?” 

“You shut me out, Lando. You wouldn’t even tell me what was happening,” You grit out. You’re hurt, to say the least. You hope he knows that. “Don’t you think I have the right to know what’s going on?” 

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry,” He insists, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean to shut down like that. I guess I’m just used to doing these kinds of things on my own, y’know? Usually when my name trends on social media, it’s something I’ve done. Something I’ve got to deal with the aftermath of. But now, this time…” 

“This time, there’s me,” You finish, frowning.

“Yeah. It isn’t just my life I have to think of, it’s yours too. Having your every move watched and judged by people who don’t know you is the last thing I want for you to have to go through. I can handle it because it comes with the job, but you shouldn’t have to. It isn’t fair to you.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“Isn’t it? We’re in this situation because of me. Because of who I am.” 

“You didn't ask for this. Like you said, it comes with the job, no matter what you do.”

“Yeah, but I—”

“Lando, I’m not mad that the photos got leaked, I was hurt because you just took me home and left me here without telling me what was going on,” You say. Your voice only wavers the tiniest bit, and you fight it even more. “It felt like you didn't want me to have any input on our relationship, and that's not what a relationship is supposed to be like. At least, not one that I want to be in. I would hope you’d feel the same way.” 

“I do. Baby, I do feel the same way. I love you, and I should’ve said it back in the car, I know. And I was angry this morning, but not at you, and I should’ve made that clear too. I was upset and I made some rash decisions, and I’m so sorry,” He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them again, there's pain swirling within them. “I just wanted something to be just mine for once. I wanted our relationship, I wanted you to be that something, because in my life, everything is public. Even if I’d rather it not be, somehow it always ends up out there for the whole world to see, and I don’t want that for us. I know you don’t want that. I don’t ever want you to feel like you're giving up anything to be with me. That being said, I understand if you want to call things off.” 

He doesn’t look at you when he says it, but the pure sense of defeat in his tone makes your guarded posture finally soften.

Despite how things were left this morning, the thought of calling things off with Lando had never even crossed your mind. The fact that he thinks it was enough to make you want to break up with him has every ounce of frustration you have towards him leaving your body. 

“I don’t,” You say firmly. His head flies up, gaze snapping to yours, a mixture of relief and confusion. “I don’t wanna break up, Lan.”

“Thank god, ‘cause I don’t either.” Finally, he reaches a hand out towards you, and you feel okay enough to crawl over and curl into his side. He immediately presses a smattering of kisses against the side of your head that makes your stomach feel all fuzzy again. “I hate that your privacy was stripped away so soon.” 

“Honestly? Part of me knew something like this might happen,” You admit, pulling his arm around you snugly. “I’ve made my peace with it.” 

“You have?” 

You shoot him a tiny frown paired with a sharp exhale. “Well, obviously it’s not great, but it was bound to happen at some point, right?” 

“So you’re cool with it?” 

“I’m not ready to make it publicly official, if that's what you're asking. But I’m…not as upset as I thought I’d be.” You shrug, humming thoughtfully. “Can I ask what your team said on the phone?” 

Lando lets a mirthless scoff escape from the back of his throat. It stings less now that you know he's not upset with you for asking about it. “They wanted me to say you were just some random girl. That you were a fan, or something, and that I didn’t know you.” 

“Well, that seems a little excessive.” 

“Yeah, I know, I said the same thing! Nobody with half a brain would believe it either. I mean, just look at us.” He digs his phone out of his pocket, scrolling around until he finds what he’s looking for and flipping it around for you to look at. 

Turns out you’d been right on the nose about someone recognizing Lando at the club. The photo is grainy and a little blurry, but you can tell it's him cozied up behind you even though his head is tipped down. There’s no mistaking that messy head of curls. 

Then there’s the one at the beach, of the two of you holding hands as you walk along the shore with your heels dangling from Lando’s fingers. There’s a video too—Lando brushing your hair away from your face before leaning in to kiss you gently. 

It’s still an invasion of privacy, definitely, but there's something romantic about it. Like, at least it's nothing bad. It’s just an outwards expression of your love. You might not be quite ready to share that love with the world just yet, but one day, you might.

“Y’know, if you ignore the whole gossip mill of it all, the pictures are actually kinda cute.” 

“Ha! You think so?” 

“Sure do. My boobs look great in the club one.”

Lando draws his lower lip between his teeth, shamelessly zooming in on the specific photo. “Mm, yeah they do, huh?” 

You scoff, digging your elbow into his stomach lightly. “Stop that!” 

“What? You said it, I’m just agreeing!” He protests, holding his hands up in surrender. Then he tilts his head hopefully. “We’re okay now? I’m forgiven for being a big stupid idiot?” He asks, tilting his head hopefully. You chuckle, nodding, and he beams. “Mint! Love you.” 

“I love you too, you big stupid idiot.” 

"Fuck, I love hearing you say that."

"What, big stupid idiot?" You tease, dodging the decorative pillow Lando swings your way.

"Funny. The first part, obviously. Say it again for me?"

"I love you, Lan," You say again, looking directly at him.

The giddy smile that curves his lips and makes his whole face brighten is worth everything to you. You'd tell Lando you love him every single day if it'd make him happy.

“Am I allowed to ask you all to come over? Max is fetching Pietra from the airport and she wants to meet you all so badly, I don’t think I’ll be allowed back in the house if I don’t bring you back with me,” He says, smile turning sheepish. “D’you think the girls are gonna try to kill me?”

“Uh, I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure? It’s a yes or no answer, baby.” 

“I’m ninety percent sure you’ll be fine.” 

“Ninety?” 

“Eighty five.” 

“That’s so much worse.” 

When you inevitably do make it back to Lando’s villa, Max and Pietra have just arrived home too, still outside as Lando pulls up right next to their car. 

Max folds you into a hug once you’re in range, pausing briefly to say quietly into your ear, “I knew you’d work things out. I’d have kicked his ass if he didn’t.”

You squeeze his shoulder gratefully, because you know he’d had something to do with getting Lando to make things right. 

Pietra and Lando bicker kind of like siblings, but even then you can tell they're close. He introduces her to all of you, and she instantly melds in so seamlessly with you and your girls it feels like you’ve been friends for ages, chattering away about what Max has told her about your adventures in Greece so far.

Finally, things really are all perfect in your little world. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new chapter :)

[sensitivepluto]

I'll Carry You

Katsuki Bakugou x Gn!Reader

TW: slight angst/comfort, mention of injuries

This is my first time writing on tumblr and still learning the format. so...be gentle <3 I'll be making an introduction post later!

"You just gonna lay there?" Bakugou's gruff voice cut through your fuzzy thoughts like a knife. Every bone in your body was riddled with ache. Bruises and cuts covered you from head to toe from the fight you'd given everything to win. It was over now...The villain defeated, people were saved, the storm finally calmed. However, it left you and many other heroes injured and exhausted.

"Oi!" He shouted, snapping his fingers in your face. Had you dozed off? Maybe he was just upset that you hadn't answered him yet. When you finally looked up at him, you found he was much closer than he sounded. Weird. You thought. He was talking to you. His face contorted into that angry scowl you'd come to adore.

"Kats-" You cut yourself off. Too tired to even finish his name? He pressed a hand into your cheek with a gentleness most unlike him. Now that you had a good look at his face, you realize that anger isn't the glowing expression on his face, but you couldn't quite place it.

"Can you hear me?" He asked gruffly, but much softer than before. His eyes scanned your body over and over. Trying to find major injuries. You nodded at him absentmindedly.

" 'M tired..." You trailed off. He hummed and continued his thorough search over you.

"Can you stand?" He asked. You shrugged. You've been on the ground for who knows how long. How were you supposed to know if you could walk? He sighed and looped his arms under yours. If you weren't so out of it you would've blushed at the sheer closeness of him.

"Come on," He grunted, pulling you into a stand. You stood unsteady on your feet, holding onto him for dear life.

"I'm not going to let you fall, I just want to see if you can walk." He assured you. A whine of pain left your throat when you put weight on your right foot. Was it broken? When did that happen?

He noticed your grimace immediately and grumbled something inaudible to you. For just a moment when you were finally balanced on your left foot, he turned his back to you and crouched.

"Get on my back. Before your ass falls again. I'm taking you to first aid." He huffed at you. You nodded and with his help climbed onto his back. He got up, adjusted you, and began walking to the first aid station about a mile away.

A comfortable silence enveloped you and him. You hummed as you fought to keep your eyes open. It was difficult with how tired you felt and how warm his body was against yours. Apparently he noticed how your breath was slowing against his neck because he adjusted you again and jolted you awake.

"You okay back there?" He questioned. You were too out of it to realize the worry in his voice.

"Mhmmmm" You mumbled sleepily. "M just...tired."

"Don't fall asleep yet, ya hear. Wanna make sure you don't have a concussion first." He grumbled. You just nodded with a yawn, nuzzling your face further into his neck.

You were close to the first aid station, from what you could tell. You could hear people shouting directions at others in the distance. Your time so close to him was almost over. Another whine left you involuntarily.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah..." You yawned. "J'st love you."

He stopped in his tracks. You had started drifting off immediately after your revelation. His heart thumped seemingly in his throat. You loved him. You loved him.

A small, almost unseen smile graced his lips as he finished his trek to the first aid station. When he set you down on the cot laid for you, you fought weakly in your sleep to hold onto him. He smoothed his thumb over your furrowed brow. A sigh left his lips.

"Love ya too."

[spiderb00bs]

- Lying To Me, Lying To You

Tara Carpenter x reader  (request)

"Tara has lied to herself her whole life, and she thinks it's time for it to end” 

Genre – fluff, angst and Smut at the end          

Warnings – smut, and bit of internalized homophobia? 

Now playing – Lied To, by Zayn 

Tara Carpenter hadn't known you in a long time, not so much when she knew her sister, or her friends, or her boyfriend. Tara had known you for six months, six months fucked up with confusion and questioning. Young Carpenter didn't want to, she didn't want to be weird when you were around, saying weird trivia about horror movies to you, just because she couldn't sit still around you. She didn't want to watch every moment of you like a fucking crazy woman, not being able to take her eyes off you when you did the smallest things. And she definitely didn't want to walk away from Chad every time he got close to her. 

Chad was a good boy, he was kind, funny sometimes and he was very good at sports, he was everything a girl would want, right?! He also sided with Tara when all that Ghostface craziness happened. He was a nice guy. So why couldn't Tara love him like she should?

Tara's head was spinning, she was in the corner of the room, having already had more drinks than she could remember, and from that corner, she had the most beautiful view of the whole party, you. Talking to your other friends, you had a plastic cup in your hand. You wore baggy black jeans, and a shirt that fits your body well, Tara is sure she has seen many other people like this, but none of them had ever been as perfect as you. 

Tara wasn't alone, but she had run away from Chad an hour ago, trying to find a way to get away from the boy without hurting him. Tara felt bad, she felt like all the tears she'd held back since she met you were about to overflow. Tara wanted to cry, kick, scream at everyone, her body ached without your touch, and her eyes watered when she remembered all the minutes she couldn't be around you.    Tara wasn't confused, she never was. The denial, everything she convinced herself to live were just consequences of a fear that she had deep in her chest. She knew that what she felt for Amber – Before all the events – were not things that a straight girl felt for her best friend, she had lied practically her entire life. 

But with you, she couldn't contain herself, she was stronger than anything, even Amber. Tara wanted to die every time she saw you walk by, she wanted to die whenever she had to sit next to Chad when you and the rest of her friends hang out together. She wanted to be sitting next to you, she wanted to hold your hand, smell you, hear your laughter, she wanted to be with you.    The taste in Tara's mouth was bitter, and she couldn't really tell if it was because of the cheap drink she had, or because she wasn't in your arms, laughing at whatever stupid thing you were saying to your friends, and being introduced to them as your girlfriend. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Tara saw Chad, probably looking for her in the crowd. Being quick, Tara hurried her steps towards the kitchen, looking back to make sure Chad hadn't seen her, Tara bumped into someone, losing her balance and closing her eyes when she was sure she was going to fall to the floor. When she felt a hand holding her by the waist, Tara was relieved, but not as much as she was when she saw your face.    "YN!" Young Carpenter screamed, hugging you by the shoulders, and with that alone, you could tell she was drunk as fuck. "I was thinking of you."    "I hope good stuff." You said laughing. Tara had this power with you, to make you laugh even when you were anxious, or afraid, in which case, you were worried. "Where are the people? Or Chad?" You asked, looking around. 

"I don't know, I just wanted to be alone for a while." Tara said, if you weren't so worried, you sure would have noticed the way the woman was looking at you.    Tara's eyes sparkled, looking up, watching your entire face carefully and gently, as if you were the eighth wonder of the world, as if you would disappear if she took her eyes off you.    "Well, that's kind of impossible at a party." You said, laughing a little, but stopping when you saw Tara's gaze at you. "Hey, are you okay?"    The genuine concern in your voice made Tara melt, oh man, how much she wanted you so much. Every fiber of her body longed for you, and she was slowly starting to realize how stupid she was for neglecting herself for so long.    "Yes..." 

You didn't trust Tara's answer, something seemed wrong, almost as if she wanted to say something more. Her eyes were bright, but now, they looked more like accumulated tears.    "I think I'd better take you home, you've had too much to drink, Tara." with a nod, Tara followed you to your car, parked in front of the noisy house. She would go to the end of the world if it meant going with you.    In the car, Tara was a little thoughtful, she ran away from a party, ran away from her boyfriend, just to go home with you. She didn't think about anything, she just thought about what she wanted to do at that moment. Looking out the car window, Tara thought of all the possibilities that this night could end in, she could kiss you, she could get out of the car, say goodbye to you and never make contact with you again, until she and Chad got married and she lived a mediocre life with him. But once again, she would be lying to herself. 

You respected Tara's space, but in your head, you were freaking out too. You were with the girl you had a crush on since the day you saw her. You knew Tara was dating, you knew wishing to be with her was wrong, you knew she was straight, and you felt terrible about it.    The drive to Tara's apartment was quiet, thoughtful, and a little awkward, and accompanying Tara to her floor was even worse. Tara was still a little giddy from all the drinks she had, so you were constantly making sure she didn't miss the steps.    "All right, do you have your keys?" You asked, taking the key from Tara's hand as she handed it to you.    Opening the door, you waited for Tara to come in first, closing the door and going to the youngest of the Carpenters, who had thrown herself on the couch. 

“No, no, no. You have to go to your room, if Sam finds out I dumped you here she'll kill me.” You said, trying to pull the girl off the sofa.   

As you tried to pull Tara off the sofa, you were surprised when the short girl used more force and pulled you, making you fall on top of her on the sofa.   

“Tara!” You said, seeing the girl laugh, and unable to resist, you laughed along with Tara.   

“You didn't expect that, did you?” Tara said, still laughing.  

When the laughter started to die down, you realized how close you and Tara were, your breaths mingling and making the whole atmosphere more intense. You knew you should walk away, but Tara didn't have the same thought.   

Tara wanted you. She was tired of not getting what she wanted, she was tired of always putting herself second, neglecting what she really wanted. No, Tara wanted to end it, and as much as she hated hurting Chad, she knows she'll hate hiding it for longer. Then, when you least expected it, Tara's lips were glued to yours.   

 You were surprised, you wanted it, but it was wrong, Tara was in a relationship. Chad was your friend, and here you were, practically lying on top of her girlfriend, kissing her with all the desire you'd been holding back for six months.  

“Tara.” You tried to say, only to be drowned out by Tara's mouth. “Tara, that's wrong.” You said, finally pulling away from the young Carpenter and sitting down on the sofa.   

Your hands quickly went to your hair, brushing them back as you thought about how good and wrong that felt. Tara stood up, sitting down next to you, the two of you's breathing the only things that could be heard in the apartment.   

“I think I should go.” You said, getting up from the sofa.  

Quickly feeling your wrist being grabbed, you looked at Tara, who wasn't looking back at you. Tara was looking at the floor, you couldn't see it, but tears had started to gather in the young Carpenter's eyes. 

“Stay, please.” You sat down on the sofa immediately, it was as if your body was simply commanded by her and now you couldn't go anywhere.   

Sitting there again, Tara looked at you for the first time, you could see tears slowly making their way down her face, and you were confused as to why she was crying.   

“I like you.” It was the only thing she said. You were petrified, it seemed that she had finally put everything she had ever wanted to say out there.   

“What?”   

“I like you, Yn. I've liked you since the beginning, I know it's wrong, but I couldn't hide it any longer.” Tara replied, still holding your hand. 

“When you say it's wrong, you mean...” You looked into her eyes.  

 “No, not that. I don't feel wrong for liking you, I feel wrong for the way I said it to you.” Tara squeezed your hand tightly. “I've been lying to myself my whole life, Yn. And when I saw you for the first time I broke a little, you broke me little by little, until now. I can't hide it anymore because I'm in love, Yn.”   

You felt the young Carpenter start to tense up, tears streaming down her face and you clasped her hand in yours, trying to bring her some kind of comfort.   

“I don't like Chad, I never did. I can't love him the way he loves me, I can't love any guy, Yn. And I know I said, damn it, I knew I said it all along, I was just so scared...”   

A sob cut off Tara's speech, causing the girl to simply collapse in front of you. Quickly wrapped in your arms, Tara began to cry hard, sobbing, shaking and collapsing into you.   

You couldn't believe it, the girl you had fallen in love with was in love with you too. Your world had turned completely around, sirens were going off in your head, and an instant feeling of relief came over you. However, all this was quickly swept aside when you remembered that you had to comfort Tara.   

“All right, put it out.” You said, cradling Tara in your arms.   

Sniffling and trying to wipe away the tears that flowed, Tara pulled her face away from your chest, looking at you for the first time in a few minutes.   

“I'm sorry.” It was the first thing she said. Opening a slight smile of understanding, and putting the messy strands of Tara's hair back in place, you sighed.   

“Don't apologize. I like you too, Tara.” The sparkle in the young Carpenter's eyes seemed to return as soon as the words left your mouth. “I've really fallen for you, you're one of the most amazing, strong, funny and captivating people I've ever met.” A smile grew on Tara's face, she couldn't think of a better way for this conversation to go.   

“But there's still Chad.”  

“I'm going to break up with him.”   

Without even thinking twice, Tara said it looking you in the eye, how could you even doubt her when she said it with such certainty?  

“Wow, okay, wait.” You sat down properly on the sofa. “Tara, I love that you're finally okay, and that you're allowing yourself to be discovered, but take it easy.” You held the woman's hand.   

“I just want to get back everything I lost, Yn. Everything I lost with you.” Tara said, taking your face in her hands.  

“I know. But how about this, you take a week for yourself, think about what you want to do and think only about you. I'll be here anyway, waiting for you.” You say, taking her hands in yours and kissing them gently.   

At six in the morning, someone was impatiently ringing your doorbell. Fearing it might be a nutter, you made your way quietly to the door, still trying to get your eyes to focus and your mind to start working. It was too early, you'd just woken up, and whoever this crazy person was, you were going to kick their ass for waking you up so early on a free day.   

Trying to see what was bothering you so early through the peephole, all you could see was the top of a head, strands of brown hair falling over it, and at that moment you were even more confused, why was the Carpenter gnome knocking on your door so early?  

“Tara, what are you doing here so...” Before you could even speak, you were cut off by a Tara Carpenter jumping on you like a koala and kissing you lovingly.   

It was almost like a wife seeing her husband off to war, that was definitely love. The kiss was slow and loving, and you held Tara's thighs so that she had a foothold. Entering the apartment, you closed the door as you stood, going over to the sofa and settling the young Carpenter on your lap.   

“I broke up with him.” Tara said into the kiss, running her hands up your hair and messing it up even more. “I want you. Please, I'm crazy for you.”   

You had given Tara the week you told her about. She was discovering herself, doing the things she should have done a long time ago, while you were too busy with college exams. There wasn't much time left to meet up with your friends over the last few days, and it seems that someone missed you a lot.   

“Did you break up with Chad?” You asked, turning away from Tara to grab some oxygen before you were pulled into the young Carpenter's love cloud again.   

“I told you, Yn. I want you, I always wanted you.” Tara's eyes sparkled and her smile reflected yours.  

Moving closer again, you kissed, finally doing what you'd wanted to do since you first met. Tara's hands ran freely through your hair, while yours tightened around her waist. Pulling away slightly, Tara grabbed the hem of the shirt she was wearing, pulling it up and off, making you copy her movements.   

With one swift movement, you turned her around, making her lean back on the couch while you knelt in front of her. Distributing kisses across her collarbone, you traced your way down, and with quick hands, you removed the bra the younger Carpenter was wearing without wasting any time. Tara moaned when she felt your mouth on her nipple, and when you reached out and massaged the other nipple, she thought she was in heaven.   

After giving each nipple equal attention, you trailed your kisses down Tara's abs, running your hands along the button of her pants before directing your gaze at her.  

“Can I take these off you?” you asked, a look full of desire on your face as you eagerly played with the button of Tara's pants.   

“Do whatever you want to me, baby.” That's what you wanted to hear.  

Unbuttoning Tara's pants, you slid the fabric down the Carpenter girl's legs, climbing back up towards her intimacy and distributing kisses on her thighs. You could see the wet spot that had formed on Tara's panties, and looking down at her, you gave her clit a little kiss over the fabric, making her moan softly at you.  

Smiling, you removed Tara's panties and put her legs on your shoulders. The woman looked at you expectantly, her breathing was labored, and when you finally gave her the first lick, Tara could have sworn she saw stars. Throwing her head back, the woman enjoyed every movement of your tongue in her intimacy, grabbing your hair when your tongue went deep inside her for the first time.   

Tara didn't know sex could be so good, she had never experienced anything like it. The sensation was overwhelming, and every little stimulation she felt brought her to a paradise on earth. Tara had been eaten out before, but it was never like this, it never had the same passion, the same sensations, the same dedication and it certainly never had the same meaning.   

Your tongue ran through Tara's folds, finding new spots that even she didn't know existed, and suddenly, a noose began to form in the young Carpenter's bowels. Tara had cum before, she thought, she wasn't sure. But the point is, what had you done to her? Tara's legs began to tremble, her body spasmed in ways she couldn't control, and just as she was beginning to try to pull away, you held her in place.  

You didn't care about the noise complaints, and even if you did, you couldn't contain Tara's loud moans. Your hand, which was pressed a little lower on her abs, seemed to have awakened something inside the Carpenter girl, and in the midst of the spasms and moans, her juices began to flow, staining your lips and chin.   

Kissing her thighs, you waited for her to recover. Without even realizing that you had risen from your position on the floor, Tara was only brought out of her little world when you kissed her, making her taste herself on your lips.   

“I'm really in love with you.” Tara said, making you laugh.   

“Ready for one more or do you need a break?” 

“Can you go one more? Can we get married?” 

Hi guys, I wanted to start by saying that I haven't proofread this yet, cause I'm a bit busy organizing things for college. so if anything is wrong, please ignore it, I'll correct it later.

Also, I was going to put 'good lucky, baby' for this fic, but I'm just addicted to this Zayn song, and it kind of inspired me a bit.

But anyway, I hope you enjoyed this fic, I loved writing it.

stay safe, drink water

xoxo, spider

[joelmillerisapunk]

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.”

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[mickeys-been-staying-at-ians]

So Dean is fucked up after Cas is taken into the Empty obviously, all melancholy, no sleep, drinking too much, you know his gist. Sam probably tries to get him to talk about it, but he would never tell him everything Cas said, you know. So Dean is miserable, and Sam is miserable, but THEY DON'T STOP trying to get Cas back.

And they do, somehow. So Cas appears somewhere in the library or wherever they were Doing What Brought Him Back and there's a second of confused, vulnerable silence because this can't be real don't believe it's real he's gonna disappear and it's gonna suck all over again but he stays, and looks at Dean, and then Dean is hugging him, clutching him like... well, like everything that happened, happened, and they're breathing each other in. Cas hasn't had the chance to think about what it all means, yet, so he's not overthinking it. Then they break apart, and Dean has tears in his eyes and his lower lip is shaking, and while Sam hugs Cas, too, Dean's body is like, shutting down, months of exhaustion (physical and emotional) catching up to him, and he feels it coming, so when Sam gets Cas to sit down, making him drink some water, Dean's like "I'm just gonna-" and he's running into his room and he doesn't even make it inside before he starts sobbing. He's sitting against his bed, his face in his hands, all wet now, when Sam comes in. Maybe he knocked, maybe not, Dean couldn't hear him. And he tries to cover himself a little, but Sam sees anyway, and he's so tired, so he just. Doesn't care.

And Sam says, "Dean, don't hide from him" and Dean isn't sobbing anymore but he's still crying into his palms, saying "I'm so tired, Sammy" and Sam knows. He doesn't know what happened between Dean and Cas but Cas said he did something and now Dean wouldn't feel comfortable around him. So, you know. Sam can guess, a little.

So he says, "He thinks you don't want anything to do with him anymore" and "you should go talk to him" and Dean is like "I can't" and he doesn't know why, maybe because he's exhausted, or because he doesn't know what to say to him , or because Cas sacrifised himself for him again, or because he told him he loved him and turned Dean's world upside down and disappeared, or maybe because he's scared.

And Sam knows this is all happening in Dean's head and he knows some of it is whispered to him in their dad's voice, so he says, "you know nothing in the world would ever change how I think of you," and Dean's head snaps towards him, wet with bloodshot eyes, confused and terrified, but he doesn't say anything, so Sam asks, "what really happened down there?" and Dean knows Sam knows. There's a hand squeezing his heart and lungs and he can't breathe, and Sam knows, and Dean wishes he could go back to when it wasn't even an option.

"He's your best friend," Sam says, and he is, he is, he's Dean's best friend, above all else, it's not just sacrifises and battles and blood and desperate confessions, it's also movies and music and inside jokes, so Dean asks Sam to get Cas. He does, and leaves them in Dean's room alone. And Dean says "don't ever die for me again" and "you think you saved me but i was barely alive" and "next time we die together" which is maybe a little fucked up, but he's feeling so raw. He says, "you're my best friend" and looks at Cas, hoping Cas hears everything he isn't saying, how Cas is the most important person in all the universes to Dean. He's family, but he doesn't say that, doesn't want Cas to think he's family like anyone else, because Cas is more. To Dean, Cas is- something Dean won't say yet, but he is.

And they have a quiet dinner with Sam because they're all tired, and Cas showers while they turn on the TV and bring out a couple of beers, and they act like it's a normal day in their life. Dean's head keeps falling and his eyes keep closing, his temples aching, but he stays, and at some point Sam goes to sleep, and when they're alone Cas tries to get Dean to go, too, but he keeps coming up with lame excuses to stay and Cas doesn't know what to make of it until he thinks maybe Dean doesn't want to be alone, or even - maybe Dean doesn't want to leave Cas alone, maybe he's scared something will happen to him again, or maybe he wants to just - be with Cas longer. And Cas is completely out of his element, because why would Dean- But it doesn't matter. His priority has always been Dean's well-being, so if there's any chance Dean is pushing himself because of - some of that, Cas will step up.

So he asks Dean if he can sleep in Dean's room tonight because he doesn't want to be alone. And there's a blaring red light going off in Dean head, screaming he knows he knows he knows Dean wants him to... what? Dean doesn't even know. Cas is asking as if for himself, for Dean's benefit, and Dean. God. Dean loves him, doesn't he? He's always loved him, but he loves him like... like... but he doesn't think it, still. He feels too open, now, and he wants to lock himself in his room and sleep it off and drink and stop feeling so vulnerable, he thinks he must be an open book to everyone, to Cas especially, and god, could people always tell? Can Cas tell, now? But why does it matter? Cas told him- he told him-

But none of it matters, because Cas is here, and he's offereing Dean an easy way out, and Dean is a weak, weak man, and he's exhausted and all he wants is to breathe Cas' air and know he's here, and not going anywhere.

So Dean puts on an old T-shirt and gets out of his jeans like he always does before realizing Cas is here. He flushes all over, sits down on his bed because he didn't think about how this was gonna go. Cas glances at the desk as if he was gonna sit in his chair the whole night, and Dean doesn't actually know if Cas sleeps now or doesn't, which he maybe should've thought of before, but before he can say anything, Cas says, "Dean, I don't want to make you uncomfortable" and Dean, completely lost, says the first thing that comes to his mind, which is, "can you lie down with me?" which is not exactly how he was gonna tell Cas he's the opposite of uncomfortable with him, but it does the trick. He makes Cas get out of his dress pants and gives him a T-shirt to sleep in, too, and flushes even more when he realizes what Cas is wearing. Dean lies down when Cas steps towards the bed, faces the wall because he doesn't know what to do with himself. They lie in silence for an awkward moment before Cas says, "are we okay?" and Dean says, "of course we are" and Dean knows Cas is still overthinking it, and he is, too, but... Cas took the leap, and he must feel so uncertain about them, and Dean thinks he owes him something, at least. Cas told him he loved him. Nothing felt right since then, because Cas died and because Cas thought he could never have what he wanted and because Cas thought he wasn't the most important person in Dean's life with Sammy, whatever that meant, and because Dean had to come to terms with that reality, a reality where Cas loves him, has loved him, him, Dean, broken and all. A man. A man Cas thought beautiful, and loving, and- and Dean has many issues, but Cas was never one of them, and Cas deserves to feel certain about his place in Dean's life.

So Dean asks Cas to come closer, and there's a still moment before Cas does, still too far away from Dean, and Dean can't see him, can't make himself turn because his heart is beating so loud he thinks if he looks at Cas, it's gonna beat out of his chest. So he reaches behind himself, finds Cas' hand and brings it forward, keeps it between his hands and brings them to his face. Breathes Cas in. "Please don't leave again" he says, in that tone he used when he prayed to Cas. He feels Cas shift, finally, as if he lost some of the tension from his body, feels the bed dip behind him, and he doesn't know how Cas moves but then Dean's back is pressed against Cas' front, and despite his beating heart, Dean is feeling the exhaustion start to take him. "Cas, I..." he tries, but he can't think anymore, can't make sense of anything.

"You can fall asleep, Dean," Cas says, his words warm in Dean's hair and the last thing he hears before sleep takes him is "I will be here when you wake up."

So when Dean wakes up, it's to a heavy arm around his chest and slow breaths against the back of his head. There's no moment of confusion about who he's with, or why. He doesn't even get a second to consider if it was real before Cas says "good morning, Dean" and Dean wonders if Cas slept at all. If he needs to sleep, now. There's so much they need to talk about, all three of them.

"Cas," he tries again, remembereing his attempt from last night. He needs Cas to know, for sure. "Cas, I - what you said. You know I. I've never..." and Cas is like "I know, Dean" but he sounds a little confused, so Dean doensn't know what Cas thinks he knows. So he turns, takes a second to notice how close they are now, and he thinks about Cas' eyes, his lips. Thinks, soon.

"You have to know," he says, as if Cas didn't say anything. "You have to know how I - what I" and he can't get the words out, not sure if it would be easier if there were no words to get out or if there were no voices in his head screaming over them. So he breathes in, Cas' scent overtaking his senses, brings his palm to Cas' face. Closes his eyes. Thinks, soon. Thinks, now, and meets Cas halfway.

[covenofagatha]

i... wow. sorry if this is too vulgar; i was at the gym when you posted, and like you've psychologically conditioned me, my underwear became.. awfully sticky.. and remained that way the whole day (which i would send a picture if i fear it'd be too far) because i decided to save the read for when i reached home. I'm grateful i did, because despite being shorter than the rest of your works, it was, as always, a masterpiece :)

i hope your exam went well (not sure what timezone you're in, but here friday is basically over... so you've completed it in my book) and as a little prize, here's another tiny brainworm loosely inspired by my experience with your notification today:

desperate! perv! agatha who gets off to your voice, ft. masturbation, pillow humping and fucking, sheet (?) sniffing, daddy kink, praise, voyeurism and dubcon depending on what you want i guess

maybe you're unaware of how your voice affects agatha, innocently obeying when she asks you to "do as many pushups as you can, saying my name each time, baby", and because you love your girlfriend, you'll heed her and her little quirks. you just presume she wants to properly know how many pushups you can do, since it's easy for you to cheat by just saying numbers, right?

or, maybe you're a little more aware then you let on. maybe you exaggerate your noises a little, grunting "agatha" in the husky tone you know she adores, voice gradually dwindling into a whimper of her name.

hopefully unbeknownst to you, agatha is imagining your voice calling "daddy" over and over. you haven't discussed it yet, and she's too embarrassed to bring it up, because what if it's too much for you? the sheets are still gently stained with your juices from your shenanigans with her from last night, and she was supposed to change them (and, well she technically was) -- but she saw the darkened part of the sheets and got all riled up again.

agatha groans as she hears you, and hastily fumbles for the mute button, not wanting you to hear her (maybe she instead presses the video button, and you see flashes of her rigid cock, her head thrown back, and you cant help but buck your hips each time you lower yourself to the ground).

"baby, darling, you've ruined me," agatha mumbles, moving to position a pillow between her legs because she doesn't want to touch herself, rather have your hands, your mouth, your cunt. fuck, she's starting to drip precum just thinking about you.

pushing her nose against the stain you left on the sheet, she inhales sharply, desperately, taking in the lingering scent of you as she humps the pillow like a dog in heat.

it's not enough, she realises, and she tugs the sheet up, inadvertently giving her the brilliant idea as your pillow falls; if she folds it in half, it forms a nice gap that envelopes her throbbing dick nicely, and she can't bother to think about the logistics of it when she's hearing your voice on the other end, already done with pushups, just rambling on about your day like you don't know what you do to her.

she brings the soiled sheet up to sniff, groaning as she jolts into the pillow, babbling "daddy's good little girl" and "my favourite cocksleeve" and "please, baby, you're so good for daddy". (if you can hear her, perhaps you pause your talking just to question what she's doing, but she's too far gone into her pleasure to even notice).

"daddy needs you so bad, pretty girl, ngh-" and she pulls out of the (now sticky) pillow to cum all over the sheets, and the idea that your leftover juices on the fabric are now covered in *her* cum sends another load out of her, splattering audibly as she bucks her hips into nothing.

(if she's muted the whole time, she delights darkly in the fact that you don't know a thing, her naive little pet. but perhaps she realises only after, that her mic and camera is on, when you pipe up with a "enjoy yourself, daddy?" and she grows humiliatingly hard all over again.)

I'll stop here because my head is pounding lol, but i hope you like it (and i hope the start doesn't make you uncomfortable). thank you for gracing us with your incredible writing miss covenofagatha, looking forward to your next piece, whatever it is 😉

sorry i keep bothering you in your asks, let me know if you want me to stop! also, please don't feel obligated to write this in full as a request or anything, it truly is just a wriggly brainworm thought I have that i thought you might like 💜

-lots of love, worm anon

Every time you send an ask it has me on the fucking floor jesus christ how do you keep coming up with hotter ideas

I don't even know how I would be able to write more about this because every single word is so perfect and so detailed and fuck so hot oh my god

[hellsslibrary]

Mean! Rin bullying reader for their bad performance + pet play, reader has a collar on

You are absolutely disgusting. And people like you deserve absolutely nothing. At least until men start getting pregnant (quotes from God knows where day 2).

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : This was FUCKING awesome to write. What can I say... I love my bottoms cunty, you know.

!!Warnings: sub!gn!reader(because 'their'), reader's genitals and gender not specified so you can be anyone, dom!Rin (obvi), pet play, sex toys, blowjob, hair pulling, leash, kind of dacryphilia in your direction idk, humiliation from Rin, orgasm denial about eight unspoken times, foot humping......

"No. Don't you dare."

How many fucking times have you heard that come out of his mouth? How many times have you whined against his thigh when he stopped pressing his foot into where you needed it most? It was getting fucking unbearable every time he did it.

"R-rin... But it wasn't that bad, was it?" you ask with a slightly shaky voice and he just chuckles and grabs your hair, pushing his cock back down your throat, making you gag but obediently start swallowing it.

"It wasn't bad. It was horrible. And you need to learn your lesson about not doing that," Rin breathes out, looking at your pathetic face sucking on his cock and slightly tightens the leash on your neck, making you look up at him.

"Keep going, slut, maybe it'll get your brain back in place and make the rest of the grey matter work."

What the hell is he talking about? This is more likely to make you explode. Not only did he not let you cum, he didn't do it himself. And considering you've been sitting here for clearly more than half an hour, he clearly wants something from you, but what the hell? Besides the pleasure of you choking on tears and his cock, of course.

You carefully grab his hips, and when he doesn't show a negative reaction, you squeeze them, taking his cock all the way into your throat, trying to do it rhythmically, but it was obviously bad. Just disgusting. But you were enthusiastic, so it's forgivable, I guess.

"This isn't even half-baked. What the hell are you doing? Your melted brain doesn't even remember how to suck a dick?" Rin asks, pulling your leash incredibly hard, making you freeze with his cock in your throat, trying your best to breathe through your nose.

And then he pushes you away, making you gasp and look at him with half-open eyes, afraid of what else he might do, but he just raises his eyebrow and sits more comfortably on the edge of the bed.

You look at him confused, but then you look down at your underwear and well... You're just soaking wet. Not surprisingly, but still. Your cheeks flush and you whine as his foot presses there again, running up and down your crotch.

Your lips wrap around his cock again, causing him to gasp and grip the hair on your head. Your tongue slides along the length of it, tasting the salty pre-cum on its receptors. Your cheeks sink almost instinctively, adding to the stimulation, causing your own hips to move faster.

"Keep going. Make me come and I beg you," Itoshi whispers, seeming to take pity on you when he sees how disheveled you are. You sit back on your knees, sighing as his leg settles flat beneath you, allowing you to move as you please, rubbing your arousal against him.

Your hand reaches for his balls, twisting them between your fingers, eliciting a soft moan from Rin's lips. His hips buck, wanting to bury themselves even deeper into your mouth, and his back falls back onto the bed as he feels himself cumming in your mouth...

And you slowly pull away from his cock, realizing that you've been robbed of your orgasm. Again. You swallow some of his cum and spit the rest out, wiping your palm with a napkin and hovering over Rin.

"Are you okay?" you ask, running your hand down his cheek, and he slowly opens his eyes, looking at you and nodding after a few seconds, becoming aware of the world around him again.

"Yeah... Let's go shower," Rin replies, taking your collar off, letting it fall onto the bed with a loud thud, and then pushing you back and standing on the floor, looking at your disappointed face. "I'll finish you there, stop sulking."

Your eyes immediately brightened and you followed Rin, who was stroking his still slightly twitching thighs.

"You're acting like a dog," he whispers and rolls his eyes with a small smirk when he hears the fake and very exaggerated barking from you.

If I ever write a fanfic without something stupid, it won't be me, honestly.

[laswells-ashtray]

Soo uhm... autistic ghost if you do that? I mean that man is autism creature. And I love him. And need him being a silly little autistic guy. Like headcannons, and how it'd be in his relationships with people. Like romantic sexual or platonic? Please and thank you.

Ghost doesn't think he shows many symptoms of having autism because he's commonly told "I'd never have guessed", however, that's typically because the people telling him that haven't spent enough time with him to pick up on anything.

Eventually, the people he's closest to notice things but they never bring it up. Notable but not worth making him self-conscious about. That's what John calls it.

Simon doesn't like the texture of some of his clothes, he'll brush up against John and then automatically reach away to wipe his hand on his own t-shirt or his cargos. John stops wearing certain shirts around him, and sticks to the softer, worn fabrics that Simon doesn't mind touching when it's reasonable for him to do so.

He notices that his lieutenant stocks up on certain foods that he likes, always the same ones before they spontaneously switch up after almost a year and he doesn't tend to go back to them. He tries to keep whatever snack or drink it is in his office so that on the days that Simon wants to crawl out of his skin, he can offer the other man something and maybe somewhere quiet to sit in away from everyone else.

Gaz thinks for a while that maybe Ghost just doesn't like him, but that's alright, they're coworkers and they don't have to be friends. He doesn't seem to like Soap either. That's until he picks up on something, Soap and he can get loud after missions. The adrenaline is still pulsing through their system and they joke around, getting rowdy like two lads in the back of a classroom. Ghost tends to stay quiet, only speaking if spoken to and even then it's a faint mutter. He gets twitchy the louder Gaz and Soap get, his breathing becomes consciously slow and his eyes narrow until he's glaring daggers into whatever is opposite him.

Then it clicks, the man is overstimulated. Overstimulated and unwilling to say so despite his own blatant discomfort. And all it takes is keeping quiet after missions, the conversations between him and Soap become soft whispers and the stabbing tension in Ghost's shoulders lessens noticeably. It's after that, that Ghost starts talking to him more, friendlier and willing to joke around. Gaz knows they aren't exactly the closest of friends, Simon Riley is a puzzle he doesn't have the decades of solving like Price does but it's something and that's good enough.

John and Nikolai have to adapt certain aspects of their relationship when it opens up to include Simon, something that both of them are more than willing to do to ensure the comfort of everyone involved.

Simon is open to touch in varying ways. If he's the one to initiate contact then he could end up sandwiched between the captain and the pilot without complaint. He'll grumble and bat at them half-heartedly, all for show but all it takes is Nikolai kissing his cheek and John nuzzling his jaw to shut him up.

Some days a simple hand on his shoulder is too much, Simon will tense up and he won't say a word about it but they can hear how his breath hitches. Those days they won't touch him, if they sit down together on the couch tne he'll sit down on the tattered, ancient swivel chair by the window. Sometimes he'll brave sticking his legs out and poking John's thighs with his toes, other times he won't. It's up to him and they see no reason to push.

It can be a mix other days, a kiss on the cheek might be fine but when Nikolai plasters himself over Simon's back it's just too much at once. He'll retreat tactically and brush a thumb over his cheek instead.

Sex is different than they're used to but it's a welcome change. There's no more lying around and falling asleep disgusting, leaving it a mess to be dealt with the next day. They become adept at clean-up, and Simon prefers to shower after they're done. Sometimes he'll drag one of them in alongside him, other days he needs the moment alone. Make no mistake, Simon is usually the filthiest out of the three of them. he does things with this tongue that have left John's ears ringing and he can haul Nikolai around without thinking twice. But he needs time to decompress and he'll take it as a moment in the shower or a post-shower cigarette.

[casscainmainly]

can you dive more into bruce’s dislike of cass’ femininity?

Sure!! To preface this, gender and Cass is a really nuanced topic that has a lot of interpretations, all equally valid. This is just my own interpretation, and is mainly situated in early Batgirl (2000). I also recommend reading my gender and sexuality posts for Cass' persepctive on her relationship with gender. But since I've gotten a couple questions about it, I'll cover specifically Bruce's evolving opinions on Cass' gender here.

Beginning

From Batgirl #1, Puckett establishes Bruce's view of Cass: she is like him. Both Barbara and Bruce (and Cass herself) acknowledge this, and it allows Bruce to understand Cass in a way Babs doesn't. This isn't gendered yet, but the seed (that Horrocks will pull on) is there - Bruce closely associates Cass with himself, meaning he focuses on the ways they're similar and ignores the ways they're different.

This similarity is comforting not just for Bruce, but for Cass as well. They are equals - they have similar fighting abilities, philosophies against killing, ways of expressing themselves, etc. She doesn't have to hold back, not with him. Both of them wanted her to be 'like him'.

Bruce does not want Cass being taken "away from [him]". "You want me to think she's like you," he tells David Cain in #5. His biggest fear is Cass being like someone else, and not like him.

The Threat of Stephanie Brown

This recurring motto - 'you're not like them, you're like me' - crops up again when Bruce talks about Stephanie in #38. I've discussed how this makes Cass think she lacks something in femininity, but for Bruce this is him drawing a line between Steph and Cass. Steph is a 'girl', treated like one by Bruce: incompetent, not to be taken seriously, belittled. But because Cass is 'like Bruce,' she can "never" be like Stephanie. Cass being like Stephanie challenges not only Bruce's views of both women, but also his own highly cherished belief that him and Cass are the same.

Steph's feminine presence threatens Bruce and Cass' relationship, kicking off a series of issues where Bruce desperately tries to suppress Cass' gender and sexuality.

Vacation

When Cass encounters Tai'Darshan (a boy love interest) and lets him go, Bruce agrees to send Babs and Cass on a vacation. His motivations are extremely murky: Babs implies it was a set-up to get Cass into action again (justified by a panel of Bruce evilly smirking), but a panel right after has Bruce looking sad:

From #40: "You don't really give a damn about Cassandra, do you?" The juxtaposition between these two panels - one with Bruce (sans mask) smirking, and the other with Batman brooding - suggests he does care about Cass, but he struggles with how. For the first time he's realising that Cass isn't like him, that she's a girl with all that girlhood entails, and it frightens him. The cowl (Batgirl) allows him to ignore what's underneath, but Cass is coming through more and more.

But when Babs mentions Kon, the struggle goes out the window.

Thi anger is funny in a girldad way, but it goes to show how much he cannot stand the thought of Cass exploring her sexuality. It's not just that he doesn't want his little girl to date - it's that somehow, Cass embodying her girlhood will separate her from him forever.

Loss

Babs explicitly points out Bruce's feelings in #42. Though she couches it in non-gendered terms ("school, a job"), it's no coincidence that it's specifically a gendered thing - "falling in love" (with a boy, Kon and/or Tai) - that Bruce is reacting to. So far Bruce has threatened Cass away from Stephanie (her first female friend), Tai/Kon (love interests), and has repeatedly expressed dissatisfaction in Babs (Cass' mother figure). He tries to limit any relationships that allow Cass either feminine solidarity or expressions of her femininity.

Bruce sees girl!Cass as fundamentally opposed to Batgirl!Cass. Batgirl is like him - Cass is not. She's "distracted. Unfocused. Unreliable..." That last adjective is super interesting, because it frames Cass' explorations of gender as an insult against him. Cass becoming more girl-like is making her "unreliable" to Bruce, making her harder to trust.

"If you've got better things to do than being Batgirl, Cass, just say so." This can be read as an ultimatum, but also as a genuine question. He's asking if she wants to be like him (Batgirl), or go her own way (Cass). When she picks Batgirl, he tells her "no more trips to Kansas." To be like him, she must give up her explorations of gender/sexuality.

Firing

In the aftermath of a trip to Tai's hometown (during which he dies), Cass grows increasingly distant to Bruce.

Bruce finally realises that Cass is not like him - that her differences, most vitally expressed in her girlhood, means she needs something different from him. "She no longer tells us what she's doing..." Bruce still associates Cass exploring her gender as disloyalty to him and his symbol, but this time he acknowledges that maybe that disloyalty is a good thing.

Then we have maybe the most interesting part:

Bruce's "I wouldn't know" is a response to Babs' second dialogue, but it's interesting to read his words as also a response to the first. Because Bruce wouldn't know what it's like to give into hormones, to "have sex, take wild risks, misbehave". Of course he's had sex, but his life is so consumed by his mission that Bruce has limited opportunities to explore his gender. In a way, Bruce's repression of Cass' femininity reflects his repression of his own gender exploration.

The Fight

In #50, Cass and Bruce get into a fight, during which Babs questions whether Cass is trying to "kill" or "kiss" Bruce. In the broader context of their gender struggles, this fight is the culmination of Cass and Bruce figuring out their gender expressions and sexualities. I'm reading this not as a romantic kiss, but as a symbol of sexual release - of defying sexual and gendered repression.

Bruce finally explicitly asks Cass who's she loyal to, and Cass points to the Bat. For Bruce, this choice symbolises that Cass is still loyal to Batgirl/Batman, but also her own person; he finally understands how Cass is like him, but also unlike him, and that her (gender) difference doesn't make her any less able to wear the symbol.

This fight is often analysed from Cass' perspective, but it was clearly important to Bruce, too. It was the turning point in his treatment and understanding of Cass - after this point, their relationship never hits the same lows again, and Bruce starts treating her like her own person (cultiminating in the Batgirl (2008) adoption). In Gabrych's run, Bruce leaves Cass alone and doesn't stop her from searching for Shiva, a huge difference from the way he previously handled her feminine relationships and soul-searching.

Ending

So I guess to say Bruce hated Cass' femininity (which I wrote in a previous post) is an oversimplification; it's not purely misogyny (though that was a part of it), but his longing for her to be exactly like him that caused him to try to repress her gender/sexuality. Her femininity was a marker of difference, a sign she was not completely subsumed in him and his symbol. However, Horrocks' run also shows how Bruce changes and grows, learning to accept Cass as his wonderful daughter.

I hope that answers your question!!

[korikokorin]

My brain has been rotting over this idea that Damian Wayne would fall in love with a paramedic.

He loves how strong and brave and kind you are. You'd come home after work and you two would sit together, he'd lean into your side with his head on your shoulder and arms wrapped around you, playing with your fingers. He'd listen while you talked about your day and all the calls you worked on, and then after he would pull you into bed and kiss you right over your heart and remind you how much good you do.

On the really bad days? The ones where you would come home numb with a hollow look in your eyes. He'd walk up to you as you closed the door behind you and pull you in. He'd let you break down in his arms and press your ear to his heart; let you listen to his heartbeat. Days like this remind you just how fragile people's lives are, and how cruel the world can be.

What I really think about though, is how the rest of the family would find out:

I don't think Damian would hide the fact that he's a vigilante from you, mainly because he feels this kinship with you and the similar reasons you both do what you do.

One day They would all come back from patrol battered and bruised (too much work for alfred to do on his own) and Damian just casually picks up his phone to call you.

You get there, make it down to the cave (because of course he would tell you how to get into the cave) give him a kiss on the lips and then start patching him up while Alfred is giving bruce some stitches.

Let's just say his brothers would not stop pestering him after that.

[paulyenvol6]

Bruised, Not Broken

Based on this lovely request! Thank you so much for the idea and I hope you like it :)

Daemon and you have an ugly fight which leads to him leaving the red keep and you having a panic attack.

Contains: angst, anxiety, mentions of a miscarriage, very slight smut, mentions of physical pain, hotd typical themes like death and fighting, comfort

Wordcount: ~4.43k

Masterlist

The sun was about to touch the horizon when you looked out of the window and it looked so pretty that for a moment you forgot about your upset state of mind.

"Darling, can we please talk about this another time?" Daemon's voice brought you back to the moment and you rapidly turned your head to your husband remembering what he had just said.

"No, we can't. I can't believe you didn't even talk to me before agreeing."

Daemon shook his head like he was speaking to a child that couldn't comprehend the easiest connections and you felt the blood rushing in your ears.

"I'm pregnant, Daemon. I want you by my side when I deliver our child and I most certainly don't want our child to grow up without its father."

You walked towards him putting every emotion you felt in your eyes but his nostrils flared dangerously.

"So you think I would get killed off just like that by some idiot follower of the crabfeeder? My wife thinks I can't fight properly?"

You exhaled deeply and grabbed his upper arm.

"Of course I do. But don't you get the point? It is dangerous and you can't deny that. And as I said, what if you're not with me when I give birth?"

Daemon briefly looked down to the well-visible swell of your belly but then glared at you again.

"I will be back in time," was all he pressed but now your eyes filled with tears.

"You don't know that," you whispered your hands gripping the fabric of his tunic.

"I do, y/n, seven hells. The maesters say you're gonna deliver in two moons. That's plenty of time for me to put this crabfeeder in his place."

"But what if not? And what if the child comes too early?"

You searched for his eyes but this time Daemon avoided your gaze and instead looked to the side.

"This is our first child together, Daemon and I – I'm scared. You know that. I want you with me when it happens."

Now it was him who exhaled loudly and his lips curled in anger. "I will be with you. I promise you that."

"You can't promise me that."

Daemon scoffed and turned away from you all of the sudden.

"Then tell me what kind of marriage this is if my wife does not trust me? Mhm? If my wife thinks that I won't make it at the stepstones and thinks I'm too weak. And if my wife tells me what to do."

He pointed at you with small eyes but you wouldn't let him intimidate you. You pressed your lips together and made a step towards him.

"I fucking wish I could tell you what to do, Daemon Targaryen."

He threw his head back laughing loudly and aimlessly walked around the room.

"You do it all the time, y/n. You do it from the moment I wake up. The last thing I hear before falling asleep is you telling me what clothes to wear in the morning."

Your heartbeat fastened and you clenched your fists trying to fight the urge to scratch or squeeze something.

"How dare you. I want the best for this family and all I do is try to make sure that you're fine and that my child has a good life."

"Oh wait. So you're telling me what to wear because… You want the best for our child?"

You grinded your teeth. "This happened once," you hissed quietly but loud enough so you were sure he would hear you. "And it was because your brother wanted you to behave and present yourself nicely because he had guests."

"Yes. Exactly. So it is not enough to control my life but you're also conspiring with my brother because wild and messy Daemon needs to be controlled and can't be left alone because he might do something stupid. I'm not a fucking child and I don't need your or my brother to act like you're my parents."

You panted heavily and placed your head on your forehead.

"You really don't get it, do you?"

He closed his eyes and laughed uncontrolled. "Do you know that you always do this? You throw all these things at my head and when I don't agree with you you tell me that I'm just too stupid to understand you."

"That's enough, Daemon," you shouted and pushed yourself away from the table you had leaned against. "You don't listen to me, that's why. As soon as I critises something about you you always get into this defensive attitude instead of just listening. I'm not saying these things because I want to upset you."

"Mhm yes, you're just so caring and kind and it's me who brings in all the trouble. Why did you marry me then, huh? Have you only just now noticed that I'm not gonna spend my life chained to our chambers in king's landing while my men are fighting for our comfortable lives at the stepstones? Did you think I'd change my entire personality once we're married and I fucked your cunt once?"

"Shut up, Daemon. I mean it," you hissed close to tears.

"It's good, yes. Fucking you, I mean. But it's not that good."

"OUT. GET OUT RIGHT NOW!" you screamed and pushed against his chest.

For a brief moment he stood still ignoring your attempts of pushing him away and not moving an inch but soon he flared his nostrils one last time and then turned around to leave your chambers.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daemon stomped rather than walked through the streets of king's landing and he was almost certain that there was actual smoke leaking out of his nose. His whole body was on fire and he knew that only two things could calm him now.

The first one was very difficult to do because he didn't know where to find a person that would willingly let him beat him up so Daemon now headed to his favourite brothel that was located on the street of silk. He rarely went there anymore now that he was married and had found a partner that enjoyed sex just as much as he did but tonight he found that he didn't have a choice but to return to this place that had once been his favourite place to be. You wouldn't open your legs for him tonight so someone else had to. There was no way Daemon would be able to sleep or eat or do anything in this state of mind so he had to calm himself.

He saw the familiar wooden sign from the far and contently sighed. There was this signiture smell of this part of the city and when he had been a young boy and Viserys had taken him to a brothel for the first time he had found it to be disgusting and obscene. Today he was in some way used to it. Oddly enough it smelled like a woman's cunt and as filthy as it felt, the scent now excited him.

Daemon entered the brothel and immediately noticed all the women lolling lasciviously on the couches. In the dim light the owner of the brothel, a short man that everyone only called One-Eyes Rog because he had lost his left eye in a fight in an inn a few years ago, didn't notice him at first but when his eyes fell on his silver hair he immediately bowed his head.

"My prince. What an honour it is to welcome you here."

It was obvious that One-Eyed Rog had suspected to have lost his loyal guest to you after his marriage which was why he was so surprised by his unexpected visit.

"What can I do for you, my prince? I just got a handful of new girls from the north. One of them, Ysa is her name, is the loveliest redhead you'll ever see. So young and soft, you'll feel like you're touching a maiden."

He laughed loudly which sounded more like a horse snorting and held his stomach as if he couldn't keep himself up. Perhaps he actually couldn't. Daemon didn't feel like spending so much time in One-Eyed Rog's presence so he rolled his eyes while walking past the man.

"Bring her up to my room. I expect I still have my own room," he whispered quietly and it sounded a lot more threatening that he had intended to.

"Of course, of course, my prince," the owner of the brothel assured him while bowing again. "Please, let me know if there is anything you require. Anything you want, we will bring it to you."

Daemon almost didn't hear his words because he was already making his way up the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~

You panted heavily and placed your hand on your chest.

You just couldn't help it, his words had hurt you like little knives that he had driven right into your heart. And now you couldn't reach inside to pull them out so all you could do was wait and stare at the door.

You didn't even know whether you wanted Daemon to return. After all it had been you who threw him out but still you wanted him to tell you how sorry he was and that everything had been a big mistake.

'Fuck,' you thought and squeezed your eyes. Everything spinned around you and you quickly gripped the table to your right so you wouldn't fall to the ground. What if you would never reconcile? What if Daemon just left to fight at the stepstones and wouldn't come back? What if you would never see him again? What if your child would grow up without its father and what if you would have to raise it on your own?

The sob came unexpected but since you were alone in your room you didn't fight the waves of tears washing over you. You allowed yourself around ten minutes of self-pity during which you imagined the worst things that could happen but after there were no tears left to cry you raised your head again and inhaled a few times.

Your surrounding were still spinning so you blinked a few times until you felt brave enough to take a step forward. The stumbling that followed wasn't caused by your dizziness but rather by how powerless you felt and suddenly you remembered that it had been hours since you had eaten something. And that was although your doctors had told you to eat enough.

Fresh tears formed in your eyes because how was it that you didn't manage to care for your babe before it was even born? You sat down on a chair and stared at the bowl of fruit in front of you. You had to eat something, that much was clear but you didn't crave anything. For some reason the sight of the apple made your stomach turn and you were aware that you would have to force yourself.

Your trembling hand reached out for the bowl thinking that a peach was the least unbearable food to eat right now so you grabbed it and examined it closely. Despite feeling the rejection from your belly you moved it to your lips and took a careful bite.

It wasn't like it tasted bad. It was a peach after all. And still you almost wanted to throw up and immediately put the fruit down. Your face was drawn with disgust and despite everything the maesters had told you, you would have to ignore their advice tonight. You just couldn't eat anything.

Feeling very helpless and pathetic suddenly you placed your arms on the table and rested your head on top of them. You didn't know how long you were laying there like this. Strangely, you suddenly felt numb and so tired that you couldn't even feel anger towards Daemon, so you just waited and wished you could go to sleep and wake up to find everything as it was before your ugly fight.

But of course none of the gods granted you this wish and instead you were soon disrupted by an awful pain in your core. It started as a light pull but soon you had to straighten up because you thought the position might be the problem. But it only became worse and you anxiously touched your belly.

'What is going on?' you thought and gasped for air when a sharp and intense ache spread throughout your body. It was way too early for you to give birth, that was clear, but what was this? You were more than familiar with the usual and normal difficulties during pregnancy, like morning sickness or your aching back but you had never felt something like this.

'Daemon,' was the first thing that shot into your head but in the very same second you remembered what had happened between the two of you and you wished you could slap yourself. Or Daemon.

Gods, why did this happen right now? You needed him now and you had no idea where he was. You tried to stand up because either way, you needed a maester to look after you and the babe but your knees were so wobbly that you instantly fell down on the chair again which caused another wave of pain. Shouting, it was then.

"Ser Tomas," you said loudly on the verge of crying and after repeating your words two more times the door sprang open and the knight rushed into the room.

"Princess. What is it?"

You held your heart trying to fight the panic that was slowly but surely creeping up on you.

"I-I… Something's wrong. Please get the maester," you whined and you felt your toes curl at the pain. What was happening? This couldn't be true, no. You didn't even want to form the thought in your head but what if – What if you were losing the child.

Suddenly, and you didn't even know when it had started, tears were rolling down your face and combined with your dizziness you feared that you might faint. Ser Tomas had answered you but you hadn't been able to understand him so all you could do was wait while the knight left the room as quickly as he had entered it and you just hoped that he went to get someone.

Daemon. You needed him so badly. You needed him to hold your hand and stroke your hair and tell you that everything would be fine. You needed him to rub over your belly and hear his voice close to your ear. Your eyes sprang open at another sting and you watched your stomach as if you could see if something was wrong that way.

And then, you didn't know how much time had passed the door opened again and Maester Fynnes rushed in as swiftly as his old body allowed him to.

"Princess," he shouted and although he was not the person you wished to see it gave you comfort to have somebody at your side.

"I-I don't know what's wrong," you managed to press. "It hurts, it hurts so bad. W-What i-if I… I don't wanna lose it."

Once again the veil of tears didn't allow you to make out your surroundings but this was your smallest problem right now.

"Breathe, princess. Breathe. That's the most important thing."

You tried to follow his advice and inhaled deeply but it didn't help you at all. It rather increased your panic because you feared you would suffocate as the lack of air entering your body made your head turn.

"I-I don't know what to do," you sobbed hands gripping the chair you were sitting on. The maester had sat down next to you and watched you concerned.

"It's too early for the child to arrive."

"I'm losing it," you cried panting hectically. "I-I think I'm losing the child."

"No, my princess. You need to calm down, it might just be – "

"NO," you interrupted him and threw your head back. "Fuckkkk…. I need Daemon. Please. Get him here. Now."

Maester Fynnes almost jumped to his feet and ran to the door. The next few minutes passed without you comprehending what was happening around you but you were too focused on the pain and trying to breathe to listen to the maester. Only when he was next to you again did you hear him.

"They will search for Daemon. I'm sure he will be back soon."

"Where is he?" you whispered and grabbed the maester's hand. "Where is he, why is he not here with me?"

Fynnes actually looked pitiful when your eyes had found his and soothingly ran his thumb over the back of your hand.

"I don't know, princess. But they will find him."

"I need him now. I need him, fuck… He's the only one – Please, find him. What if he has left? Is Caraxes still here, has he left on his back – "

"Shhh," Fynnes made. "This is not helping. It would be better for you to try and relax."

But how were you supposed to do that? Your thoughts were spinning, your heart was beating so fast that it was almost uncomfortable and your whole body was aching.

"I will bring you milk of the poppy, princess. It might help you sleep."

It took you a moment to comprehend his words but once you did you were shaking your head rapidly.

"No, no, no. I need to help the child. I can't sleep, I have to save it."

Maester Fynnes rose to his feet while patting your shoulder.

"The child will be fine. There is nothing you have to do beside calming yourself."

When the maester returned with a cup your head was still shaking. It was still shaking when he offered you the cup. But then at some point you were simply too tired to refuse and you were actually quite thirsty.

So even before your lips touched the cup your brain already felt cloudy and the liquid evenutally did the rest.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daemon licked over his lip and tasted sweat. He had his eyes closed and his head thrown back in pleasure but somehow he still wasn't in the present moment. His thoughts wandered to you over and over again no matter how deep he fucked Ysa or how tight she clenched around him.

"Oh fuck," she moaned and Daemon registered how her hands gripped the bed sheets but his body felt disconnected to his mind. He felt the pleasure he was receiving but it didn't reach his brain.

And yet he went on to chase his release, gripped her hips and reached around her body to cup her breasts but just as felt himself getting closer to the edge the door opened and Daemon exhaled in dissatisfaction.

He stopped fucking Ysa but stayed inside of her while turning his head to see who had disrupted them. Noticing that it was a knight from the red keep, he frowned.

"My prince. There is an urgent matter. You have to come back to the red keep, your wife has requested your presence!"

At first Daemon hesitated but he knew you so well. And he knew how proud you were. Never would you swallow your pride and ask for him if it wasn't a serious matter. That was why Daemon quickly pulled out of Ysa without looking at her for another second.

"What happened? Is she alright?" he asked while putting on his clothes. He didn't care whether the man would be able to recognise the concern in his voice; it was about getting a grip of the situation now as fast as possible.

"I don't know, my prince. I was just sent to search for you and I was told to be quick."

Daemon nodded and closed the buttons of his shirt with his slightly shaking fingers. "Let's go then."

The prince rushed through the streets next to the knight whose name he didn't know and the longer they went the more scared Daemon became. He wasn't the kind of person that was scared a lot, because what did he, the rogue prince have to be scared of?

But he knew that this was a different situation. You would never ask for him to come to you during a fight if it wasn't important. He remembered all too well how you didn't speak to him for 4 days last year after Daemon had called your traditional wedding gown "prim". You were stubborn. And you wouldn't send knights searching for him just to yell at him again.

That was why when the two men finally arrived at the keep Daemon felt a bitter feeling in his stomach. He really needed to check on you now and make sure that you were alright because despite all the fighting and disagreements he loved you deeply and would never leave your side.

"Where is she? Is she in my rooms?"

The knight nodded and Daemon noticed how he looked anxious as well which didn't exactly calm him either.

"I-I think so. They told me to bring you to your chambers."

"I will find the way."

With these words the prince started to walk through the corridor and once he was around the corner he started to run. Although he wasn't a particulary religious person suddenly he caught himself praying that you were fine. And then he finally arrived, energetically opened the door to your rooms and his eyes sprang open.

A man with a black scarf over his head stood by your bed, and Daemon could see the tip of a dagger glinting in the moonlight. His brain quickly processed and then he hasted towards him exactly in the same moment as the assassin started to approach your sleeping figure.

That was the moment the man noticed Daemon and shifted his attention to the prince as well.

"Little bastard," Daemon hissed while the man made his way to him and quickly pulled out his sword. By now you had woken up from the noise and shrieked when your mind comprehended what was happening.

"Daemon," you gasped and watched with big eyes how your husband swang his sword at the assassin.

It would be an exaggeration to say that it was a long fight. He was Daemon Targaryen after all and within seconds he had managed to disarm the man and then drew his sword through his throat. Blood sprayed everywhere, the man sank to the floor and then everything was quiet so all Daemon heard was your sobbing.

You had buried your face in your hands and uncontrollably cried and of course your husband had to do something about it now. He swiftly cleaned his sword with the assassin's cloak, dropped the weapon and then made his way towards you.

"Come here, darling," he whispered and lifted you up by your arms to pull you against his chest. "It's alright, I'm here. I'm here, love and you're safe."

His left hand held your back while his right stroked your hair and it felt so surreal and good at the same time that you simply couldn't stop crying.

"D-Daemon," you sobbed and buried your hands in his muscular arms.

"Yes, I know. Everything will be alright now."

"I-I… I," you muttered and looked up to him with teary and round eyes.

"What is it, babygirl? What happened?"

You crouched against his strong body hoping that everything would be easier if only you were as close as physically possible and in this moment you were so grateful for the way his arms wrapped around your back. He just knew you and what you needed right now.

It took you a few more minutes until you felt calm enough to explain to him what happened but even then your voice was trembling.

"It was so… It was terrible, I… A-After you left… I j-just sat there," you started and your husband nodded encouragingly.

"A-And then after s-some time…. I felt a p-pain in my stomach. I-I was so scared, Daemon…"

New tears welled in your eyes and your whole body was shaking while you buried your face in his neck that smelled so much like Daemon. His soft voice cut through the air while his hand repeatedly ran over the back of your head.

"What happened then, love?"

"I panicked. And I-I thought t-that I… That I'm g-gonna lose our child. S-So the maester came and I don't know… I don't remember everything. B-But I asked f-for you b-because I w-was so scared and then… Fynnes g-gave me milk of the p-poppy a-and I slept. Until now."

You finally looked at him again and his eyes looked so soft that you wondered how this was the same person you had fought with a few hours ago.

"Oh darling," he said quietly and pressed a kiss on your forehead. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there. How are you now? Are you still in pain?"

Slowly you shook your head because to your relief the ache had actually vanished.

"No, it's better."

"That's so good to hear, my love."

You quietly let him hold you for a while until you couldn't wait anymore; you just had to share your biggest fear.

"B-But what if I actually l-lost it, Daemon? What if I had a miscarriage in my sleep?"

Your voice sounded so thin and weak that in any other case you would've felt embarrassed but right now you just couldn't think of anything but the babe in your womb.

"No, honey. Do you see any blood on the bed? You would've bled if you'd lost it." He placed a hand on your swollen belly. "Let's see. Perhaps we will hear it."

He rubbed over your skin a few times while kissing your shoulder. For a few minutes you only paid attention to Daemon's steady breathing and the warmth of his hand on your body until you felt something inside of you. It was a kick and you instantly teared up again.

"I-I felt it," you gasped and heard him chuckle softly.

"There you have it. It's alive and it's healthy, sweetling."

You slowly nodded and then lowered your tired head until you leaned against his shoulder.

"That's right, y/n. You can sleep. We will figure out everything tomorrow."

You were too tired to even think about his words. All you knew was that everything would be fine.

It didn't matter how much the two of you fought or if you had different opinions on some matters.

You loved it each other and this love would overshadow anything stepping in your way.