#i just love this show so much and i never get to talk about it

[jellybeanium124]

if you'll allow me to flaunt my psych minor for a second, I'd like to talk about epigenetics. there's studies that show that if you shock a rat when you let them taste a certain flavor, they will immediately become averse to that flavor. not surprising. what is surprising is that the rat's grandchildren, who have never been shocked when given that flavor, will also be averse to it and afraid of it and avoid it. there's also correlational evidence to suggest that the descendants of people who suffered through famine are more likely to put on weight and keep it on easier, even if they have never been through a famine themself.

trauma gets passed down. the kinds of trauma your parents, grandparents, and so-on lived through is still living in you. even if your parents were the most well-off, loving, best parents in the world, their trauma is still in you.

now if you'll allow me to take a slight turn here: there's a wild rabbit inside every jew.

my dad grew up being called "jew-boy." my mother had a coworker throw pennies at her at her job in the 2010s. and that's just two examples. they both grew up being harassed for being jewish. I wasn't. I'm incredibly lucky. the amount of antisemitism I've experienced in real life has been incredibly minimal. I didn't even hear anyone make an antisemitic joke in front of me until college.

and none of us were seriously persecuted. none of my grandparents were seriously persecuted. but even though nobody's broken my windows, nobody's beaten me in the streets, and I haven't been at any of those horrible protests in person, the fear is there. this deep seated, blood-pumping fear of the ancient jewish rabbit in me telling me to run. to run for dear life, to run as far as my legs can get me, as long as my heart keeps pumping and my lungs keep breathing.

we all feel this.

everyone feels this.

I called my mother yesterday. when I brought up this feeling she paused, and the silence said everything. she told me I wasn't alone. she feels it. my dad feels it. my brother feels it. my nana and grampa feel it. every jew you know, online, in real life, hell, even the famous ones, they feel it. the rabbit is inside us all, and the rabbit knows, because its brothers who didn't flee in the past were slaughtered.

the rabbit is leaping around my chest, all of our chests, chanting run run run run run run run.

I don't know if I can explain it to gentiles. I don't know if this makes sense to you. I don't know how to get across how crystal clear and deep and primal this fear is, and how much all of us are feeling the exact same fear, despite our different lives and different histories and the fact we're different people.

part of me wishes it didn't matter. that I didn't feel like I needed to get goyim to understand my specific cultural and ethnic experiences. because I don't feel like I need to deeply understand everyone else's. I am a white passing ashkenazi american jew, and I will never fully understand what it is like to be anything else. that doesn't dissolve my responsibility to educate myself and practice empathy, but it's ok. idk, maybe other people do desperately wish they could get people not in their specific group to deeply understand what it's like to be them. I imagine that feeling is universal. I guess, it's just like, the left is unified that everyone is a person, everyone is equal, everyone is human, except the jews. nobody is left out but the jews. everyone's word is believed, but the jews. and it makes me feel like I have to beg and plead with people to understand what being jewish means, because we're not included with everyone else. we're the enemy. and I want people to see we're not the enemy.

epigenetics.

[boomstab-papa]

This is why feminism is for men, too. Why men are not just "allowed" to be feminists, they NEED to be.

When Rando Joe has been told by patriarchy his whole life that he's entitled to be the center of attention whenever he wants, then he wanders into leftist spaces and someone tells him "hey, don't talk over other people when they're talking, especially about their own experiences", Joe is not likely to believe women telling him "we are not 'silencing you', you just need to chill a bit". His feelings have been hurt! He had something to say!! He's probably not going to listen to that explanation. But he might believe a man explaining that to him.

When Rando Joe sees someone expressing frustration at people who look like him - white, men, able-bodied, what have you - and starts thinking "wait why does everyone hate me for my immutable traits", Joe is not likely to believe women telling him "we do not 'hate you' personally, but also, you have to accept that some people will have a harder time trusting you because of their past experiences with people who look like you and you can't take that personally". His feelings have been hurt! They shouldn't be mean to him like that!! He's probably not going to listen to that explanation. But he might believe a man explaining that to him.

Because misogyny is so prevalent that studies show that generally, men simply do not want to listen to women, be corrected by a woman, or follow a woman's directions. Unless any given man has done a LOT of work to examine this and try to deprogram this attitude, odds are it's going to control a lot of what he thinks, and this work will never "end". That's just how unpacking privilege and bigotry works. https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/2051570719828687 https://www.bbc.co.uk/voices/yourvoice/classroom_talk.shtml https://web.stanford.edu/~eckert/PDF/ZimmermanWest.pdf https://heinonline.org/HOL/LandingPage?handle=hein.journals/valr103&div=39&id=&page= https://www.jstor.org/stable/3346669

Meanwhile studies show that feminists do not "hate men". The idea that they do comes from... wait for it... misogynists. I grew up in a Rush Limbaugh-listening household and wow did that guy love telling us how "feminazis hate men". Another comment on this post linked this very poignant article so thank you genuinemusic for sharing it: https://www.forbes.com/sites/kimelsesser/2023/11/27/feminists-dont-hate-men-according-to-new-research/

So. Maybe the above comment thinks that women and leftists are always telling him "we hate men" because he still hasn't deprogrammed that part of his alt-right pipeline experience yet. Maybe he thinks that women and leftists pointing out his "immutable traits" (man, white, etc.) - and the privilege it affords him - is an attack and an insult. Maybe he thinks that being told "hey you need to chill before you talk over XYZ on XYZ" hurts his feelings and it feels like an attack and an insult. Maybe he's had a different experience I haven't described here. I'm not a mind-reader, I just read a lot.

Yes, leftists cannot be out here hating masculinity or hating men. I'm not going to pretend that I've never seen anyone behaving like this but most people do not do that. Also it can't be on women to lead this charge and never ever hurt men's feelings "or else I'll become a misogynist", as the previous comment says. If you're gonna be unpacking your bigotry, it's going to fucking hurt. But it will be much more than just this discomfort. It's much better for you than getting alt-right brainwashed.

Statistically, we need way more men talking men through this.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[kyksbb]

Boyfriend Headcanons

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Requested

Word Count: 1K

Author's note: Another request, thank you anon! Enjoyyy 🫂🩷

He’s not joking when he says it was love at first sight.

That boy saw you and you knocked the wind out of him. Like, every single cheesy love song suddenly made sense to him. Not that he’s complaining.

“Babe, I saw you, and I was done for.” And he means it. Really means it.

Jude is a serious simp. Like, on another level. No shame though.

He is the sweetest, most thoughtful boyfriend in the world.

He is the type of boyfriend to leave little notes in random places, like in your bag or on the mirror.

“Missed you already” or “You’re my favorite part of the day” in his messy handwriting.

He has your favorite snacks on hand 24/7, tucking them in your bag when you’re not looking. He gets so excited picturing you reaching in later and lighting up.

He’s the biggest tease in the world, not letting a day pass without some good natured ribbing.

Everyone knows he’s extremely competitive. You would think that he would be a gentleman and let you win when you two play games but no. He lost? Oh, he’s pouting until you bribe him with kisses all over his face.

Jude is low-key so overprotective. He keeps you close in a crowd, hand firmly laced with yours.

Also, Jude 100% knows the sidewalk rule. He always makes sure you walk outside of the sidewalk.

He’s the type of boyfriend to show that he cares for you in the smallest ways.

Always peeling the straw for you, sliding the salt over in case you need it during dinner, adjusting your scarf if it’s chilly.

By the way, you only bring your wallet for decoration when you’re out with him. He’s got you covered, period.

He’s the most supportive boyfriend ever. Whatever you’re passionate about, he’s right there. Cheering you on, sending encouraging texts before a big day, asking hundred questions about it.

He’s also the definition of impulsive gift-giver.

You remind him the color of that sweater? He’s already bought it. Found a mug with a cheesy pun you’d love? Done. “Can never have too much,” he says with a smirk.

He’s absolutely obsessed with the bond you have with his family. His parents adore you and he couldn’t be happier about that but, but, truth be told, he finds the fact that you and Jobe are always ganging up on him very annoying.

He’s an actual cuddle monster. Literally. If you’re with him and he doesn’t have his arms wrapped around you, what is he doing?

He swears his arms were “made to hold you,” but he also loves resting his head on your chest, loving when you play with his hair. The little spoon sometimes is his spot.

He says he loves to cook but that is the biggest lie known to a man. He just loves being in the kitchen while you’re cooking. He’ll sing into the spatula, mess with the ingredients, and kiss your neck until you end up doing most of the work.

“Just here for moral support,” he’ll say, grinning while you roll your eyes.

Subtle PDA is his specialty. He doesn’t go overbroad, but he’ll lace his fingers with yours in public, place his hand on your lower back, squeeze your thigh and lean in just close enough to let everyone know you’re his.

Good morning texts, guaranteed. Whether it’s his sleepy face selfie from bed, a quick snap from training, or a random shot of something that reminds him of you, he makes sure you start your day with a smile.

He asks the most random questions at the most random moments. You could be lounging on the couch with him and he’d be like “If animals could talk, which one you reckon would be the rudest?” Or, “Who do you think would win in a dance off, me or my coach?”

You both have tons of inside jokes. Sometimes it takes a one look or a one word and you’re both cracking up uncontrollably.

He is actually obsessed with snapping candid shots of you. Whether you’re laughing with friends, squinting at the menu, or lost in thought, he loves capturing you in your most natural moments.

Jude has this adorable habit of kissing your forehead at the most random times. If you’re talking excitedly about something, he’ll suddenly lean over, press a kiss to your forehead, and say, “I love how passionate you get about this.”

When he does it in public, he’ll pull you close with a slight smirk, like he’s silently telling everyone around just how much he adores you.

He’s memorized exactly how you like your coffee and surprises you with it just the way you like when you’re feeling lazy in the morning.

If you’re still in bed, he’ll bring it to you, placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder to wake you.

Sometimes, he’ll try to make cute designs in the foam but laugh when they look more like blobs.

He’ll randomly offer you a piggyback ride, even if you’re just walking a short distance. He claims it’s because he’s “keeping you safe” but really just loves carrying you around.

If you’ve had a long day, he’ll give you a piggyback ride all the way to bed, tucking you in with a soft kiss on your forehead and a cheeky, “Lucky I’m here, huh?”

When he’s away, he leaves you cute, funny voice notes throughout the day. They range from “Hey, miss you” to “Guess what I saw today?”

Sometimes, he tries to make up a song about you, laughing through it because he’s making up random lyrics that don’t rhyme.

Whenever you have a small problem, like a squeaky door, a broken lamp, or your favorite necklace clasp breaking, Jude takes it as his personal mission to fix it, even if he doesn’t know how.

He’s ridiculously proud when he finally fixes something and says he’s “earning boyfriend points.”

Jude often talks about the future with you in it. He’ll casually say things like, “When we have a place together…” or “Our future kids would be the cutest,” and then he’ll get adorably shy, rubbing the back of his neck, realizing what he just said.

In conclusion, Jude Bellingham is a huge boyfriend material.

[y3sterdaysproblem]

smoke and mirrors - chris sturniolo

chapter one

summary: your best friend Matt backs out of plans you had made together, so you replace him with his brother. the only problem is the two of you can’t stand each other.

{enemies to lovers, fake dating}

includes : explicit language, fluff, smut(penetration, oral, fingering, etc.), angst if you squint, lots of bickering, slow burn

wc: 2.4k

-

a/n: first series! it won’t be super long, but I hope you enjoy. send requests for more fics!

-

“Matt, you can’t back out now!” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare at your best friend where he lays on his bed, setting his phone down to look up at you.

“I’m sorry, love, something came up and I can’t make it,” he apologizes, shrugging his shoulders. “I can’t get out of it.”

You groan, throwing your head back in frustration. You had a family wedding to attend and already RSVP’d with a plus one, which was supposed to be your best friend Matt, who had lovingly agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend for the night. Your family was super invasive about you getting a boyfriend, and you wanted to avoid all of the comments and questions by just pretending to have a boyfriend for one night at the wedding, but your plan was falling apart.

“What am I supposed to do? I already told everyone I was coming with somebody, they’re gonna know I was lying if I show up by myself,” you tell him, trying to rack your brain for any ideas.

“You could bring Nick,” Matt suggests, picking his phone back up and going back to scrolling.

You scoff. “Yeah right, like Nick could pretend to be straight for an entire night. He’d be caught in less than an hour.” You shake your head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to Matt. “I’m gonna have to go on, like, Bumble or something and find some random to go with me.”

Matt looks up at you over his phone, waiting for you to lock eyes with him before he starts to speak. “I mean… I know one other guy you could ask.”

You tilt your head, excited to hear the suggestion, before you realize who he’s talking about and your eyes widen, head shaking rapidly. “Absolutely not,” you put your hands up, pointer fingers crossed over in an X. “I am not asking Chris, no way.”

Matt raises his eyebrows and purses his lips. “I told you I knew someone, I didn’t say you’d like what I said.”

You roll your eyes. “He would never say yes to me anyway, even if I did want to ask him.”

Matt shrugs. “Maybe. You could always bribe him, he loves a good bribe.”

You think about it for another moment, knowing it would be easier to get Chris to do it than it would to find some random guy to go to a wedding as a first date, but the thought of spending an entire night next to Chris made your skin crawl.

The two of you had never really gotten along, even with you being around as much as you were, you guys never clicked, in fact it was the complete opposite, always insulting each other any chance you got, ignoring each other, and always avoiding being in the same room by yourself, even if only for a few moments.

“I mean… I could try but I really can’t promise I won’t kill your brother, Matt,” you half joke, but not really. “Might turn you into a twin.”

“That’s fucked,” Matt laughs, using his foot to kick you lightly. “I‘ll still be a triplet, even if you kill him. I’ll just be a triplet with severe depression and no will no live.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you tell him through a laugh. “Your life would be so much quieter, wouldn’t that be nice? You’d secretly thank me for killing him.”

Matt shakes his head at you with a smile, though his eyes tell you he thinks you’re crazy, before looking back down at his phone.

“Killing who?” A voice sounds from the doorway and you look up to see the man of the hour staring back at you, a disinterested look on his face.

“You,” you smile sweetly up at Chris.

“That’s nice,” he says, flashing you a fake, tight lipped smile before turning to his brother. “Hey, can you take me to go get food?”

Matt groans and throws his head back, closing his eyes. “But I’m so comfortable,” he whines.

You take a deep breath and consider your options. Chris, who you hate but have known for years, or a random guy who might be a serial killer? You’d definitely be safer with Chris, but the thought of having to be near him without his brothers for an entire night seemed like hell. Especially having to act like you were pleased to be in his presence.

“I’ll take you,” you speak before you can stop yourself.

Both Matt and Chris look at you with shocked expressions, Chris having a bit of disgust in his eyes.

“I’d rather starve, thanks,” Chris replies. “Matt, c’mon seriously, can you take me?” He asks again.

“Chris,” you say in a stern voice, standing up from the bed and walking towards him. “Let me take you. I need to talk to you.”

Chris watches you walk past him through the doorway and then looks back at Matt, shooting him a confused look, to which his brother just shrugs, before he leaves to follow you, finding you by the front door slipping your crocs on.

“The fuck is this about?” He asks, trotting down the stairs to meet you by the front door. “You in love with me or some shit?”

You look up at him with an unamused expression. “You wish I was in love with you.” You huff. “I told you, I gotta talk to you.”

You open the front door and head outside towards your car, opening the drivers side door. You look behind you and see Chris standing in the doorway, staring after you. “I’ll buy your food,” you tell him, and he immediately shuts the door behind him and walks up to your car. “You should’ve led with that!” He says.

You both get in your car and you start driving. “Where do you want to go?” You ask him, turning your head to see him on his phone. “Chris,” you push, reaching out to smack his phone out of his hand, causing it to land on the floor.

“What the fuck, dude. Unnecessary.” Chris huffs, reaching down to grab his phone, but he tucked it between his legs instead of going back on it. “I don’t know, McDonald’s?”

You groan. “You always get McDonald’s. Can’t we get like Popeyes or something?”

Chris looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “Well I didn’t know you were gonna eat, too, jesus. Sure, Popeyes is fine.” He goes for his phone again, but you reach out and grab his hand, stopping him.

“Wait,” you start. “I actually do need to talk to you.”

Chris sighs and puts his phone away in his pocket completely, looking over at you. “Okay, spit it out then.”

You flash a glare at him quickly before returning your eyes to the road. “So… Matt was going to be my plus one for a wedding I’m going to, but he can’t go anymore because something came up, and I can’t ask Nick because he’s gay and that just won’t work, and so that just leaves you.” You tell him nervously.

“So what if he’s gay, your family homophobic or something?” Chris asks, annoyance lacing his voice.

You sigh and pull into the Popeyes parking lot, pulling into a spot and throwing the car into park before you turn your body to face Chris. “No, they’re not homophobic. It’s just… I kind of told them I was bringing a boyfriend.”

Chris stares at you for a moment before laughing, completely unserious. “You? A boyfriend? That’s hilarious. I can’t believe you’re lying to your family about having a boyfriend.”

You don’t laugh though, you just drop your eyes down to your lap, knowing that this was exactly how the conversation would go.

“Wait a minute, that means you want me to pretend I’m your boyfriend? Fuck no, I’d rather be single for the rest of my life. Forget it, dude, you’re shit outta luck with me.” Chris shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run through his hair.

You nod and start backing out of the spot, heading towards the drive-thru. “Yeah I figured that was how you’d respond,” you murmur.

You guys order your food, and you still pay for it, staying true to your word, before heading home. It was a quick but quiet ride back, both of you getting out of the car without a word, not even a ‘thank you’ shot your way. You take your shoes off and head back up to Matt’s room, seeing him in the same position you left him in, only now he was watching a movie, and you got in his bed to join him with your food.

“How’d it go?” He asked, reaching out to steal one of your fries.

“Exactly how I expected it to go. He laughed in my face and said he’d rather be single for the rest of his life than pretend to be my boyfriend,” you tell Matt, looking down at him from where you sat.

Matt smiles up at you, reaching out to pat your leg. “Sorry, kid. You tried.”

You nod and look up at the tv screen, starting to eat your dinner.

-

The next day, you’re sitting on your couch panting your toes and watching your favorite comfort show when you hear the doorbell ring, startling you as you weren’t expecting anybody over today. You look down at your toes and swear under your breath, seeing that you smeared polish along your skin.

You set down the polish on the table and stand up, walking to your door and pulling it open, jaw dropping in shock when you come face to face with Chris, the last person you expected to show up at your door unannounced. You almost wanted to rub your eyes in case you were mistaking him for another triplet, but you knew your eyes didn’t deceive you.

“Chris?” You question. “How did you get here?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “I ubered?” He says like it’s obvious. “You gonna let me in or what?”

You take a step back and let him into your house, shutting the door behind him. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You say, sitting back down on your couch. He follows and sits at the opposite end, looking over at you.

He ignores your question, watching you as you continue to do your toes, cleaning up the mess you made. “Why not just get your toes done?” He asks.

You look at him with an annoyed expression. “Costs money? Why spend money when I can sit around and do it myself?” You go back to painting your toes. “Why are you here?”

Chris shrugs. “Been thinking about what you said yesterday, about the wedding.”

You stop what you’re doing and put the polish back down, turning your attention on Chris completely. “Did you change your mind?” You ask him.

He sighs and licks his lips before speaking. “Consider it my charity for the year,” he smiles, tilting his head at you. “But I need a small favor from you.”

“A favor in return isn’t charity, Chris, it’s like… eye for an eye or whatever.” You look at him deadpan. Of course he’d want something in return, he could never do something for you out of the goodness of his heart.

“Whatever, dude, you want my help or not?” Chris asks. “If not I’ll just leave, doesn’t make a difference to me.”

You huff and give in. “Fine. What’s the favor?” You ask him.

He pulls out his phone, scooting a bit closer to you on the couch. “There’s this girl that will not stop hitting me up and she’s driving me crazy. I told her I’m not interested, I’ve ignored her messages, I even blocked her on snap to see if she’d get the hint but she still texts me every day.” He shows you all of the unanswered messages and your jaw drops.

“Holy shit, what does this girl see in you?” You laugh, reading how desperate she was for Chris.

“Funny,” Chris replies, unamused.

“What does this have to do with me?” You ask him, looking back up at his face.

“I think it’s only fair if I pretend to be your boyfriend at the wedding, you pretend to be my girlfriend on social media. Only for a few weeks or until she stops messaging me. Plus, you’re way hotter than her. ” Chris tells you, and by the tone of his voice, he’s completely serious.

You feel heat rising up your neck and you try to get it under control before your cheeks turn red. “You think I’m hot?” You ask him, a teasing lilt in your voice.

“Not the point,” he replies.

“So you tell me that you would rather be single for the rest of your life than pretend to be my boyfriend, and now you want me to pretend I’m your girlfriend?” You clarify, and he just nods, like it’s no big deal. “Pretending to be together at an event is one thing, but you want to take photos to look like a couple? That’s a little… intimate don’t you think?”

Chris shrugs his shoulders. “I’m a big boy, you’re a big girl. Don’t think you can handle a little physical touch without falling for me?” He smirks, leaning in closer to you.

You grimace and reach up to push his shoulder away. “Gross, dude. I could have sex with you and still not fall in love with you and your terrible personality.”

Chris gasps, fake shocked, throwing a hand to his chest. “I am a very good lover, why do you think this girl won’t stop texting me?”

Your eyes widen. “You had sex with her?!” You shriek. “Chris, no wonder she keeps blowing your shit up!”

Chris groans and throws his head back, leaning it on the back of the couch. “It was supposed to be a one time thing, I don’t know why she’s so hung up on me!”

You find yourself giggling a bit before you stop and clear your throat, not wanting to give Chris the satisfaction of making you laugh. You compose yourself and shake your head, clearly disappointed in the boy across from you. “Fine, I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend, but no kissing! I draw the line at kissing.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry, I don’t want to kiss you,” Chris cringes. “So… I guess we should start planning this?”

You nod and smile towards him, placing your hands in your lap as you guys start to figure out how to execute both individual plans.

-

a/n: this chapter is SUPER short but it’s kinda just to get a feel of the fic and how it’s gonna play out. I really hope you guys like this series im so nervous about it!!

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @st6niolo @mattslolita @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @ariana2saucyy @045696

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 6

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love. 

CW: 18+ MDNI. In order to avoid spoilers, all tags are under the cut in small red lettering. Reader does have some body descriptions so more of an oc than female reader.

AN: I don't think I understood the term "labour of love" until right now. I'm emotionally exhausted yet so fucking proud at the same time. Thank you @lotusbxtch for fixing all my grammar and formatting. I also couldn't of done this without @mermaidgirl30 , @littlevenicebitch69, @alltheirdamn, and @for-a-longlongtime (even if you did just try to distract me with Santi the entire time LOL)

Word Count: 14.6k (sorry, grab a snack or two)

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | AO3

CW: use of petnames, mention of losing a spouse, mentions of child abuse (mostly verbal), use of nick names (baby, sweet girl, etc.), dirty talk, spanking, sexual activity in public, kissing, protected p in v, oral (female receiving), consumption of alcohol, mutual pining, mentions of falling in love, Dom/sub dynamics.

You: 911, I need to go buy a dress, but ya’ll can’t ask me what it’s for Laren: no strings attached shopping? Fuck yeah!  You: I’m serious though Laren: Dude, I won’t ask you as long as you don’t ask about the hickey on my neck Jamie: Damn, my dad’s in California so I can’t leave the office. You: hmm…maybe we just tell each other one secret each Laren: oh sorry, forgot I have to vacuum my cat today, can’t shop You: fine, no asking about the hickey. Pick you up at noon? Jamie: Have fun. I need a sugar daddy. Odette: booo! I’m studying. Someone alert me when we learn about the hickey. 

You

Laren’s jaw drops as you step out of the dressing room, the soft silk of the floor length black gown skims against your body. Your eyes trail down the thin straps along your shoulders and down the deep v that sits low on your sternum. You’ve never appreciated your small breasts until now. The risque cut has a soft and romantic feel. Somehow, so does the long slit up your one leg, stopping much higher than most black tie venues would find acceptable. You spin to take in the way the silk dips low on your back. Yeah, Joel Miller is going to love this. 

“You look stunning. I’m not gonna ask, but whoever you’re wearing that for is going to fall in love with you. I might fall in love with you.”

You laugh at her, watching as she tugs the collar of her sweater up to cover the very prominent purple hickey on her pulse point. If only she knew how ridiculous that statement really was. Joel Miller, your dom, falling in love with you. It’s impossible. 

The big box that you stuffed the small, pink and bedazzled box in snickers in your mind then taunts you in her uppity British accent. He loves you, remember how he held your hand so tenderly through that last orgasm? “It’s a date”, “It’s only you”. 

You shake your head and run your hands down your torso and hips, the silk feeling like water under your hands. 

“Wow, that dress was made for you.” The peppy store clerk says as she rounds the corner to the dressing room. “Oh! I have just the accessory, if you don’t mind me showing you?”

You nod and then look over at Laren through the mirror. The two of you haven’t been friends for that long, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s not wearing her massive engagement ring, plus that giant love bite; something is off. “I’m not gonna ask about the hickey, but are you ok?”

“Ya - I’m fine, why?” Her phone goes off in her purse for what feels like the hundredth time since you picked her up. She hasn’t looked at it once and this newest alert doesn’t change that.  

“No reason. I’m here for you though. I hope you know that.” The corners of her mouth lift, but that vivacious sparkle in her eye doesn’t make an appearance. 

You spend longer than you ever had getting ready on Friday. You’ve shaved, exfoliated and moisturized every inch of your skin. You painted your fingers and toes with a fresh coat of pearly white polish, noticing that the skin around your cuticles on your hands isn’t picked clean. For the first time in your life, your anxiety hasn’t needed its usual outlet; picking and pushing at your nails until they’re clean. Even with the last few days kicking your ass, Mister Miller made it better, made you better.

After about three hours, you’ve completed the look: big loose curls, one side pinned behind one ear with a gold clip, exposing the soft slope of your neck that Joel loves to press his lips to. You’ve opted for a neutral glam look; a light smokey grey eye, flirty lashes, a touch of blush and highlighter and a nude lip. 

You keep the jewelry simple, just thin gold hoop earrings and two dainty golden chains, the accessories that the sales girl picked out. The first chain is the longest; one end loops tight to your throat then lays down your sternum, a small clip on the other end holds it in place to the lacy black thong you bought for the occasion. The second chain wraps around your exposed thigh. A few small crystals dangle off the garter. It feels perfect for a sex club, almost like you’re being tied up in gold. 

After wrapping the gift you bought for Joel today you debate taping the dress in place. It’s a sex club, surely a nip slip isn’t the worst thing that can happen. However, Joel would probably forcefully remove anyone who got a peek. As tempting as it is to witness that, you decide to save his sanity for one more day and after placing the last piece of tape you hear the rev of his engine coming down your street. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, it’s been weeks since you’ve heard that sound. That deep rumble will probably always fill you with an excited anticipation of seeing Mister Miller. 

You agreed to let him pick you up tonight since Odette is out. You slip your perfectly pedicured toes into black heeled sandals, working the small golden buckle around the ankle quickly as Joel’s shiny black Jag parks in front of your building. You watch from the window as he gets out of the driver's side door, flowers wrapped in brown paper clutched in his hand. A man that size doesn’t look like he’d fit in that sleek sports car. 

Even from your birdseye view from the fourth floor he looks absolutely gorgeous. You’re sure once he’s right in front of you he’ll be devastatingly handsome, especially once he’s added the gift you got him. Similar to you, he’s in all black tonight. 

The beep of his car locking and the buzz of your door go at the same time and you excitedly hit the button to let him up. It feels like hours before there’s a light knock on your front door. After a shaky breath, you open the door.

Fuuuuuck me, you think as you take him in and actively stop yourself from drooling.

He looks as hot as sin dressed in all black, the lapels of the jacket and the tie slightly silky against the flat black of the rest of his clothing. He’s the living, breathing epitome of JMKink right now. Dressed like that matte black letterhead he still leaves you notes on when you clean for him. You lick your lips as your eyes trail back up his tie. Fuck, you want him to wrap it around your wrists. 

He steps into your front entrance and the apartment feels so much smaller; almost like he takes up every bit of space and simultaneously sucks all the air out of you. His hair is parted to the side, trimmed neatly around his ears, curls perfectly placed. You’re sure it was effortless on his part, just running his fingers through it after getting out of the shower, towel wrapped low on his hips. Your mouth waters as you continue to just stare at one another. 

Joel

“Wow,” he finally manages to rasp. His throat feels like it's full of sand all of a sudden. He clears it gently before continuing. “You look…you’re always beautiful, but you are…”

His eyes travel up and down your body again, he’s feeling lost for words which is not something that happens to him often. He watches your bottom lip slip between your teeth, waiting for him to form a thought.

“Sorry, sweet girl, I need a second here.” He places the bouquet of wildflowers on the small table at the entry then reaches out towards you. He actually feels like he might die if he doesn’t kiss you soon. The whorls and calluses of his fingers drag down the warm, soft skin of your arm gently before he closes his hand around yours. Usually, he loves how small your hand looks in his, but he’s finding it impossibly hard to break eye contact with you right now. As he steps in closely you smile sweetly at him and he’s surrounded by the smell of mint, lavender and something distinctly you. “You look life-alteringly gorgeous. I’m not sure if that’s a word, but wow, Freckles.”

You place your free hand on his chest and he’s sure you can feel how hard his heart is pounding behind his chest. Fuck, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear his heart at this point. He cups your face with his other hand and presses his lips to yours, reveling in the way you melt into him, parting your lips and letting him deepen the kiss. He swallows the quiet moan that you make just for him. You pull away too quickly for him, an excited smile across your face.

“I got you something!” You spin and he’s left breathless again by the low back of the dress and the way the silk skirt sways with your hips. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, following you into the living area of your small apartment. “I don’t want you spending your money on me, sweetheart.”

You spin again and his cock twitches as he catches just how high the slit of the skirt is, and the golden jewelry wrapped around your thigh. In your hands is a large, light brown box tied with a black ribbon. “Technically, I spent your money on you,” you say with a wink. “Open it.”

He steps in close, watching your face go from excited to downright giddy as he pulls at the ribbon. He slips the lid off the box and stares down at the exact same black Stetson that he sent with Tiffany. His heart stops beating as the memories, both good and bad, flood through him. This is the same hat he wore the night he met her, the night of their first date, the night he told her he loved her for the first time, the night he married her. Joel Miller doesn’t believe in signs from the universe, but this? This is something. 

No, he thinks as emotions start to clog his throat. This was Tiffany. 

He blinks away the tears that threaten to form behind his eyes and whispers your name. “Thank you, sweetheart. I - I used to have a hat just like this.”

When he looks back at you your brows are furrowed together, a genuine curiosity across your face. “Used to?”

He clears his throat again, “Yea, it’s complicated, but this - this means more to me than you could ever know.”

He slips his hands into the box, the felt of the brim spreads a warm comfort up his hands and forearms. He swallows hard as he realizes it’s the same comfort he feels when he has you in his arms. 

Oh my god…I think, no, I know. I love you.

It hits him so hard that he has to clutch the hat tighter in his hands to ground himself as he pulls it from the box. He knew he was falling, he knew the second he saw you. He can’t push it down anymore. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, Joel.”

He turns the hat over in his hands, the black satin liner exactly like his old one. He looks up at you, no longer able to stop the smile or the tears that flood his lash line. Your lips part as your eyes dance around his. 

“No, baby, you didn’t. I’ve, well, I’ve been really missing this hat lately.”

“You gonna try it on, cowboy?” The sultry flirtiness of your voice feels sweet on his skin and after a shallow breath he brings the hat up to his head. As the satin slips over his hair a calm confidence washes over him. His eyes meet yours and your flirty smile turns shy as you blush under his gaze. He’s whole again. 

“So?”

“I’m gonna have to fight the women off, I think.” You say softly.

He laughs, moving the box from your hands back to the table and then cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll only be looking at one woman, my sweet girl.” His lips meet yours gently, your tongue swiping softly against his lip as your slant into the kiss. 

I love you.

You

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you’d get from Joel giving him the hat, but his eyes welling up and his breathing getting all shaky was not what you expected. Something about that hat called to you when you saw it. When you picked it up, the soft felt against your palms reminded you of how it feels to be in Joel’s hands. 

He breaks the kiss with a sigh and glances around your apartment. Months ago you would have felt shy or self conscious about Joel in your space, so wholly different from his, but he has never judged you for anything, and you feel yourself becoming more and more comfortable with him which is not a feeling you’re used to. His eyes fall to the scratched wooden coffee table that you got for free from Craigslist.

“You have college letters,” he says proudly, looking back at you.

Your arms cross across your body subconsciously, like they’re trying to shield you from the possibility of being rejected again. “Ya, the last two came today. I’ll open them later.”

“Baby, let's open them! It could be good news.”

He looks so goddamn handsome, in a suit that probably costs more than the entire contents of your apartment and his new black Stetson hat. His expression is encouraging, that same look from his kitchen when you ate some toast; prideful and empathetic. 

“I’m scared,” you almost blurt, wishing you could be smoother with this man. “I don’t want to ruin tonight. If these are both no’s, I don’t know how great of company I’ll be tonight.”

“Freckles, I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want. But I think you’ll be thinking of the letters either way.”

“Ah, my consent stands even for mail,” you joke.

“Well, it's a federal offense to open someone else's mail so…” Joel winks and flashes a devastating smile your way. 

“Ok,” you close your eyes and take a deep breath. He’s right, you’ll be wondering all night what those letters say, and Joel has a way of making you forget, making you feel understood, important and cared for. “Do it.”

As if he’s a child on Christmas morning and you just gave him the ok, he snatches up the University of Austin and Berkeley letters, almost vibrating as he says, “Which one first?”

You start to pace the few steps of your living room, wringing your hands together as your heels click on the cheap laminate hardwood. “Austin, I’ll be less upset by a no from them.”

The tear of the envelope sounds like a dagger to the ribs as you go to grab the flowers Joel brought for you, desperate for something to do besides stand there. 

“It’s a thick envelope..” Joel says as he slides the letter out.

“Ya, I’ve learned that that doesn’t mean shit,” You say sardonically.

Joel laughs in surprise, “Always shocks me to hear that pretty little mouth swear.”

“Yea?” You ask, “Open the fucking letter, you’re killing me.”

Joel snorts as his strong fingers gingerly fold open the letter. His eyes shoot to yours, “You got in!”

“W-What?” You drop the flowers on the counter top and cover your mouth.

“Sweet girl, you got in. I’m - I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You stand frozen on the spot. It’s not the school you wanted, you want Berkeley, but it doesn’t matter what that letter says now, because either way, you’re going to be a lawyer.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as Joel's arms pull you in for a tight hug.

“Congratulations, baby girl.” His lips press to hair and you start to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

You both part from the hug as you fight to stop tears of pure joy from ruining your makeup. “It’s just…you know, for a second there I actually thought that I wasn’t smart enough. Me? I have a 4.0, I graduated early, I’ve been top of my class for years and I actually thought that I wouldn’t get in.”

Joel's eyes dance, a big smile across his face as he watches you fill a vase. “Open the other one.”

He keeps his eyes on you as he opens the next letter. As he folds open the thick eggshell coloured paper you plunge the flowers into the cold water, his face drops and you prepare yourself for the worst, “You got in. Baby, you - you got in.”

You - Four Years Prior

“So what? You think that getting into your fancy university in Texas means you can just leave Arizona whenever you please? Your mom needs you, you can’t just leave.” Your dad is in his patchwork recliner, a beer in his hand despite it being nine in the morning. The hot June morning heating the small house to an uncomfortable stifle. 

“I’ve contributed as much as I can, dad. Two months from now I’m not going to have any time to myself. I deserve some time doing what I want.”

Your dad snorts, legs slamming the leg rest down on the recliner. “You’re an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?”

That should sting, it would to anyone else, but you’ve been called every name possible by your father. You see him now for what he truly is, a loser. He can’t hold a job, hasn’t been able to for years. When you were younger, you thought you were the apple of his eye. He’d show up to every school function, every award ceremony, all the little things. You were eight when you realized he didn’t even speak to you at those functions, just walked around bragging about how he was the reason you’ve achieved whatever you were being celebrated over. It was his time to shine, his award, not yours.

“I’m going,” you say, hoisting your duffle bag of clothing over your shoulder. You’ve always wanted to go back to California. You went once with your mother when you were nine or ten, and the minute you got to the beach and felt the warm sand between your toes everything went quiet. It’s called out to you ever since.

As you spin towards the front door you hear the groan of your dad standing up. Fear spikes in your veins, your heart slamming in your ribs. He’s never hit you, but with the redness of his face as he called you names this morning you wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Like fuck you are!” He bellows as a hard object strikes the back of your head, followed by warm liquid soaking through the back of your t-shirt.

One of your hands cups the back of your head as you bolt towards your recently purchased, and slightly rusted, SUV. “Get back in here right now you little cunt! You stole money from me for that vehicle, didn’t you?”

You can’t help but laugh as you get in the front seat. You don’t bother locking the doors, you know he’s barely out the front door without looking. He’s not strong enough, and definitely too drunk, to overpower you. You throw the vehicle into reverse and yell out the window, “You don’t have any money for me to steal, Doug!”

You hit his first name hard, knowing damn well how much it will enrage him. You drive away without looking back, and you only stop once for gas for the next ten hours. 

The sun is setting as you reach the motel in Newport Beach. You head straight for the beach, kicking off your sandals and letting your feet sink into the cool sand. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, “Mom” across the screen in bold letters.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, still feeling like a child even though you aren’t.

“Get our ass home, right fucking now. You’re supposed to be contributing to this family and somehow you had enough money to buy a car? And a trip to California? Mark my words, young lady. If you don’t walk back through that door by this time tomorrow, I will come there and get you myself!”

A lump forms in your throat. You’ve spent your whole childhood trying to get them to see you. Contributing? None of your friends had to contribute, they all got to be kids. You’re going to be making a lot of money as a lawyer one day, and they can go fuck themselves if they think they’re getting a single penny of that money.

“I’m afraid I won’t be doing that, mother.”

“You’re in for a rude fucking awakening, little girl. Just because you were the smartest person here, does not mean you’ll be the smartest person anywhere else. The world is going to chew you up and spit you out, and your father and I will not be here to fix you.”

“I don’t see how that’s any different than now. Good bye.”

You hang up before she can respond and look out over the water. The sun is setting in a kaleidoscope of peaches, marigolds and lavenders. You block your parents' numbers before snapping a picture of the sunset and setting it as your background. A sense of calm washes over you as the waves crash along the shore. You walk towards the water and dip your feet in, the water washing away the last eighteen years of your life. You’re free.

You - Present Day

A whispered ‘holy shit’ is all you can muster as realization washes over you. Your dream school - and you got in. You can go to the beach and listen to the ocean, feel the sand under your feet. You can feel as free as you did almost four years ago. You lock eyes with Joel. Can you really leave him? 

“I can’t believe I got in. To two schools. I’m going to be a lawyer.” Excitement floods your body. You can worry about deciding later, even though deep down you already know what you're going to choose. Right now, you can just be happy and proud. He reaches a hand out to you and you step into the living room to take it. He pulls you in, wrapping you in his strong arms. 

“I know I said this already, but I am so god damn proud of you, sweet girl. No one deserves this more than you. I want to celebrate this with you soon, please?”

“Well,” you say with a hint of mischief, pulling back to look at him, “We are going to be at the club.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve never seen before. “Ya - the club.”

“Oh my god. We’re late, Joel!” You push out of his hold. This is his big night, his five year anniversary of owning his club.

“Baby, stop,” he pulls you into his arms again and cups your face. “I don’t care. Just let me kiss you until you need to reapply that lipstick, and then we can go.” His lips crash passionately into yours. “I’m so fucking proud of you, sweet girl,” he gasps between kisses.

Joel wasn’t lying. He really did kiss you until your lips were swollen and you had to touch up not only your lipstick but the bit of highlighter on your nose; he also needed to participate, taking one of your makeup wipes to his nose, chin and lips before opening the door to his Jag for you and speeding off to the club.

Upon entering the club, the two of you were separated almost immediately. Joel was whisked away to the stage where he, Tommy and who you assume is Tess are now. The stage is lit up as he gives a speech and thanks everyone. A glass of champagne is handed to you as you stand along the edge of the bar. Everyone claps and as he tries to make his way back to you is pulled into a handshake from a very wealthy looking older man. You smile into your glass of expensive pink champagne as the woman from the stage approaches you.

“Hi! I’m sorry for having to steal him the moment you two walked in.” She extends a perfectly manicured hand out to you. “I’m Tess.”

You go to introduce yourself and she cuts you off as she continues. “Oh, I know who you are. Joel will probably kill me, but we have all been very interested to meet you.”

“All?” you say, swallowing nervously.

She shrugs. “No one has ever seen him this, hmm, this relaxed before. He’s usually here or across the street barking orders. You don’t become as successful as him without a little stress, but since you came along he seems different. Happy.”

You blush, watching him engrossed in a new conversation, his eyes often meeting yours across the room. “Look,” Tess says, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “I hang around the Millers way too often and I could really use some girl talk. Is that ok?”

“Tess, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s girl talk.” You smile at her and then turn to the bartender. “Two tequila shots, please!”

She takes a breath, looking at Joel and then back at you. “I’m just going to cut right to the chase. I didn’t think I’d live to see the day where Joel wore a black cowboy hat again.”

You raise an eyebrow at Tess, this could be your chance to get an explanation around his response. You know you weren’t imagining his eyes getting glassy, and he did say it means more to him than he could ever tell you. “I got him that hat.” 

Tess’s jaw drops and panic rises in your chest. “What? Why? What’s wrong with the hat?” 

“Tequila first,” she says as the shots slide across the shiny black marble bar top. A shiver racks through Tess after she swallows, you don’t flinch. “I don’t know if it’s my place…”

“It’s girl talk, he’ll never know.” You state, sucking at the lime. Tess clears her throat and motions to the bartender for another round. The next time she speaks it’s a hushed, sad voice, just barely above a whisper.  

“He, umm - well, he had a hat just like that growing up. Wore it all the time actually. He had it on the night he met Tiffany, and pretty much every important day in his life since then. Their first date, their wedding. Shit, I’m pretty sure there’s a picture of Sarah as a newborn in that hat. He also wore it the last time he held her.” Her voice trails off and heartbreak for her friend lines her features. “He…she loved it so much that he sent it with her.” 

You swallow hard and glance past Tess’s shoulder to Joel across the club. The moments of time between each of your heartbeats are filled by memories of his reaction. Tess continues, “Look, maybe you're like Joel. Maybe you don’t believe in astronomy or signs from the universe, but I don’t think you finding that hat was a coincidence.”

You aren’t like Joel; you do believe in signs. You thought you were going crazy when you found that hat today. It literally called to you from inside the store. It wasn’t on display in the window. No, you heard someone call your name behind you and when you looked over your shoulder the hat was all you could see. Could that voice have been from the wife he lost too early? You catch Joel’s gaze across the room; something about him, even before you knew him, comforted you. As your mind starts running through the depth of what that hat means to him he winks, you think you might be falling for him. 

All of this means something. It has to mean something. Right? 

“Girl talk stays between us?” You ask shyly.

“Absolutely!” Tess exclaims, you like her more and more and can see yourself being very good friends with her, even if she is almost twice your age.

“Tequila first,” you say in the same way she did earlier. 

She clicks her glass against yours and then on the bar top before slamming the shot back. “I hate tequila,” she rasps while sucking the lime.

“I can’t talk to my girlfriends about this. I don’t know if you know how me and Joel met, but one of my best friends is sort of my boss and I would get fired from my job for knowing him.” Tess nods, and orders you both a glass of what you’re sure is very expensive rosé. “Sometimes Joel says things that make me feel like maybe we are more than a sub and a dom, but that’s ridiculous, right? It’s the heat of the moment.”

“Babe, do you know how long Joel has been doing this?” She asks gently.

You shake your head and take a sip of your wine.

“Years…at one point, being a dom was how he made money. He’s a professional.”

Her words feel like a lead weight in the pit of your stomach, bile starts to burn at your throat. The whiplash of thinking he’s falling, and knowing that you are, and now dealing with this is almost too much. Joel has moved onto a conversation with yet another guest. “Right, he’s good. He’s supposed to make me feel wanted. I think I’m just not used to someone being there.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Tess’s hand comes to grab yours, squeezing reassuringly. “Professional doms don’t say things in the heat of the moment. They don’t give false hopes. If he’s calling you his or struggling to follow limits, that’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.”

The silence after her words is thick between you. He doesn’t say things in the heat of the moment? You swallow the lead weight that’s made its way from your stomach to your throat, your mind racing through all the things Joel has said to you. My sweet girl. It’s a date. It’s only you. 

“Hey,” Tess says, shaking your hand to bring you back. “This DJ sucks, should we go take over the booth?”

You smile, grateful not only for her words of wisdom but now the way she’s able to stop you from spiraling. “Yes, this is a club AND a friday afterall!”

She smiles at you mischievously as she reaches over the bar for the bottle of rosé and then links arms with you as you both practically skip to the booth. “Owning a club is so fun, I recommend everyone try it,” she proclaims through a laugh.

When you reach the booth she waltzes right up to the DJ, “We need dancing music, it’s Friday, it’s a club, and it’s a fucking party!”

“Sorry, Tess. I can’t do that. Joel wanted background music only.” The DJ, who barely looks old enough to be in a club says, his eyes wandering to the low cut of your dress. A few months ago you probably would have been endeared by that look, but you have a real man now. A real man who loves you, says the sparkling box of feelings. 

Tess snorts and then tuts at the poor guy. “Joel won’t appreciate you ogling what belongs to him like that. So play Best Friend by Saweetie or I’ll be sure to let him know.”

His eyes snap back to his booth set up, one hand held up in defeat, the other pushing a few buttons and then turning the volume dial up. You and Tess laugh, taking sips straight from the bottle as you move to the dance floor. This is what you need, a friend to help you dissect what’s been happening. A friend who understands the dom and sub relationship, but more importantly, understands Joel. Does him having feelings change how you feel about university? You’ve always seen yourself going to Berkeley, that’s been the dream, but now? 

Maybe you should just end this now before your feelings grow too far out of control. The box of feelings laughs. You have no idea how deep you are in this, do you?

Joel

I’m gonna kill that little shit. Frustration rolls through his body as the music grows louder and as he turns to shoot daggers at the DJ he sees you and Tess. Your beautiful face is lit up in a large smile as you sip directly from a $400 bottle of rosé. His anger dissipates as you move your body with a sexy sway, lost in the music. 

Joel moves towards the bar, never taking his eyes off of you. Your arms stretch over your head as you shake your ass, the slit of your dress exposing your soft thigh. His palm tingles at the thought of how good you feel against him. The smooth warmth of your leg against the rough calluses of his fingers. 

I love you. 

Joel orders a whiskey and then walks towards the edge of the dance floor, his free hand tucked into the pocket of his pants as he watches you. As the song changes your eyes find him and you crook a finger at him, when he shakes his head you stick your bottom lip out and give him big doe eyes. He shakes his head again as Tess hands you the half drank bottle of wine. The pink tone of the wine casts a romantic glow across your exposed chest as you take a small sip. His cock stirs to life in his pants, remembering how those lips felt wrapped around him. He shakes his head at you again and takes a long pull from his drink. You stick your tongue out at him and spin away from him, wiggling your hips while glancing over your shoulder. 

I fucking love you.

You spin back towards him and crook your finger at him again, mouthing ‘please?’. He stays rooted to the spot. Joel doesn’t dance, especially not to this kind of music. His heart flutters as you start to walk over to him, everything moves in slow motion, the sexy way your dress clings to your hips with each movement, the flash of your thigh, the slight bounce of your breasts with each step. It feels like hours have passed by the time you stop in front of him. 

“Please come dance with me.” You say, fluttering your lashes slightly.

He grabs the expensive bottle of wine from you and places it on the tall table beside him. “This is very expensive wine.”

“That was Tess’s doing,” you smile.

“I’m sure it was, because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His hand strokes your cheek and he clocks the goosebumps that rise on your skin.

“Please come dance, Mister Miller?”

“I don’t dance, sweet girl.”

You pout again and he wants to suck that perfect bottom lip between his teeth so badly. “What if you just stand there and I dance around you?”

One day he’s going to have to learn how to say no to you, but today won’t be that day. He takes the last sip from his glass and puts it beside the wine. You bounce excitedly on the balls of your feet as he holds a hand out to you. You lead the way, the dance floor now full of people, heading back towards Tess. Joel’s hands come to your hips as you grind against him for the last few bars of the song. 

A slow twang of guitar starts off the next song. Joel spins you to face him. “This I can dance to.” He whispers, pulling you in close, one hand low on your back, the other holding yours to his heart. 

You smile up at him, “Full of surprises, aren’t you, sweet cheeks?”

At this angle the brim of his hat blocks out everything except for you; not that he needs something to block out the rest of the world when he’s around you. I love you.

“For the right woman I can be, freckles.” He says warmly as you melt into his body.

The two of you continue to dance in a comfortable silence. He watches your lips as your tongue glides across them and just as he’s about to lean in and taste you you speak. “I don’t think I said this yet tonight, but congratulations. This is a huge accomplishment and I’m so proud of you and grateful that you brought me into this space. I hope it’s not too bold, but this has done exactly as I hoped. I feel - freer almost, if that makes sense.”

“Good,” his lips press to your forehead. “And thank you.”

Your neck cranes forward, towards the tangled mess of your hands against his chest. Your lips pressing to the knuckle of his thumb. The gesture shoots straight to his heart.  

“I’ve been feeling a bit bad though. You’ve had to go to two events for me this week.” You go to protest but he cuts you off. “What would you be doing tonight if it wasn’t for this?”

You hum in thought. “Any bar where there’s an open mic night or a local band.”

“That so? Do you participate in the open mic?” 

“No, absolutely not, but I enjoy music and watching people do things they’re passionate about.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Let’s go then.”

“What?”

“Let’s go. I’ve said thank you to all the VIP’s. Let's go do your thing.”

You

“Can we do that?” You ask, trying not to let the smile that’s pulling at your cheeks win.

Joel laughs quietly. “It’s my party, I can do what I want. They can all stay, but the longer I stay here the more I’m going to be pulled away. And you’re the only person at this party that I want to talk to.”

That’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.

The boulder is growing in your throat again as you croak, “We’re dressed awfully fancy for a local bar.” 

Joel smiles down at you, his eyes soft. You start memorizing every detail of his face. Everything surrounding the two of you went fuzzy the second he pulled you into his arms. This man, dressed in all black, blurs the edges of everything around you, sucking you in and making you feel like the only person he sees. The slow country song that you didn’t even hear starts to come to end. “I don’t care. Any more concerns?”

He doesn’t care, he’ll never care, he just wants to be with you. The box of feelings that's grown exponentially over this evening inches its way out of the shadows, and you can’t deny it anymore. 

You’re falling in love with Joel Miller. 

“Let’s go,” you say, excitement replacing the lump in your throat.

Joel wastes no time, peeling your bodies apart and pulling you towards the exit. He doesn’t look back as Tommy calls his name, only stopping at the front desk to grab your purse. You feel giddy, almost as if the two of you are doing something wrong. He opens the car door for you and then hops into the driver's seat. You pull out your phone, ignoring him as he comments on your cracked screen being a hazard, and check for open mic nights, finding one in a small bar just a few streets over. 

The bar is small, about ten tables crammed together and then a few stools along the bartop. The stage is only big enough for one person, a few guitars on stands, a stool, and the mic stand. The lighting is low, different neon signs above the bar doing the majority of the work. You’re way overdressed and the looks you get from the packed bar further prove it. 

Joel pulls you through the crowd towards the bar. You were feeling slightly tipsy dancing with Tess, but there is something so sobering about being pulled into Joel's arms. And now that you’ve realized you’re falling in love with him, his next question is very welcome.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yes, please.” You smile sweetly, plastering your front to Joel’s side as he squeezes into the bar. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

“Two old fashioneds,” he says deeply to the bartender. You stifle a giggle, “What?”

“You just give me so much ammunition sometimes.”

He swats at your ass and then squeezes, not caring who may or may not see. It’s exhilarating getting to just be yourselves away from the club and you have a feeling you’ll quickly become addicted to this. “Mighty thin ice, baby.” 

The raspy voiced woman with crazy curly hair finishes her set as Joel pays for the drinks. It appears that most of the crowd was here to see her, a few tables free up and the place doesn’t feel so crowded. The MC for the night gets back onto the stage. 

“Alright, if anyone else wants to show us what they’ve got tonight I’ll be by the bar.” There’s a few cheers and some clapping as the bar empties out drastically, only about twenty people are left. Joel pulls out a chair for you and then sits beside you.  

“Thank you for the drink,” you say, bringing the liquid to your lips and taking a small sip. The warmth of it heats all the way down to your belly, a familiar feeling when you’re around Joel.

“Of course,” he nods, sipping his. “So? Do you come here often?”

You laugh, leaning forward on your arms, noticing the way Joel’s eyes bounce from your face to your breasts; now pushed together for him. “What a line! But no, I have never been here. I kinda like it though.”

The MC’s voice fills the room, welcoming a brave soul to the stage. A tall man in cowboy boots and a shiny buckle joins the stage, carefully picking a guitar from the rack before he begins singing. You can tell by the warmth along the side of your face that Joel is watching you and not the man on the stage. 

“He’s pretty good,” you say, looking back towards Joel. It’s almost unfair how he can still look so sexy in the neon glow of the lights above the bar. 

“Mediocre,” he says with a scoff and sips his drink.

You glance around, “Ok, well you listen to this mediocre man, I’m going to find the washroom.”

You feel Joel’s eyes on your back as you walk away. The gender neutral bathroom is surprisingly clean and you giggle to yourself at the interaction you had once Joel was no longer looking at you. You try to act natural as you head back to the table, sitting down and smiling at Joel.

His eyebrow arches, “What did you do?” 

God you hate how well he knows you. There’s no hiding anything from this man. Regardless, you stifle the fit of giggles that are right on the tip of your tongue, “Nothing! I had to pee. Is that not allowed?”

You raise your glass to your lips, trying to hide the smile as the MC heads back up to the stage. “You did something bad, I can tell.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have another performer tonight. Please welcome to the stage Joel Sweet Cheeks Miller.”

Joel shoots a teasing glare at you as you start hollering, “Woo! Sweet cheeks!!” You clap your hands loudly. He lets out a sigh, pushing himself up and then grabbing his drink before heading to the stage. 

He steps up, running his fingers over the guitars before choosing a black acoustic. He puts his Old Fashioned on the stool and loops the guitar over his head. Your body reacts in a way you didn’t think it would. Fire erupts on your belly, you take a sip of your drink to try to put it out but the heat of the liquor only makes it worse. He adjusts the knobs on the guitar after hitting the strings a few times and then looks up at you and crooks two fingers, calling you to him. You obey, practically floating to the man you’re falling in love with. 

Joel bends at the hip, taking his cowboy hat off and placing it on your head. His voice is a gravel filled whisper as he says, “I’m going to spank that pretty little ass of yours in that washroom you were looking for after this.”

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You rasp.

He stands back up, and clears his throat before starting. “This is, well, this is the largest audience I’ve ever played in front of so, go easy on me.”

His hand pushes back the few curls that have fallen onto this forehead before he strums at the guitar. 

If I ever were to lose you I’d surely lose myself

His voice is like stepping into a hot bath, full of warmth and comfort.

Everything I’ve found here I’ve not found by myself

He doesn’t break eye contact with you, only glancing away occasionally when he moves his fingers along the cords. 

Try and sometimes you’ll succeed To make this man of me All my stole missing parts I’ve no need for anymore

You stare up at him, lips slightly parted, as everything falls into place. 

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You could go to Berkeley and do great, probably middle of the pack, but you’d reach your goals. You’d become a lawyer and leave school with a handful of job offers. Or…you could stay. You could stay and be the top of your class here. You could stay and continue being with Joel. 

Back when I was feeling broken I focused on a prayer You came deep as any ocean Did something out there hear?

The box of feelings starts to vibrate, making it almost impossible to breathe.

All the complexities and games  No one wins, but somehow they still played All the missing crooked hearts They may die, but in us they live on

You’re staying. You’re going to the University of Texas at Austin School of Law.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see  Our future days  Days of you and me

And just like that, the box of feelings explodes like one of those worms in a can of fake peanuts.

When hurricanes and cyclones raged When winds turned dirt to dust When floods they came, the tides they raise Even closer, became us

This wasn’t part of your plan, but you can’t let this go.

And all the promises at sundown I meant them like the rest

You hear his voice, ‘It’s only you, sweet girl’ and ‘your consent is the most important thing to me.’

All the demons used to come ‘round I’m grateful, now they’ve left.

‘Does it look like I own things that aren’t perfect’, ‘tell me, tell me you’re perfect’.

So persistent in my ways Hey, angel, I’m am here to stay

‘I’m here for you’.

No resistance, no alarms Please, this is just too good to be gone

You’re not falling in love. No, you’re already so madly, deeply, insanely in love with this man that it hurts and feels amazing all at the same time.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You suck in a breath for what feels like the first time since he started singing, your chest practically heaving at the release of emotion you’re experiencing. 

You and me It’s just, you and me

You’re not sure if people are clapping, you can’t hear anything over your own voice in your head screaming out ‘I love you’ over and over again. Joel hops off the stage, his eye flashing onyx as he growls, “punishment time, my sweet girl.”

Joel

The way your eyes sparkled as he sang and the way you’re following him now, your warm fingers laced in his as he pulled you gently to the bathroom, almost have him convinced that you feel the same way he does.

He locks the door, then jiggles the handle to make sure it’s secure. He’s shared subs with other men and women, he’s used the rooms for people to watch at the club; fuck, one time he even made one sub kneel completely naked at his feet while he sat at the bar of the club. But someone seeing you, something that is all his, ignites a protectiveness that he’s only ever felt for two other women. 

You giggle mischievously as he steps close, plucking his hat off your head and placing it back on his. “What did I say I was going to do to you, baby?” 

He watches your bottom lip disappear between your teeth before you say, “You were going to spank me.” 

He spins you roughly by your hips, pulling your back flush to his chest before walking you over the pedestal style sink. He watches in the mirror at the tell tale signs of your building arousal. Your cheeks flush, the pink creeping down your neck and exposed chest. He sees the way your eyes glass over, cock drunk before even getting it. Joel loves how easy you are to turn on, loves even more that it’s just for him.

No, I just love her.

He stops, the soft light above the mirror lighting the two of you up in yellow glow. The small bathroom is clean, but dark. White and black checkered floor with white walls; hopefully thick walls, but he has ways to keep you quiet while he punishes you. 

His lips come to the exposed side of your neck, hovering just above where he can see your pulse quickening. He hears the hitch of your breath as he inhales your lavender scent. He slips into full dominant mode, keeping his voice a deep growling whisper, “Hands on the edges of the sink, sweet girl.”

You obey him without hesitation, leaning forward and wrapping your hands around the shiny white sink. His eyes lock on yours through the mirror as he fists the soft silk of your skirt. His palms tingle at the thought of getting to feel you soon and his cock jumps at the thought of your heart-shaped ass being pink with his handprints. 

As the skirt crawls to be just above your knees he says, “How many should you get for that little stunt?”

He watches the goosebumps that spread across your skin. “Five?” Your voice is sweet and innocent with the ask.

The skirt starts to hike up higher, the long slit could give him easy access, but he’s playing a role right now, and he knows that the anticipation makes it better so much better for his sub. “Not much of a lesson in five. How about ten.”

It’s not a question and he knows you know it. He’d be lying though if he said he didn’t want to see if you’d fight him just a little bit. Brat taming is not his thing; granted neither is spanking a sub he’s fallen in love with in a bathroom of a dingy bar while wearing a six thousand dollar suit. 

A shiver runs through your body as he exposes your ass. The lacy black thong sends his thoughts into overdrive. God damn, what I wouldn’t give to fuck this woman, just once. 

“Do I have your consent to spank you ten times?”

You nod, “Yes, Mister Miller.”

He takes one of your wrists in his hand and brings it back to hold your skirt up and then repositions himself to be beside you instead of behind you. He takes you in, bent over with your ass exposed, pupils blown out. Your chest rises and falls with shallow, shaky breaths. He’s going to have to keep you quiet.

A hand clamps around your lips and your eyes widen. “If you want me to stop, drop the skirt. Got it?”

You nod into his palm as the first slap fills the room. Your skin is soft and warm under his touch as he makes contact again. By the third strike, his hand around your mouth muffles a squeal. The fourth spank lands on your other cheek and a quiet husky moan rumbles against your lips and his palm.

“You’re supposed to be my sweet girl,” he taunts as another loud slap fills the room. He’s been watching you in the mirror the entire time, enjoying the way you try to keep eye contact; but now, at the halfway mark of your spanking, your eyes are hooded with need. He looks down your ass, grinding his hips into your side at the sight of his bright red handprints tattooed on your cheeks. “Fuck, you look so good all marked up.”

He spanks you again watching the jiggle of your ass and how it ripples down your leg. Your back arches as you whimper quietly. “Atta girl,” he says proudly, smiling to himself. “Three more.”

Joel administers the last three spankings quickly, two on one cheek and one on the other. The sound of his palm on your flesh goes straight to his cock each time, he’s practically rutting into your hip bone to relieve some of the ache. He’s given a lot of spankings in his time as a dom and his body has never reacted this way. I’m so goddamn in love with her, I should keep spanking her for making me feel like that, but if I don’t taste her right now I’m going to go insane. 

His hand grabs your skirt while his other drops from your face. Your breaths come in fast, like you just ran a marathon. He guides you to stand and then spins you around, a hiss leaves your lips, “It’s cold,” you whisper, making eye contact with him. 

He takes his hat off and places it on your head before kneeling down in front of you.

You

The cool porcelain soothes the delicious burn along your ass, but the burn quickly spreads through your body as the man you’ve realized you’re in love with kneels in front of you. His voice has an edge of desperation as he says, “I need to taste you, please baby.”

What is he doing to me? He has to know what he’s doing to you, right? Did he mean the lyrics of that song or is it just the only song he knows? However, at this moment, you’re just as desperate for him. 

“Yes,” you nod frantically as you speak, “Mister Miller. Please.’

His mouth connects with your lace covered cunt. Licking over the thin fabric, teasing you with light but mind numbing pressure. Joel Miller always looks good, tall and broad, tanned skin that crinkles slightly around his eyes when he smiles, but when he’s on his knees in front of you it ignites something low in your belly. His curly dark hair is soft to the touch and you bring your hand to his scalp now. He groans at the feeling of your hands on him and continues to lick at your clit through your panties. 

The black cowboy hat falls over your eyes, your other hand raises to hold it out of the way. Even with the decision to stay here for law school, you don’t want to miss a second of the salacious acts playing out right in front of you. 

“Oh god, Mister Miller,” you whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible. 

He moves to kiss at your thigh, hooking a finger around the gusset of your soaked lace. “This fucking garter, sweet girl. Been drivin’ me crazy all night,” he growls between kisses.

He pulls your panties to the side and your nipples harden under your dress as the cool air hits your throbbing pussy. “Fuck,” he practically whimpers. “You smell so good. Taste so good, too.”

His mouth latches around your clit, sucking it between his lips and everything goes fuzzy as the burn in your lower belly starts to spread. “Ohgodohgood, f-fuck.”

The tip of his tongue flicks against your swollen aching clit with each suck and you start to panic over how you’re going to keep quiet while you come. One of his fingers that pulls your thong out of the way teases at your entrance, gathering your arousal, before he pushes it inside of you to the first knuckle. He looks up at you, eyes flushed onyx as he swallows down everything you give him. 

“Mister Miller,” you hum as he pushes his forefinger the rest of the way in. When he curls it forward you release the grip on his salt and pepper curls and clamp your hand around your mouth.

He pulls away, a dimple carving out his cheek as he smirks. “Feels that good?” He flicks gently at your clit and you moan in agreement into your hand. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel sucks your clit back into his mouth, pumping his thick finger against the spongy spot that makes you melt and the heat bursts into tingling pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you fight to keep quiet, grinding your hips unabashedly against Joel’s face. He’s relentless with his ministrations and you bite at your palm as another wave rolls through you. 

The spasms of your pussy around his finger slow and you’re finally composed enough to drop your hand, grabbing his shoulder as your knees threaten to give out. Joel slips his finger out from you, placing light, lingering kisses on your mound before standing. His hands find your hips, holding you steady. 

“Kiss me,” you slur, feeling drunk off the pleasure.

Your arms loop around his neck as he kisses you. His lips taste like you and you lick at the heady sweetness. You slant your head, kissing him deeper. His body goes soft, relaxing into the kiss. You could do this with him forever, and for once it’s not the box of feelings saying that. The contents of that box have coated your entire brain with the love it housed for the man you’re not even supposed to know exists. The two of you break apart, both panting for air. You break the silence first.

“Take me to the club.”

“We can’t go back there. I’ll just get sucked back into the crowd.” His nose runs up and down yours, dark chocolate brown eyes never leaving yours. 

“I need more, Mister Miller. Please, take me.”

“Shit,” he huffs. “Come with me.”

Joel

This is so incredibly stupid, he thinks as he pulls into his neighborhood. The moment the two of you got back into his car you leaned over onto his shoulder and closed your eyes. He should take you to your apartment. You must be exhausted from all the studying and working you’ve been doing. Plus, he kept you out late for two nights. He pulls up onto his driveway, and the slight bump from the curb causes you to stir. He parks in the driveway and watches as you blink and register where you are. 

“I can take you home if you want.”

“No, I want to be with you.” Your eyes widen and you start to do that thing where you ramble, only to dig yourself deeper.

Joel chuckles and then leans forward, pressing your lips to your forehead to stop you. “I knew what you meant, baby girl.”

He gets out of the car and then comes around to open your door. When you left the bar tonight you tried to open your door, again, and he scolded you gently. He smiles to himself that you’ve listened finally, that or you’re just too tired and he should really be taking you home. But when he helps you out of the car and meets your gaze again you look anything but tired. Need and arousal flood his system as he takes you in, lips slightly parted and eyes dancing around his face. Your words from the bathroom ring in his ears. I need more, Mister Miller.

He snaps, lips slamming against yours, your hands immediately finding the curls at the nape of his neck; the only hair you can reach because of the cowboy hat still proudly perched on top of his head. He lifts you, moaning at the feeling of your toned thighs wrapping around his waist. He moves on instinct, closing the car door and walking into the house while the two of you fervently kiss in a mix of tongue and teeth. You nip at his bottom lip as he walks into the marble foyer. He closes the garage entry door and presses you against it, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, His cock is painfully hard behind his pants.

“I need you,” you whine after your lip is free from his mouth.

“What do you need?”

You kiss at his neck, hands moving to loosen his tie. “I need you to fuck me, please, Mister Miller.”

I love you. 

He keeps you pinned to the door, his one hand grabbing yours and pinning them above your head. How many times is he going to have you in the position, fighting against what you’re begging for? Hopefully, it never stops.

“My sweet girl, you know I can’t do that.” It physically hurts him to turn you down.

You pout at him before speaking, “Then just be naked with me, I need to feel your skin on mine. Please?”

He kisses you again and starts to move the two of you towards the stairs. Between kisses, he says, “What happened to that shy girl who couldn’t even tell me she wanted me to dominate her?” 

You laugh against his lips, “She’s been corrupted.”

“I’m a bad man,” he hums with a laugh and walks up the stairs with you plastered to his chest; one hand around the globes of your ass, the other tucking your head into his neck so he can see where he’s stepping. The moment you reach the top of the stairs he pulls your face back to his to kiss you again.

“This is where it happened,” you say, as he passes the office. 

“Where what happened?” He says, pulling back to look at you, his eyebrows draw in in confusion and the black Stetson he forgot he was wearing falls forward slightly. You take the hat off his head, looking at him all wide-eyed and amused. 

“The corruption,” you say with a wink. Joel snorts in response and then his lips are back on yours. He has missed having this mix of passion and humour with someone.

When he passes over the threshold of his bedroom he places you on your feet. He told himself he wouldn’t ever have you here. No, not told, promised, because he knew what having here would mean. But you made him fall in love with you anyway. The air in the bedroom feels thicker, and his breathing quickens as he looks at you. The only light that trickles in is from the hallway. He takes in your sparkling eyes, your lips, puffy from his kisses and light nips; the perfect curls of your hair are slightly dishevelled and truthfully - he has never found you more beautiful. 

I love you. 

You

Butterflies assault your stomach as you stare at Joel. He takes the hat from you and tosses it gently on the foot of the bed behind you. The room is deafeningly silent, only the sounds of both of your quickened breathing and thundering heartbeats fill the void. You stand frozen, the heels of your strappy black sandals sinking into the plush carpet of his bedroom. You remember when you carried his sheets to the washing machine just a few weeks ago, being surrounded by the delicious scents of ash and leather. You had no idea who Joel was then, the man in this house was just a fantasy in your mind. You wait for him to make the first move. Finally, his thick fingers find the zipper along your side. 

“Are you sure about this?” He says, his voice is hoarse, and you can tell he’s nervous. You wish knowing that would calm you, but truthfully it just makes your heart burst even more. This morning, the thought of anyone, but especially Joel, having feelings for you was ridiculous, but now you aren’t so sure it’s that absurd after all.

“Yes, Mister Miller. I just - I need…” he watches you patiently. Playing with the small metal zipper pull. 

“Don’t be shy, sweet girl. Just tell me what you need.” 

“I need to feel your skin against mine. Please.” 

He pulls at the zipper as his lips meet your neck. “I love when you ask so politely. My good girl, aren’t you?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, fighting the sway of your legs to stay upright. 

If he’s calling you yours, that’s Joel speaking. Not his dom alter ego. 

Joel’s fingers come to the thin straps along your shoulders. The warmth of his hands against your skin causes you to shiver. He drags the straps down your arms and then frowns at the tape holding the dress to your chest. He tugs gently and you gasp at the pull of the tape. Before you can protest, the sting is soothed by his lips, kissing the sore, pink skin. He does the same thing after tugging the other side and the silky black dress pools at your feet. 

You watch the muscles of Joel’s throat flex as he swallows, eyes trailing down your body. “Turn around.”

You spin on the balls of your feet, careful to not catch your heels on the carpet. “So you need to feel me, is that right, sweet girl?” 

You nod your head. “Yes, Mister Miller.” 

One of his hands comes to gently rest on your shoulder and instinctively lean into his touch. His fingers whirl around as he traces down your shoulder blade and then back up to your neck. “I can’t believe how beautiful you looked tonight. I kept getting pulled away from you every time I tried to get back to you. It was killing me to be away from you.” 

You let your eyes close as his fingers run down your spinal column. You feel his heat leave your back and then his lips sponge kisses along the globes of your ass, his hands holding your hips possessively.

“You were such a good girl tonight. Outside of the little singing stunt,” he says between kisses. Every spot that took the punishment of his palm is given attention. “But you paid for that, didn’t you sweet girl?” 

You giggle quietly before saying. “Yes, Mister Miller. Thank you, but I can’t promise I won’t do it again.” 

“Good,” he laughs, standing up behind you. You hear the unmistakable sound of his silk tie being pulled off. “Because I don’t want you to ever stop teasing me.” 

He tosses the tie towards his dresser. Before you know it, he’s spun you around and lifted you into his arms again. Your body knows just what to do, your legs clamping around his waist on their own. He captures the squeak that leaves your lips with his mouth. Nothing makes you melt faster than the feel of Joel’s lips on yours. They’re soft but firm, his tongue warm against yours as he takes what he wants from you and there’s no way you’re not going to let him. 

He sits you on the dresser and plants his hands on each side of you as your hands move to work the buttons on his shirt. His lips never leave yours. 

“I need you,” you whine as you get the first few buttons undone. The heat of his chest skimming against your fingertips has a fresh wave of arousal coat your already soaked pussy. 

Joel moans needily at your confession as he pulls back slightly. He rips at his shirt, buttons burst before he tears it off and stands shirtless in front of you. Your eyes trail down his strong broad chest, stopping on the prominent bulge behind his pants. Your hands fly to his belt. He watches you with rapt fascination as you work the buckle and then the button of his pants. 

As you move to the zipper, his fingers go to the lace of your panties. He growls as he splits the fabric. 

“Joel!” You gasp. “Those were thirty dollars!” 

He grabs your leg, placing the ball of your foot on his chest,unbuckling your shoe. “I just ruined an $800 dress shirt. I’ll buy you more.” 

The shoe hits the floor and he grabs your other foot, his eyes locking to yours as he commands, “And it’s Mister Miller. I’ve been lenient with you. Another mistake and you will be punished - severely.” 

For such harsh words, he’s being so careful with the small golden buckle on your shoe. “Yes, Mister Miller,” you say sweetly, batting your lashes innocently. 

“Feet up on the dresser. Spread your legs for me, sweet girl.” 

You lean back slightly, hands being used as an anchor behind you, placing your heels on the edge of the dresser. Cool air hits your drenched cunt and you fight yet another shiver. You’re spread wide for Joel, every single thing on display for him. He looks at you like you hung the moon and your heart flips behind your ribs. You suddenly feel like you did the first time the two of you spoke in his kitchen, his gaze is too much, too intense, and it becomes nearly impossible for you to not yell out that you love him, so you look away, your eyes falling to his strong chest.

“Eyes up here,” he murmurs as he takes the smallest step back. 

Your mouth goes dry as you look back up at him. In your peripheral you can see his hands going to his belt, the sound of the buckle jingling tempts you to look down. “Atta girl, stay right here with me.”

You stay in his warm coffee brown pools, flecks of gold and honey appearing as the soft light of his bedroom hits him. I love you.

He bends slightly, his pants and boxers falling to the ground. You try to swallow once, twice, never leaving his gaze as the rest of his clothing comes off. You swear that time stops, the two of you are suspended in a moment that’s all yours. He steps forward and you can feel the heat of his skin against your entire body, you melt into his warmth.

“You want to look, don’t you?” he taunts.

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you hum.

 The soft tip of his cock gently nudges at your clit and you gasp. “Look down, baby.”

You peel your eyes away from his, looking down to see where his body caresses against yours. The tip of his impossibly hard cock, precum glistening as it leaks for you, pressing lightly to your soft and swollen clit. His piercing lays flat against his pelvis and you remember what he said about there being benefits to it. You try to memorize the sight in front of you. As filthy and debauched as this is, it’s also passionate and beautiful; it's the epitome of Mister Miller and your time with him. 

“Fuck, sweet girl. Your pussy is so pretty…and soft.” You watch as he wraps his hand around the thick base of his cock and rocks his hips. His cock slides easily along the warm folds of your drenched cunt, you swear you can feel the ridge of the underside of the tip as he says,  “Who has you this turned on? Huh, sweet girl?”

“You,” you whimper as your legs start to tremble.

“God damn,” his voice now matching yours, “How’d I get so lucky.”

This time you know he’s not asking you a question, yet you hum in agreement as his cock slides back over your clit, the swollen nub relishing in the friction and the feel of him against you. You hope he’s going to keep going, you want to feel him inside of you more than you need oxygen. Instead, his other hand slips between the two of you, his strong digits teasing at your entrance. He slides along your clit again as one of his fingers pushes inside of you. 

“Is this ok?” He whispers.

“Yesyes - fuuuuck, Mister Miller.” A bead of pre cum lands on your mound at the sound of pleasure passing your lips. 

“Such a good girl for me. Already learning how to take me so well.” His finger slips out as a second joins it. “She’s begging for it, tryin’ to suck me in. So tight, my gorgeous sweet girl.”

Your foreheads meet and it all becomes too much again. You close your eyes as his fingers finally fill you. “Don’t stop,” you whine desperately.

His hips pick up their pace, pressing harder along your most sensitive spots. You get that floating feeling again. He’s so close to exactly how you need him, how you want him. The voice from your now-exploded box of feelings adds, “For the rest of your life”. 

You keep your eyes closed, sparks of pleasure occasionally flickering behind them. You’re getting closer to your high with every press of his body against yours. You know if you opened your eyes you’d be able to fall over the edge, but you aren’t ready to be done imagining how it would look if his cock was doing what his fingers were right now. 

“I can feel you’re getting close, baby. Clenchin’ my fingers so hard.” His voice is full of admiration, not a tone you’re used to hearing in moments like this. You used to think that you had a first love, and while none of your exes ever mistreated you, they also didn’t look at you or speak to you the way Joel Miller does. 

His pace increases again as he curls his fingers forward, your body jolts up with the newly applied pressure behind your clit. You grip his shoulders to ground yourself, the inside of your thighs start to ache, but you’re not going to let your feet fall from the dresser. Truthfully, the burning ache only seems to intensify the pleasure at the apex of your thighs.

“Open your eyes, watch how good your pussy looks against me.”

“I ca-can’t. ‘M so close. I don’t - oh fuck - don’t wanna be done.” 

“Just because you come, it doesn’t mean we are done, sweet girl. I’m not ready to be done. I want you to come as many times as you need to.” He presses his cock down against your clit harder as he speaks.

Before you can even take your next breath your orgasm washes over you. It hits hard and for a second you think your throat is constricted, but just as the wall of your pussy relaxes and begins to flutter, a euphoric scream frees itself from your airway. You start to pant, your body falling back to rest on the wall behind you. Joel falls forward with you, and just when you think you’re about to come down from your high, the pressure at this angle sends the strongest wave of your orgasm through you and you begin to gush around his fingers. 

“That’s my good fuckin’ girl. Soak me.” Pride swells in his eyes as you chant his dominant name like a prayer. Your breathing starts to even and he slows his fingers and hips, ensuring not to send you into any overstimulation. I’m not ready to be done yet. He slowly removes his fingers, then wraps his arm around you to pull you up. Your feet fall from the dresser and the relief your muscles feel causes you to let out a pleasurable sigh.

Joel

He needs more, so much more, but waits for you - taking a few slow breaths in time with yours. When he sees you coming back down to earth he slides the tip of his cock up and down. At this angle, there’s no risk of accidentally slipping so he runs himself along every part he can reach. 

“Kiss me,” you mumble, bringing your face towards his. He captures your lips in a sweet kiss, a kiss he’s sure you can tell isn’t the way a dom kisses his sub. He realizes at that moment that he’s never kissed you that way. No, he’s always kissed you with everything he had, giving himself to you piece by piece. 

More. His inner voice growls. I’ll never come back up for air now.

Joel whispers your name between kisses and you both pull back just enough to see each other's faces. “When we got here, you said you wanted me to fuck you. Do you still want that?”

He watches your eyes dance around him. Confusion, fear, excitement and arousal line yours before you pull back from him. He scolds himself for saying it. Of course you’re going to panic, this is supposed to be a safe space. He set a complete ban on sex before he even met with you the first time. It’s right there, in his dom profile; because that’s what he is, he’s your dom. You can come here and beg for it, because you know it’s a safe place where it won’t happen. 

He prepares himself for you to slap him or yell at him. Instead, you say, “Mister Miller, I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to. This was a hard limit for you, and where I very much want to, I don’t want you to break any promise to yourself.”

He let his eyelids fall shut, for the first time, he doesn’t want to be Mister Miller. He wants to be Joel. 

I love you.

Goosebumps break out along his skin as you drag your hands up to his neck, fingers scraping along the back of his scalp. “Talk to me.”

“Just call me Joel,” he says through the boulder that’s lodged in his throat. 

He feels your warm lips meet his cheek, kissing him softly before you clear your throat quietly and then whisper into his ear. “Please fuck me, Joel. Fuck me or I might die or go insane.”

“Again,” he growls.

“Fuck me, Joel.” You say, louder and with more conviction than the last time.

He scoops you off the dresser, your soft naked thighs tightening around his waist and he steals your squeal with his lips, kissing you hard with hurried passion. He’ll worry tomorrow about what getting you to call him Joel means, all he knows at this moment is that he needs to hear that you need him just as much as he needs you. 

  He lays you on the bed, pressing down into your warmth. He can feel how wet you are as you grind up into him. His lips grow hungrier, kissing every bit of your face and neck he can reach, relishing in the feel of your hands running up and down his biceps, your short nails scraping his skin occasionally. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks before fusing his lips to your neck.

Your feet fall to the bed and you arch into him. “Yes, Joel.” 

He raises to his knees, unclipping the chains around your body and then working with you to slip your ruined panties off. He reaches over to the bedside table to get a condom, using his teeth to peel the foil open and sliding it on. You’re always completely at his mercy, but this time he’s wholly at yours. One of his hands grips your hip, the other wraps around his cock as he takes in all your soft smooth skin, and memorizes the constellations that your freckles make along your body. Your breasts heave with each shallow inhale and shake beautifully with each exhale. Finally, his gaze meets yours, your eyes filled with every emotion he’s feeling. 

“There’s no safeword anymore, my sweet girl. If you tell me to stop, I will.”

You nod as he lines himself up, the warmth of your tight entrance calling to him. Joel pushes gently, your hips rising to encourage him. His balls tighten at the feeling of you wrapped tightly around the tip. 

“So tight, sweet girl.” He falls forward, both forearms beside your head to keep his weight off of you. 

The two of you rock in tandem, working more of him into you. “Oh god, Joel. More,” you moan.

There was a time when he told you to only call him Joel, it was the only name you could use that would keep this side of him from taking over. But now, hearing your voice say his name in the needy little vibrato, it’s having the same effect as when you call him Mister Miller. He’s sure you know exactly how he feels, and he’s now certain that you feel the same way. 

Your hips grind into his and pleasure spikes through his entire body. He’s fully seated inside of you now, your tight pussy squeezing him sweetly. He buries his face into your neck, lavender hypnotizing him. Everything he can see, hear, smell and feel is you. His sweet girl. 

“More, please, more.” You whine, circling your hips. 

His jaw flexes as he fights his body’s instinct to come. He pushes down with his hips to still you. “I need a minute, sweet girl. Shit - you feel too good.”

Your soft giggle at his confession causes your pussy to flex tighter around him. A shiver runs up his spine, “Baby, please don’t. Just stay still, please.”

He pulls himself away from your neck, his hips flexing forward. He watches your eyes widen as his piercing presses right where it’s meant to. You gasp and clench his hips with your thighs. He smirks, now flooded with desire and determination to fuck you until neither of you can walk. 

“Ready?” He says, his voice deep.

“I think - Joel, fuck - I might…” 

His animalistic side kicks in, he pulls out to the tip and then slams back in, swivelling his hips so his piercing stimulates your clit, which he’s sure still must be sensitive from earlier, before pulling back and repeating. 

“Think you might what?” He demands, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he fucks you.

“I’m gonna - gonna come.” You moan between thrusts.

“So fuckin’ needy. Aren’t you?” You met each of his thrusts with a flick of your hips. Even with the condom, you feel better than he could have ever imagined. All the things he wants to do to you run through his mind; he wants to take you from behind, or watch your tits bounce as you ride him, he pictures you strapped to the spanking bench in his room at the club. But right now he just wants to worship every inch of you. He wants to show you how you should be treated and loved. 

The words are on the tip of his tongue. I love you. 

He shifts his weight, one arm hooking under your leg so he can take you deeper. “Sweet girl, I want to feel you come on my cock.” 

“Fuckfuck don’t stop.” He peppers your jawline with kisses. 

“Kiss me,” he whispers. He tilts his head, parting his lips for your warm tongue. Joel starts fucking you faster. He breaks the kiss, “Come for me, baby girl.” 

“Are we going to be done if I do?” You ask. 

“No, baby.” He huffed a laugh, his hand pushing the hair away that’s started to stick to your forehead. “Never. I’m never going to be done with you.” 

“Joel - oh my god.” He feels you getting tighter and tries to distract his thoughts. He’s not ready to be done, but he’s not young anymore so he can’t risk finishing quite yet. “Your - your piercing.”

“Let go,” he says into your lips. He feels it then, that infinitesimal tightening of your pussy around his length before it begins to flutter. Your whine fills his head. He watches the pleasure fill your face, he swears he can see the clouds that form around your vision as you look deep into his eyes and succumb to your high. Your soft body quivers beautifully underneath him, “That’s my girl.”

The primal need to fuck you hard into his mattress simmers his skin. Not yet, not this time. She’s too perfect right now. 

“Tell me how it feels, sweet girl.”

Between pants you moan out, “So good, Joel.”

Your body begins to slow beneath him as your orgasm crests and he gives himself a mental pep talk to hold on just a bit longer. His cock is achy with the need to come, and it’s going to be slightly tortuous to stop, but he wants to take you at least one more time before you both fall into what is sure to be an exhausted sleep. 

His lips come to your shoulder. “I love fucking you. Your pussy was made for me.”

Your nails scrape at his back. “It’s t-too much. Fuck. Sorry…sorry.”

Joel stills his hips, releasing your leg and pushing his weight off of you, but doesn’t pull away. Your eyes are clenched tight, “Look at me, sweet girl.”

Your eyes pop open, pupils blown in pleasure and love. There’s no denying it now, he knows you feel the same. “Don’t be sorry.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, “But you’re not, you didn’t yet.”

“If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“You didn’t get to come yet,” you whisper.

“I don’t want to yet. I’m going to let you catch your breath and then you’re going to climb onto my lap and really learn what that piercing can do.” He winks and then gives you a small smile before slipping out of you. He rolls onto the mattress beside you, removing the condom and dropping it into the waste bin beside the bed. 

He hears you hiss, panic clogs his throat as he whips back towards you. “What’s wrong?”

You nod towards his almost impossibly hard cock. “That looks painful.”

“I’m ok, sweet girl.” He pulls you in, melting at the way your body molds so perfectly to his. He kisses your forehead, “You’re incredible.”

“You too.” You nuzzle deeper into him, your warm breath hitting his chest and your leg wrapping around his. 

There’s a few minutes of comfortable silence before you speak, “Hey Joel?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I think we should ditch the condom.” He pulls back as you look up at him, “You have a vasectomy. I have an IUD. We had recent test results as per the club's rules.”

Joel swallows. Not wearing a condom, even though he had his vasectomy over a decade ago, has never been an option. Another rule of JMKink is that you have to be wearing a condom during all penetrative activities; even if the person you’re fucking is your husband or wife. It hits Joel then that the only person he’s felt that intimately before is Tiffany. 

“Are you sure? I know the chances of getting pregnant are very slim, but you got into law school today, I don’t want to risk anything.”

“I’m sure,” you hum. “I’m also sure that you should put that cowboy hat back on for the next round.”

[fallstaticexit]

Ahhh it's been 65 years, and I feel kinda crazy that I've had this sitting in my drafts for like 2 months. Assuming most readers of Missing Moments are also The Art of Being Seen readers- there's some hefty lore here that will come into play later.

prev/ next

Olive: Time to move on, right Kia?

[phone pings]

Nancy: Hello darling. Do you have a moment to talk?

Olive: Who’s this?

Olive: I don’t recall saying yes.

Nancy: [sighs] It feels so good to hear your voice again.

Olive: I only answered to tell you to block me.

Nancy: I would never.

Olive: Even though I asked?

Nancy: Well. I am incredibly selfish.

Olive: Why did you call me?

Nancy: I would like to see you, Olivia. Please.

Olive: I’m not for sale, sorry.

Nancy: I know. I wouldn’t want to meet on those terms again. If I could do it all over, I would have asked you to have dinner with me when I met you. I would have courted you properly, Olivia.

Olive: [scoffs] You would have gone to a strip club and asked a stripper to have dinner with you? Seriously? When would we have ever met under any other circumstance? It’s been made very clear to me how different we are. The only way this would have happened was if it were a fairy tale.

Nancy: What matters is, I have met you. I’ve experienced you and I can’t go back. My husband- my ex husband- he signed the petition for our divorce. I came out to him- officially. It’s over.

Olive: [stunned] That’s- that’s great. I am so happy for you-

Nancy: I’m leaving all of it. I’m starting over. All I want is you, if you’ll have me.

Olive: [sighs]

Nancy: Let’s just have one dinner and after we’ve talk, then you can decide. There’s so much I want to say, but I want to look you in the eyes as I say it.

Olive: One dinner?

Nancy: One dinner.

Nancy: May I see you tonight? I’ll send my driver and I’ll cook for you at my place. Anything you like.

Olive: Tonight is fine.. sure.

Nancy: [sighs happily] It’ll be hard not to kiss you the moment I see you-

Olive: Not too much, lover girl. It’s one dinner and I’m still very annoyed with you about all this, ok?

Nancy: Yes, my love. I’ll see you tonight.

Olive: And don’t look at me like that. It’s just dinner and a conversation, ok? I am not going to sleep with her ok?

Malcolm: Well. Now I see why my mother was so willing to ruin an entire empire over you. Those mugshots did you no justice.

Olive: What is this? Where’s Nancy?

Malcolm: I noticed our driver was heading this way, I figured I’d tag along. Sight see. Get in. Let’s chat.

Malcolm: I wonder if this feels like dejavu to my mother. She makes yet another thoughtless mistake and someone comes along to make it all go away. She has a nasty habit of that, you know.

Olive: Listen. I’m not feeling whatever family drama you all have going on. I don’t want to talk to you. I want to talk to Nancy.

Malcolm: I was raised by a narcissistic liar and a spineless coward. If I let this company fall apart, then wouldn’t it all had been for nothing?

Olive: [scoffs] So you want pity? I’m suppose to pity you? Give me a break.

Malcolm: Not pity, no. If anything, I pity you.

Olive: Is that right?

Malcolm: When it comes to success, you pale in comparison to your half siblings. You’ve financially crippled your parents in legal fees since your arrest and all you have to show for it is by shaking ass in a low end strip club in the Spice District. That’s right, I know alot about you Olivia Briar.

Malcolm: I know about that quaint little family of yours down in the country. I know about your niece’s struggling restaurant and her undocumented partner. Funny, he’s able to acquire loans under a fake name but there’s no records of a Noa Briar anywhere. I wonder what else your family is hiding.

Olive: [shaken] What is this about? Are you threatening me? What the fuck do you want?

Malcolm: I’m here to help you, not hurt you. One of the greatest lessons I’ve ever learned was the power of the dollar. I can make a lot of your problems go away with one deposit if you do just one thing.

Olive: [softly] ....What?

Malcolm: We’re going to turn around and park in front of your building. You’re going to go upstairs, pack up your things and then, you’re going to go back home to sweet old Henford. You’ll pay your parents back with the money you’ll receive from this arrangement and you’ll help your niece and nephew. All your problems - poof- gone.

Malcolm: All you have to do is walk away, and stay away. You see, my mother has a nasty debt to this family she still needs to pay. Don’t make it your burden.

[chris-hallelujah]

Have You Ever Tried This One? | m.s.

Summary: The triplets attend singer!reader's concert and Matt gets catches her eye from the crowd.

Warnings: insinuating sexual acts, talks of sex positions

Word Count: 640 words

My Master List

Join my tag list : @matthewsroses

Divider by: @anitalenia

A/N: This is inspired by this post by @delilahsturniolo . Thank you for letting me use your work as inspiration! Also thank you to @chestersturniolo for helping me find her piece. I do not give consent for my work to be reposted, rewritten, or shared on this platform or any other.

<3 - Billie

The lights in the arena darkened around the group standing at the barricade. Matt, Nick, Chris, and Chris' girlfriend cheered along with everyone else as you appeared in a spotlight on the stage. "Boston! It's so good to see you!" you exclaimed into the microphone causing the crowd to roar. Matt practically had hearts for eyes as you sauntered around the stage in small, sparkly outfits. Sure, he had heard your music and seen you in photos before, but there was something different about seeing you in front of him. Chris and Nick quickly took notice of Matt's in awe state and chuckled.

After a few numbers you had reached the interactive section of your concert. Oftentimes you chose a person in the crowd who was dancing the most or seemed to be having the best time. It was never actually based on your physical attraction to someone, until this time. You had been eyeing the three identical boys in the front row. One specifically caught your eye. You'd seen these boys online before and while you didn't know much about them, you knew which one you wanted. He seemed a bit more quiet than the other two and was staring at you like you were glowing. "Girls, girls, come here!" you spoke into the mic, gesturing for two of your dancers to come over. "Do you see that guy right there? Yes, the triplet but that one, with the pink t shirt," you pointed in Matt's direction. He froze as the camera panned to him for the crowd to see on the big screen. Everyone went wild causing Nick and Chris to bust out laughing. The lights throughout the arena flashed red and blue as a siren sound played throughout the stadium. You knelt down in front of him, "hey there, what's your name?" You cooed into the microphone, batting your eyelashes.

"M-Matthew!" he stammered nervously as Nick filmed the interaction.

"Oh Matthew, I'm afraid you're under arrest. You are just way too hot!" You giggled into the microphone, "Will you take these sweetie?" The security guard took the fuzzy pink handcuffs from your hand and held them over the barricade for Matt to grab. His blush was iminent as he took them with a smile and a nod. You stood back up, winking at him. "There are so many thoughts running through my head, Matthew. Dirty, dirty - oh! my clothes are falling off for you, Matthew!" You laughed stepping out of your dress revealing a shiny pink body suit. The intro of the song began and you danced and sang with your crew. "Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit. God bless your dad's genetics," You sang, gesturing to the triplets with a giggle. Every once in a while throughout the song you'd shoot Matt a look or a wink. "You make me wanna make you fall in love. Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah. Wanna try out some freaky positions? Hey Matthew, have you ever tried this one?" You sat on your knees with one arm in the air doing a lasso motion to represent cowgirl. Matt about fell over and Chris was a laughing mess next to him. His brothers could not believe what they were witnessing.

That song ended and the show continued. A few songs later, the triplets and Chris' girlfriend were approached by someone from your team. "Matt?" Your manager asked, "You've all been requested backstage after the show." She smiled handing them all passes and getting back to work.

"No way!" Chris' girlfriend jumped up and down.

"Dude, your charm got us connections!" Nick laughed patting Matt on the shoulder. Matt stood staring at the backstage passes in awe. He couldn't believe that you had noticed him in the first place but also to invite him backstage??

[prettypinkeel]

I made some icons for my megoplita au, so here's some explanation of the relationship between the characters in this AU + icons without text in the end. (this is inspired by other tf universes and various shows, etc., it's not tied to any canon)

Relationship chart:

1)Megoplita family

Optimus and Elita are married here. The two were dating since high school and their relationship only grew stronger through years, eventually leading to their marriage.

Both OP&Elita are having feelings/dating for D-16 (and this is mutual).

Rodimus is a distant family member from OP's side but he visits his family a lot, giving that "cool uncle" energy towards Bee.

Arcee and Roddy are besties, and based on comics, I made her adopted by Ultra Magnus, with Magnus mentoring Arcee.

2) Skystar/Jetstar family

Starscream and Jetfire were also high school sweethearts but they were more "friends to lovers" troupe. Both Star and Jet wanting to become researchers in the future. Eventually, they achived their dreams ⭐.

One day Twitch and Spitfire appeared in their lives, the twins were the important life for the two. Despite being a young parents, they always there for each other.

But after one accident, Jetfire was declared missing/dead and that had a big impact on Starscream, so he had to abandon his dreams and focus on raising Twitch and Spitfire, who are still very young.

3)Megastar family

Somehow, D-16 appears in Starscream's life when he needed someone the most. Their relationship were nice at first, D-16 helped with raising Twitch and Spitfire.

Spitfire didn't really like her new dad, so she still clang to Starscream more. Meanwhile Twitch grew really close to D-16, her friendly personality is irresistible!

But D-16 and Starscream relationship doesn't last long. I see them dealing with their own problems separately, they struggle with something «simple» like just sit down and talk, since none of them wants to bother the other. One is growing distant due to trauma of his soulmate leaving him all alone in this world, the other has no idea how to fix this, in a fit of frustration it all ends in break up. They still think of each other as the reason of it.

4) Colleagues:

I think 13 Primes are alive here, and they trust Sentinel very much to deal with the company.

Elita-One is mostly closed with D-16 since they work together, with Elita being his boss. There are some admiration D-16 feels towards Elita which grows into deeper feelings.

Starscream and Elita dislike Sentinel due to his smug personality. Sentinel makes it his personal goal to mess with Starscream throughout the day, and Elita just gets very protective over D-16.

Sentinel and Arachnid are dating here, but they're free to explore the other options. Airachnid listens to him gossiping about the others or just rambling his thoughts to her, both don't really mind it. They're just that duo who tell each other "exaaaaaactly" lol.

I also like the idea of Shockwave having that tiny crush on Elita but he would never admit it, even though it is very obvious. They're co workers but work in different department.

Airachnid and Elita rarely talk to each other unless it's about business, there's something in Elita that makes Airachnid to take interest in her. Silently staring at Elita from the corner of the room as definition of love language, aaaaaaa :p

[aceyalonso]

F1 drivers if they were on the r/AITAH subreddit

drivers : oscar piastri, lando norris, charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, max verstappen, george russell, franco colapinto

warnings/notes : jos verstappen 🤮

a/n : i know i said i was on hiatus but c'mon this was such a fun idea

main masterlist | taglist form

So this might sound weird, but here goes. My girlfriend and I (both 23) love visiting new places, and she’s a big animal lover. She found this adorable cat café nearby and has been talking about going for weeks. I wasn’t as excited but figured it’d be fun to surprise her, so I booked us a spot and thought I’d try to make it extra special.

Here’s the thing: I wanted to be "that guy" who shows up with a bag of cat treats so all the cats would flock to us. It sounds ridiculous, but my goal was to make her day. When we got there, I pulled out the treats and instantly had a few cats’ attention. My girlfriend laughed, but within a few minutes, an employee came over, looking annoyed, and told me I couldn't give the cats treats from outside.

Apparently, they have specific diets or something, and I was "interfering." I apologized, put the treats away, and thought that was the end of it. But soon after, another employee came up, saying we were being "disruptive" because all the cats were lingering around us, and they even hinted we might need to leave if it didn’t stop. I hadn’t meant to cause a scene and told them it wasn’t a big deal—we’d stop and just hang out like everyone else. But by this point, my girlfriend was pretty embarrassed, and it killed the vibe of our day.

We left a bit earlier than planned, and now my girlfriend thinks it was a bit of a jerk move, even though she appreciated the effort. I didn’t mean to upset anyone or break the rules, just thought it’d be fun to make the cats a bit more social. But now I’m wondering if I messed up by not sticking to the café’s way of doing things.

So, AITAH?

Edit: I’ve learned my lesson. I will never underestimate the dietary regulations of a cat café ever again.

So, I (24M) have this bad habit of forgetting what’s in my fridge. A while ago, I bought some chicken, but I totally forgot about it, and it just sat there for months. I was cleaning out my fridge the other day and found the chicken at the back, and it still looked fine to me—didn’t smell bad, didn’t look weird—so I thought, "Why not? It’s still good."

I cooked it up, had a nice meal, and didn’t think much of it. But then, later that night, I told my mom about it (thinking she'd just laugh), and she completely freaked out. She went on this whole rant about food safety, salmonella, and how I could’ve poisoned myself. I was just like, "It tasted fine, mom, calm down."

She kept texting me all night asking if I felt okay, if I was getting any stomach pains, and even called a few of my friends to check in on me. Honestly, I’m fine—nothing happened, and I feel perfectly normal.

But now she’s upset with me, saying I’m being careless and that I should never eat food that old, even if it seems fine. I just didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. I mean, people eat leftovers all the time, right? It wasn’t even that old.

So, AITAH for eating chicken that’s been in my fridge for 9 months and making my mom worry unnecessarily?

Edit: Just to clarify, I didn’t intentionally keep it for 9 months. I honestly just forgot about it in the back of the fridge. And no, I’m not sick. Everything’s fine. I promise I won’t be eating anything old again anytime soon!

I (27M) have a dog, Leo, who’s basically my best friend. He’s super friendly and well-behaved, and honestly, I just feel better when he’s around. I bring him everywhere I go – to cafes, parks, and friend gatherings. You name it, Leo’s there. Most people are fine with it because he’s adorable and loves everyone.

Recently, though, my friends have started making comments about it. Last weekend, we met up at this small, cozy café for brunch, and I brought Leo along. He just curled up next to my chair and didn’t bother anyone. But my friend Paul pulled me aside afterward and said it was kind of annoying that I kept bringing Leo without asking. He said not everyone wants a dog around all the time, and it’s “getting old.”

I don’t understand where this is coming from, especially since Leo’s never caused any problems. I figured since no one had said anything before, they were fine with it. Plus, I’m always careful to keep him out of people’s way, and he’s honestly better behaved than most dogs I know. I feel like they’re making a big deal out of nothing, but now I’m wondering if maybe I should have checked with everyone first.

So, AITAH for always bringing my dog? Should I have asked before assuming everyone was okay with it?

Edit: Just for context, Leo’s a small dog – not the type to jump on people or bark a lot. He just sits quietly and naps most of the time. Also, I’ve always cleaned up after him when necessary, so he hasn’t left any “souvenirs” for anyone to deal with.

So, I (39M) have this friend, Nico (also 39M), and we’ve been friends since we were kids. We’re both super competitive by nature, and we tend to push each other a lot. Whether it’s video games, sports, or even something like mini-golf, everything somehow turns into a competition between us. It’s mostly just for fun… until recently.

A few weeks ago, we were at a friend’s birthday party, and they had one of those racing setups in the living room. Of course, Nico and I immediately challenged each other, and we both got really into it. I mean, I might’ve been trash-talking a bit (okay, maybe a lot), but we were both laughing, so I didn’t think it was a big deal.

Well, I ended up beating him by a fraction of a second, and I might’ve celebrated a bit too enthusiastically—think victory lap around the living room, calling him out in front of everyone, the whole deal. After that, Nico got pretty quiet and didn’t talk to me much for the rest of the night. Later, a mutual friend told me that Nico felt like I was “rubbing it in,” and it embarrassed him.

Now I feel bad. I honestly thought we were just having fun and didn’t realize he’d take it so personally. I tried to apologize, but he just brushed it off and hasn’t really been himself around me since.

So… AITAH for taking things a bit too far with my friend, or was it all just part of the usual friendly rivalry?

Edit: We’ve always had this kind of back-and-forth, so I’m not sure why this time it got to him. Just thought I’d get some outside perspective before I bring it up with him again.

Okay, I know this sounds insane, but hear me out. I (30M) love making pancakes, and I’m pretty proud of my recipe. It’s become sort of a tradition to make them for my family when I visit my parents. They’re always really nice about it and say they love them, but... I’m starting to think they’ve just been too polite.

A few weeks ago, I was at my parents’ house and decided to whip up a big batch of pancakes for breakfast. My mom and dad both had seconds, and I thought it was a win. But later that night, my mom started having really bad stomach pains. We took her to the hospital, and she ended up needing surgery for appendicitis. It was a scary experience, but thankfully, she’s okay now.

Here’s where it gets weirder. Just a few days after my mom came home from the hospital, my dad started having the same symptoms. At first, we joked that it was sympathy pains, but he ended up in the ER too, with the exact same issue—appendicitis.

Now my whole family is convinced it was my pancakes. I know logically that my cooking can’t cause appendicitis, but I can’t help but feel responsible because they both got sick right after eating my breakfast. My parents keep joking that they’re never eating my pancakes again, and my siblings have been giving me a hard time about it, saying I’m banned from the kitchen.

So, AITAH for giving both my parents appendicitis with my cooking, or am I just an unlucky chef?

Edit: Just to clarify, I don’t actually think I gave them appendicitis, but the timing is very suspicious, and now my parents are scared of my pancakes. I might need a new family recipe...

So, I (27M) have two cats (Jimmy & Sassy), and they’re pretty much my babies. They’re super affectionate with me but can be a bit picky about who they like. My dad (52M), on the other hand, isn’t exactly a "cat person." He’s more of the “why do you have pets that don’t do anything useful?” type, but he still visits often and tolerates them because he knows they’re important to me.

The other day, my dad came over, and as usual, my cats were lounging on the couch. He decided to sit down and give them a little nudge to move over, but instead of just shuffling away, one of my cats (Jimmy) swiped at his face. It wasn’t a deep scratch, but it was enough to leave a red mark and get my dad pretty annoyed. I couldn’t help but laugh a bit because he was acting all grumpy about it, muttering something about "those spoiled cats."

He got even more annoyed when he saw me laughing and said I should discipline my cats better and not let them scratch people. I tried explaining that cats are territorial and react like that when they’re suddenly pushed, especially by someone they’re not used to. I offered him a band-aid, but he refused and ended up leaving earlier than planned.

Now my mom is telling me I should’ve been more sympathetic and that I should’ve scolded my cat instead of laughing. But honestly, I feel like it was just a normal cat reaction, and my dad knows how they can be. So now I’m wondering, AITAH for laughing when my cat scratched my dad’s face instead of taking it more seriously?

Edit: Just to clarify, my cats don’t usually attack people. They’re very cuddly with me and my friends, but my dad’s not around them enough for them to be comfortable. I’ll definitely make sure he approaches them differently next time... if he ever wants to come back!

So, this might sound a bit weird, but hear me out. I (26M) work at this company, and my boss, "Toto" (52M), and I have a really good relationship. We get along great, share a lot of common interests, and he’s been a bit of a mentor to me. We hang out outside of work sometimes, and every now and then, I’ll stay over at his place after we have dinner or watch a game, just because it’s more convenient.

Recently, my friends found out about this and started making fun of me, calling it “sleepovers” with my boss. I laughed it off at first, but they’ve started saying it’s kind of weird and unprofessional to be that close with your boss. They’re acting like I’m trying to suck up or get some kind of special treatment, but that’s honestly not the case. I just enjoy his company, and we have a good time hanging out.

The thing is, I never really mentioned it to my friends before because it just didn’t seem like a big deal. I figured if I told them, they’d blow it out of proportion (which is exactly what’s happening now). But now they’re saying it’s odd that I didn’t bring it up sooner and that it’s kind of strange to be having “sleepovers” with someone who’s technically in charge of me at work.

So, AITAH for not telling my friends that I sometimes crash at my boss’s place, or are they just overreacting?

Edit: For context, it’s not like I’m staying there every weekend or anything. It’s maybe once a month if we’re having a late night and it’s easier than going all the way back to my place. Plus, he’s got a massive guest room, so it’s not like I’m sleeping on the couch or something. It’s just a practical arrangement

Okay, so I (21M) have a bit of a problem, and I’m honestly not sure if it’s even a problem or just something I can’t control. I’ve noticed lately that whenever I’m doing interviews or talking to reporters, I end up coming off as flirting with them, even though I’m not trying to at all.

I’m naturally a friendly person, and I like to joke around and be engaging. But I’ve had a few reporters (and even some photographers) tell me after interviews that I’ve been “charming” or “too smooth” with them. Some of them even hinted that I was “leading them on.” The thing is, I don’t even notice it happening. I just talk to them like I would anyone else, but apparently, I’m making it seem like I’m flirting—without even trying!

One reporter even gave me her number after an interview, and when I asked if she was just being friendly, she said, “You were a little more than friendly.” I was totally confused because I thought we were just having a good conversation about racing. Now I’m worried that I’m giving the wrong impression to people without meaning to, and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or make things uncomfortable.

So, AITAH for accidentally flirting with reporters and leading them on when I really don’t mean to? Should I tone down my "natural charm"?

Edit: Just to clarify, I’m not trying to flirt with anyone, reporter or not. I’m just being myself, but it seems like it’s coming off differently than I intended. It’s a bit awkward now, and I’m wondering if I should change how I interact in interviews.

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[chelseeebe]

hot n’ heavy

18+. mdni. smut. breeding kink if you squint! exhusband!eddie

part two to yours, forever! i truly believe they would have three sons and one little girl that comes after r’s second divorce🤭 the p3 to this is my favourite however, i have some pornstar!eddie is reallyyyy want to get out before it’s posted hehe. pls ignore any mistakes i am so tired

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

eddie hadn’t ever lied about you still being the only woman in his life, he’d dated around after the divorce but had never, ever found anyone that came close to you. 

he does suppose that you were together for fourteen years. he feels like at that point, you were stuck together for life. 

and yet, he can’t fucking wait. 

sat on one of wayne’s loungers just waiting for you to walk through that gate and spot her. 

he’d sorta been seeing ashley for the past couple months or so, mostly just hooking up during those dry spells where you were content with your marriage. 

wayne’s annual barbecue was coming up and so he’d had the bright idea to ask her along, truthfully just to get you talking to him again. 

nice girl, pretty too but he knew you’d be furious. 

the kids bounce through the yard first, barely saying hi to eddie first before clambering on top of wayne as they usually did. 

you shuffle through next, the far-too-short dress sitting just around your thighs, a blatant attempt at garnering his attention. though you were no match for him, eddie had the petty game nailed down since 1998. from the moment you’d handed him those divorce papers, he’d taken it upon himself to piss you off as much as humanly possible. 

you haven’t realised yet, made obvious by the wide smile on your face. giving half-assed hugs to the various members of his family that sprawled around the garden, waiting for him last. 

but you don’t hug him, standing in front of the lounge chair with a frown, looking his outfit up and down. “i didn’t realise you were coming,” you quip. 

fucking lie. 

your dress wouldn’t have been half as revealing if you’d actually thought he wasn’t going to be here. 

eddie scoffs, sitting up in his chair, “why wouldn’t i be?” cocking his head to the side, waiting for the perfect moment to introduce ashley.  

“oh i don’t know, thought you’d be too busy pretending you can play guitar,” shrugging sweetly, but not backing off. 

his eyes narrow, biting his tongue to unleash the true beast, “have you met ashley?” gesturing towards the young blonde with a side smirk from hell, “she’s been so excited to meet the kids!”

your brows furrow, lip curling in disgust. he loves even more that you don’t try to hide it, practically retching in front of her face.  

sharp eyes flicker over to her, “nice to meet you.. ashley,” but your hand doesn’t extend for her to shake, instead you flounce off without waiting for her reply. 

“dave not here?” eddie jeers, holding the cool bottle of beer just before his snarling lips. 

“he’s at work,” you snap back, “you know what that is?” snarky in all your glory, sitting on the furthest, most opposite chair you could find. 

that’s alright, he can almost see right up your dress from here, purposely no doubt. 

wayne must have found that hilarious, bursting into a maniacal laughter, never on the side of his own flesh and blood. 

pfft. 

whatever. 

it wouldn’t be long before your dress was bunched up against your hips and-

“-eddie?” ashley barks from beside, snapping him out of maladaptive wet daydream, “can you show me the bathroom?” batting her eyelashes. 

holy fuck. the regret of ever inviting her had began to seep in, because in actuality, it had done absolutely nothing worthwhile in making you jealous. 

he nods, concealing the annoyance on his face by clearing his throat, guiding the poor girl past his relatives judging eyes and into the house. 

she grabs ahold of his hand, trying to pull him into the bathroom alongside of her. blinking rapidly when he stays put. 

“my kids are here,” he whispers, yanking his hand back, “i really can’t,” he could, he had a hundred times. just not with her. 

she pouts, dropping her shoulders in a huff, quickly pulling the door closed as eddie rushes off outside again. he couldn’t have you thinking he was screwing around with her now.

your eyes follow him from the door to his seat, wayne leaning over to whisper not-so-quietly about him.

he can read something along the lines of midlife crisis, wayne’s bellowing laugh after pretty much solidifies that theory. eddie’d be much more angry if he didn’t find it so endearing, wayne loved you more than eddie did, he was certain of that. 

wayne pats your shoulder before sending a sharp glance at eddie, a warning sign he’d seen, and ignored, many a times. 

-

an hour of meaningless banter and fake affection later, eddie finds his opportunity. 

you had disappeared off under the guise of helping in the kitchen, but he knows it’s an invite of sorts. you weren’t as nonchalant as you thought you were, sliding your gaze over his and then immediately at the open door.

a blind man could’ve picked up on that for christ sake.

he saunters off through the door, no doubt you were in there messing about with the salads or doing the dishes like you normally did. the garden is too loud for anyone to realise anyway, he figures he’s got a good fifteen minutes before anyone questions where you’ve both gone. 

you glance up at him walking through the door but choose not to speak, plating up the anaemic looking potato salad his aunt had made. 

“you not speaking to me today?” standing on the opposite side of the island, picking at the bowl of chips. 

“i have nothing to say to you,” turning up your nose to continue dumping the grey slop into a bowl. 

“that’s a lie,” eddie chuckles, leaning over the marbled counter, “i know you have loads of things you want to say to me today.”

you look up briefly, staring daggers into his soul, “why don’t you go back outside with your little girlfriend and leave me alone?”

eddie sighs rather sarcastically, “one, not my girlfriend and two, i’d rather be in here with you,” walking his fingers over the counter towards you. 

you scoff, but he knows you’re not serious because if you were, you’d have thrown the spoon at his head and laughed as it got tangled in his curls. 

“c’mon,” he beckons, nodding towards the stairs. 

when wayne had announced that he’d be selling the trailer in favour of a house, eddie think he physically jumped for joy. 

living with wayne and a pregnant you in that tiny metal box had began to drive him utterly insane, especially once wayne had retired and he had an approximate five minute window to have sex every day. 

you glance out of the window, making sure that no one would follow you up the stairs, before sighing and begrudgingly trailing behind him. 

“don’t worry, they won’t even notice,” slipping into the box room and shutting the door as discreetly as possible. 

to be honest, you’d lived in this room just as long as he had, it was yours as much as it was his. some of your posters still stay stuck to the walls, pictures of the two of you that you’d framed still linger. 

eddie waits with baited breath for you to start, prepared for the inevitable rant that was just bubbling to fall out of your lips. 

you stand poised at the other side for he room, hands on hips, ready to scold, “you’re seriously pathetic if you think bringing some kid would make me jealous,” clicking your tongue against your teeth, eyes flicking up and down his casual stature. 

there it is. 

the tirade of insults he’s been waiting for all night. 

“i fucking knew that’d work,” guffawing loudly, “you’re so angry and i love it,” swigging his beer with far too much confidence. 

“i’m not angry, i’m disgusted. there’s a difference,” crossing your arms firmly over your chest. 

“oh please,” rolling his eyes, “you’re married for fuck sake,” placing the bottle on his old dresser, the fun was just about to begin. 

“yeah. i am,” you nod, the deep furrow of your brow only exciting him further, “to someone my own age, not some fucking teenager.”

“she’s twenty three, actually,” in such a matter-of-fact tone that it makes you seethe, launching forward to twist his collar between your fingers. 

“you disgust me,” eyes like slits and a snarl that some rottweilers would be jealous of. 

“isn’t it a bit late for you to start lying like this?” a heavy hand meets your back, pressing your body into his as your heartbeats collide. 

“fuck you,” moving forward to connect your lips the same time he does, an angry battle that consists of guttural growls and an animalistic need to dominate the kiss. 

“just ask me next time sweets,” grabby with his hands as they get comfy on your hips, performing a waltz around the tiny bedroom floor to lie your body sideward on the edge of the bed, legs wrapping tight around his back. 

“everyone’s here,” you breathe, glancing warily towards the window, “what if they hear?”

“pssht, not like we’ve never done this before,” 

this bedroom had once witnessed the most explicit things all the while wayne was downstairs and hopefully oblivious. 

eddie’s hand glides over your thigh and under your dress, lifting higher until it’s bunched up at your hips, just as he’d pictured. 

“wear these for me?” he remarks, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your deliberately worn lacy panties.

“mhm,” lifting your hips as they come down, hanging off of your ankle. 

he breaks apart for what feels like too long, rushing to get his belt unbuckled and his jeans down, before hoisting your calves onto his shoulder, your knees damn near touching your ears as he comes down on top. 

“jesus christ eds, i’m not twenty five anymore,” gripping onto his forearm for leverage. 

eddie scoffs, running the leaking head of his cock from your clit to your hole, delighted with the way you shiver and whine. 

he sighs as his cock slides in, taking one last glance at the window, he wouldn’t last long anyway, not in this position. 

“fuucking hell,” you breathe, tightening your grip on his quivering arms, letting your eyes fall shut. 

he’s messy, sloppy in the way his hips move, pressed flat against your glistening cunt. if this didn’t get you pregnant, he gives up. 

“i like it when you’re jealous,” he pants, brushing the stray strands of hair from your sticky forehead to get a good glimpse of your fluttering eyes. 

your nails dig further into his skin, it’d probably hurt if he weren’t balls deep inside of you, “fuck off,” your insults punctuated by the slick sounds of your body’s meeting. 

he moves slow, grunting each time his tip nudges against your sweet spot. fuck. the downright pornographic noises of your pussy wrapped him makes him animalistic with need. 

schlickschlickschlick in time with the old mattress and his balls slapping against your ass. 

your hands move up above your head, helplessly grabbing at the blanket, fingers untwining in the fabric. 

“ohmygod yes,” head thrown back against the mattress, seemingly no longer bothered about the family gathering just outside. 

despite being an incoherent babbling mess, your eyes meet his, “don’t.. ever bring her here again,” your whines becoming too loud to hear your words clearly. 

eddie slaps his palm over your drooling mouth, but he nods, more than happy to comply if it meant he could fuck you like this every time. 

“only did it.. to make you jealous,” losing his momentum, the churning in his stomach becoming too much to carry on. 

you’re too fucked out to reply, whimpering into his palm, the bedsheets twisted between your fingertips. if no one had heard you, it would be nothing short of a miracle, your gasps only partly muffled by his hand. 

you clench around his cock, calves trembling upon his skin while your hips move on their own, cumming around his cock, his sweaty palm working overtime to silence your loud mouth. 

eddie doesn’t last much longer, biting down onto his lower lip so he doesn’t alert the whole house to your precarious position. 

he’s shaking, collapsing on top of you as his seed paints your walls, saying a silent prayer that this time is the time. 

“oh.. fuck,” he heaves, sloppily pumping his hips into your leaking cunt before pulling out completely, well aware that you had ran over the fifteen minute allotted time slot he had given you. 

wayne would have noticed a whole ten minutes ago, surely waiting to make his snarky comments. 

he lets go of your mouth, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before getting up and as a gentleman does, slides your panties back up and your skirt down. 

it filled eddie with far too much satisfaction to know you’d have to walk downstairs with a skewed walk and a pussy full of his cum, everybody else none the wiser. 

“don’t walk down together,” you bite, running frantic fingers through your unkempt hair, attempting to clean the smudged outline of your lipstick. 

“nobody’s gonna care,” re-buttoning his jeans as he takes a smug sip of warm beer. 

you spin on your heel, shooting daggers at his grinning eyes, “your girlfriend might,” and with that you’re gone, slipping out of the door in a cloud of tangled hair and creased fabric. 

god, he loves you. 

far more than should be allowed for two people who are divorced. 

it was wise for you to go down first, you were a much better liar than eddie ever was. 

he makes a slow walk downstairs, his belt clinking rather conspicuously as he pulls it tight. 

wayne stands in the shadows at the bottom, waiting until he’s close to make him piss his pants before speaking, “i don’t even wanna know,” shaking his head at his petulant nephew, “don’t ever leave me with that girl again,” a warning, but his eyes are soft, almost cracking as the pieces click into place in his brain. 

“i wasn’t.. i didn’t do anything,” but his twitching lips give him away, “and i’m gonna take her home, don’t worry,” trying to shuffle past wayne unscathed. 

his uncle reaches out, smearing his thumb across eddie’s chin, “you left your fuckin’ lipstick on, dumbass,” only half-disappointed in his nephew, because eddie, and everybody out in that garden knows wayne’d be the first person to celebrate the two of you getting back together. 

he, rather unsuccessfully, suppresses his grin, walking into the kitchen like he was the luckiest man alive. 

you stand at the counter, back to him, poking holes into juice boxes, your hair a sudden nest and your dress sitting higher than it had before. anyone would think you’d been doing something you shouldn’t.

he slides up right behind you, “i’m gonna go take her home.. are you staying?” hand threatening to creep under your dress again. 

“yeah, we’ll be here,” you confirm without ever looking up. 

“i’ll come back then,” he didn’t want to be here without you, you’d done these things as a pair for long that it felt disrespectful to ever entertain the idea of doing it alone. 

as he turns, he meets wayne’s eye who had either been stood watching the entire time or had only seen his hand grab your ass, either way it wasn’t great. 

his uncle’s eyes say enough, silent in both their judgement and approval. 

eddie shrugs, walking back into the garden with a terribly hidden smirk and a sickening excitement to get back and see you again.  

[honey-tongued-devil]

Arcane preference reacting to a s/o with a mental health issues (eating)

My disclaimer, as someone with this issue, I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted. I’ve actually been thinking about it for a while, but I was a bit cowardly about doing it, so I’m taking the opportunity now. I don’t want to go out of character, so I’m sorry if some characters come across as harsher than others. Unfortunately, I know I should write the name of the illness, but if I post it that way, Tumblr will take it down.

Jayce:

- He’s academically intelligent, but it takes him far too long to notice that something’s wrong. But you can’t blame him, it’s something so far removed from him that he couldn’t have understood it sooner.

- When he does realize, his first reaction is panic.

- Jayce can’t feel like just a blade of grass; he feels emotions deeply, taking on any blame, especially if something happens to the people he loves. His first thought is that he did something to make you feel that way, inadequate.

- But once the panic phase ends, the responsibility phase begins.

- He does the grocery shopping, he cooks, and his workouts become more regular, where he has you climb onto his back while doing push-ups or holds you in his arms during other exercises.

- He doesn’t know why you do it, but the quickest way to show you that your weight isn’t a problem is by showing you how easily he lifts you.

- And maybe, if you feel up to it, he can hold you in his arms with one arm supporting you while he cooks, letting you taste various ingredients.

Viktor:

- Unlike Jayce, it only takes two suspicious behaviors in a row for him to understand what’s happening. It’s something far from his world, sure, but he recognizes it.

- And he confronts you. He doesn’t beat around the bush, doesn’t stammer; he might even sound angry because he doesn’t understand why you’d hurt yourself like this and willingly give up your well-being.

- I won’t lie, I doubt that an open discussion about something this delicate with him wouldn’t lead to at least one hysterical cry.

- But he’s not brutal for the sake of being brutal; his suffering and frustration turn into anger. It takes him a while to calm down, but he won’t accept compromises.

- You’ll have meals together at home, either returning to your rooms together or straight to the house, so no one can see you and you won’t feel bad.

- And he won’t force you, he tries to handle it with as much care as possible, but there’s no day that goes by without him getting up from the table if you haven’t eaten at least two food items per meal.

- He loves you too much to see you hurt yourself in that way, and knowing that he can't do anything about it makes him feel powerless.

Ekko:

- It takes him a week—not to understand, but to process it.

- Having grown up in total poverty, the idea of giving up food “for whim” makes him react in a way that is only human.

- And the whole thing is too distant for him: everyone’s skin is grayish, 90% of the population of the Lanes has missing limbs and monstrous prosthetics, and everyone’s goal is to survive as long as possible. What does it mean that you’re against your own survival??

- As unsupportive as he might be regarding the issue, he becomes incredibly vigilant and concerned.

- He’ll always make sure you’re warm enough, that you’re comfortable, and no matter how frustrated he is, he’ll always try to stay close to you, even just holding you in bed until you fall asleep.

- Every single comment you make about your body, he’ll respond with, “Don’t talk about my partner like that,” 

- no one can speak badly of you, not even you.

Vander:

- The most understanding: he was young once too, and although in his size meant an advantage, he and Silco snuck into various galas when they were younger, and there, even though he never had these problems, he would feel a strange sensation seeing that he was the biggest in the room or that it was hard to find someone to steal clothes from that would fit him.

- He doesn’t lecture you or anything like that, he doesn’t get angry despite how he grew up; he just feels sadness for you that you can’t see how little that complex matters and how beautiful you already are.

- His compromise is vegetables. If you don’t feel like eating every meal every day, it doesn’t matter, but at least four days a week, you have to have three meals.

- And for the rest, he’ll cook, making sure to prepare the best dishes made from vegetables so that you don’t feel guilty and your body doesn’t deteriorate.

- But he doesn’t support your illness, he simply ensures that you get everything you need and never go below the necessary intake without having you feeling guilty about it.

Silco:

- Hoping that the most attentive and watchful man in the lanes wouldn't notice how, suddenly, meals go from moments of lightness to something you try to avoid at all costs is a bit foolish, but he says nothing.

- He waits for as long as necessary, basically to see how long it lasts and how much you're not planning to talk to him.

- When he realizes you won’t, not anytime soon, he waits for you to be alone in his office, where you’ll find a slice of cake on his desk. Sure, it’s a low blow, but it’s also the fastest way to get you to confront the issue without too many escape routes.

- He’s a big fan of the saying “dirty laundry is washed in the family,” so if you act strange about meals in front of others, he won’t allow questions or jokes, but in private, he won’t accept “no” for an answer.

- He has enough problems already without you crying from hunger pains or having psychotic episodes due to sugar deficiency, so as long as you're under his watch, under Zaun's eye, he won't let you live with unhealthy standards.

- During meals, he becomes the strictest. He doesn’t say anything, but one look is enough to make you think twice about contradicting him. In the evening, though, when your mental health is most fragile, he becomes gentler, comforting you as much as you need.

Jinx:

- You find fertile ground, but like any good bearer of the same issue: she feels she can do it, but you cannot.

- Being with her or in her space becomes like a live-action version of Thumbelina: she’ll leave sweets, chocolates, things she knows you like to encourage you to eat so you can’t hurt yourself.

- She usually forgets to eat herself when she’s caught up in her studies and work, but if she has someone to care for, it doesn’t matter how, she’ll make sure to remember. Even if it means setting a few colorful bombs with timers.

- She feeds you. In the most visible, worst way. It’s easy that if you turn your head, you’ll find a cookie shoved in your mouth unceremoniously.

- And every single tight-fitting outfit disappears from her lair. Magically, whatever clothes you pick up from her pile fit loosely, but if you ask her about it, she’ll claim she doesn’t know what are you talking about.

Vi:

- Want to see Vi in a panic, becoming super protective and possessive in a way? Just wait for one episode, and you’ll see everything you haven’t seen.

- She’ll check on you at least three times a day, and in the evening, when you have pain or a crisis, she’ll run back and forth from the room, thinking about everything she can do to help you feel better without making you feel guilty.

- During meals, she’ll hold you in her arms and insist that you eat, but not aggressively—in a way that’s almost frightened: she’s always been used to fighting big, real monsters, but even when it came to her sister, she could never defeat the invisible ones, and the fear of failing or hurting someone she loved again terrifies her in an agonizing way.

- Like Jayce, she’ll also try a more physical way of reassuring you, like body worshipping when you’re alone or working out with you to show you that your weight doesn’t matter.

Caitlyn:

- She doesn’t know how to react; she realizes it quite quickly but fears that by acknowledging it, she might only make you feel worse.

- One day, she gathers the courage to ask if everything is okay and tells you that she’s noticed those behaviors. When you open up to her, telling her about the issues, she doesn’t respond right away and simply hugs you.

- She becomes more caring, making sure that you don’t have to attend banquets or dinners where you wouldn’t feel comfortable, bringing you food in your room to eat together, and sometimes even leaving the room so as not to put pressure on you.

- When you mention a craving, she immediately springs into action to get it for you, even if you complain that you weren’t serious. Once she understands how your condition works, she orders everything in three portions, so she can eat with you and then be the first to say that she wants more, asking if you want to share the third portion.

- If you have fat accumulated in any area, she’ll knead it with her hands while kissing you, to let you know that she loves every inch of you.

Mel:

- She notices you're having a crisis before you even realize it yourself.

- She’s a ruler, but what she learned from a young age is that a leader must appear reliable and look good, so even if unconsciously, she too sometimes experiences small crises when she feels like she isn’t looking perfect.

- No conversations, no lectures, just an increase in cuddles, moments of intimacy, and later, she brings home sweets.

- “They were a gift to me today at the council,” she lies, but sometimes she says she got them for both of you. She doesn’t want to make you feel like you’re in the wrong. She knows that when you’re ready and if you want to, you’ll bring up the issue with her, but for now, the best thing she can do is help you get through the episode with euphoria, love, and treats that encourage you to listen to your hunger rather than the illness.

Sevika:

- Like everyone in Zaun, the idea that someone would voluntarily give up food is simply incomprehensible to her.

- But she won’t comment on your problems. She doesn’t intend to invalidate them, but she also won’t encourage it.

- “Are you sure? That’s a bit too little,” will be her comment when you eat something ridiculously small, before making you a proper portion of food herself. If you try to argue, she’ll respond with a smug smile, saying that if you eat that little, you’ll end up breaking when you’re in bed together.

- As much as possible, she’ll try to get the best, freshest, and most natural food, to reassure you that you don’t need to worry, but she’ll never insist that you eat if you say you don’t feel up to it. She’ll gesture for you to come sit on her lap and keep you there, occasionally offering you things she knows you like, telling you that she’s really craving them, and if you want them too, she’ll go get them.

- If a crisis is particularly bad, she’ll try to finish her work as quickly as possible to be able to stay with you for the rest of the day and not leave you alone.

[chernabogs]

A Rainy Wandering

Inc: Reader/Malleus (99% platonic but we had to sneak those subtle feelings in there at the end. Love me some two oblivious clowns) Second person POV Warnings: None WC: 1.8k Summary: Er so that new Malleus card, yeah? (Or: hey your bff scheduled in a 4 hour gargoyle tour, are you coming, orrrr...?) Also s.o to Alexandra with her literal Field Guide to Gargoyles and founding of the Gargoyle Appreciation Society. My hero rn for this hope they are thriving.

The campus is shrouded in grey as the rain falls at a steady rate around you. You grip your umbrella with both hands to combat against the gentle tug of the wind as you stand at the end of your dorms long walkway, shifting from side to side on occasion to look at both ends of the road. Behind you, the orange glow of Ramshackles cozy inside beckons to you, promising an escape from the rain in the form of wool blankets and terrible reality television. You’re half tempted to go back, but you staunchly remind yourself that you had made a promise, and you were not someone to fall back on your word.

That being said, your friend is about five minutes late, but you can forgive him. He’s never been good at keeping track of time. 

You shift on your heels again as you tilt the umbrella back to look at the grey sky. You last all of two seconds before too many raindrops fall on your face and you look back down, blinking the water out of your eye. The motion lets you take note of a pair of boots standing to your right. 

“Oh!” You splutter, moving your umbrella again to look at to whom those boots belong. Malleus stands in a very casual, unassuming manner, his own umbrella in hand and his brow quirked in amusement. “How long have you been standing here for?” 

You know the answer to that already—probably just seconds—but Malleus’ lips curl into a secretive smile as he shrugs a shoulder. “Long enough to observe you taking a makeshift wash.” 

A sour look is what he gets in turn, although yours always lack venom when it comes to him. A quick glance over his form shows you that he’s come prepared for the weather as well. In addition to his umbrella (which is decorated with gargoyles, to your amusement), he wears a black and purple raincoat, gloves, and has tied his hair back in a looped knot you think you've never seen him wear before. Compared to your yellow rubber boots and yellow raincoat, he looks like he stepped out of a high-fashion shoot. 

To serve and observe, apparently, is the agenda for today. You missed that memo. 

“I need to tie a bell to your wrist so I know when you’re coming.” You grumble as he steps back to the road, leaving you to fall in line with him. His warm laughter fills the air as you begin the first few legs of the tour he’s been talking about for ages.

“Now, I do think I recall you saying that once before,” he muses, tapping his fingers against the metal gargoyle at his umbrella's base. “You have yet to follow through.” 

 “I think your students would mob my dorm if I were to try and tie anything to you. Maybe I should just put an alarm on your phone instead—as long as you don’t break it again.” 

Often this would earn you a look of mock hurt, but Malleus seems far too jubilant at the moment to care about the subtle read you’re giving him. He’s smiling away, as happy as can be as he walks by your side. He even has a little bounce in his step. It almost makes you want to laugh at the sight; how can anyone call him intimidating when he’s looking like a child about to get a present? 

“Ah, yes, yes. I have been diligent in keeping my devices in check. Shroud has been of much help in that.” His gaze darts around the campus until he loops his arm with yours and pulls you swiftly to the right. You’re pliant to his guidance, only sighing in response as you let him pull you wherever he sees fit. This is something you’ve come to realize about the nature of your relationship with the prince. Malleus is a chronic wanderer, tending to just go off wherever he wishes, but he’s also mildly codependent. Since you two had firmly established that you are friends—hell, you gave the man a friendsgiving card—everywhere Malleus drifts off to, he takes you like a tether.

“Ah! Our first stop on our tour,” he begins, still brimming with energy. He tries to move his umbrella, only to have it collide with yours in the process. “Actually, before we begin, would you be so kind as to close your umbrella? We can use mine.”

You lean back to look up at your friend incredulously. At well over 6 feet, horns excluded, you doubt that you will remain dry for long should Malleus shield you both with his umbrella. He stares back both unwavering and with expectation in his look. You purse your lips. He raises an eyebrow. You lean back a bit, he replicates the action, his gaze looking you up and down. Daring you.

Oh, girl.

After a second of silent staring with a dash of attitude that the man rarely shows anyone else, you huff a sigh and close your umbrella, scooting closer to him once you do. His expression lights up as you roll your eyes, and he resumes his tangent. 

“Thank you, my dear friend. Now, as I was saying, our first stop on our tour! If you direct your attention upwards you will see what is aptly called a screamer gargoyle. The positioning of its body—with hands behind its head and its mouth agape—is meant to remind those who witness it that torment lay ahead if they fail to fulfill a particular purpose. You may see these on the cathedrals in numerous nations, as they were quite popular to evoke terror in worshippers.”

 You scoot forward to look past the edge of the umbrella at the gargoyle in particular. True to Malleus’ word, the carved figure looks as though it’s screaming in agony, its eyes directed upwards, and its body bent at an angle. You smirk a little. 

“Kind of looks like Ace and Deuce during exams.” 

Malleus hums thoughtfully. “Perhaps that is why they put one on a school ground. To remind students of the torment they will endure should they neglect studying and strike deals for grades instead.”

“So mean,” you chastise, even though you were the one to start this train of thought. The two of you continue your trail along the main road. Malleus keeps your arms firmly linked together as he chatters on, stopping on occasion to point out a particularly significant gargoyle, or a grotesque lined against the wall. You reckon this is the most your friend has talked in a while, considering his need to stop and clear his throat with an apology. 

You also consider that this is probably one of few times that he’s managed to rope someone into a walk with him like this. Out of the joy his joy seems to bring you, you prompt him with several questions as you tour about, doing your best to remember the info dumping you’re being subjected to. A slip up of calling a grotesque a gargoyle by mistake, which earned you a verbal berating in the gentlest of manners, was enough to make you pay closer attention.

As the rain begins to lighten and the sun valiantly fights to break free, the two of you come to a stop in one of the courtyard areas of the main building. You fish out a granola bar from your pocket as Malleus holds the umbrella, offering him half of it before you look around at the building. There aren’t as many gargoyles here as the other areas, save for one impressive dragon carving looming over the courtyard entrance. You gesture to it in silence, your mouth too full of chocolate and granola to speak. Fortunately, Malleus has become more then attuned to your gestures to know what you’re saying—another reward of your friendship. 

“That is one of the older gargoyles present on the campus. Considering that the courtyard we are standing in served as part of the original residence, I would wager that the initial owner of the lands commissioned this.” Malleus taps the base of the umbrella again as he tilts it back to look upwards. A few stray raindrops hit his cheek, making his brow furrow as he inspects the moss-covered structure. He’s looking at the gargoyle, while you’re looking at the expressions he’s pulling. “Most people surmise that the selection of a dragon was done to evoke fear in opponents who may try to take these lands, but I’m of the mindset that it was done to symbolize the wisdom and guardianship the owners held over their subjects. Dragons are, after all, quite wise.”

“So the dragon says.” You reply teasingly as you look at the statue. He’s right to guess that it’s certainly the oldest one you’ve seen. The stone is aged and slightly cracked along the edges. You know that Malleus has a habit of carving statues himself, and you wonder if he’s ever considered trying to repair it. Given his love for all things crumbling and ancient, however, you also wager that the thought of rebuilding something that time has claimed is well against his personal morals. 

“My assessment is free of bias, Prefect.” He counters with a mockingly scolding tone to his voice. You know it to be in jest by the way his eyes remain alight with joy. He really is infectious when he’s in a good mood, dangerously so, and a part of you wishes he could stay this way consistently instead of sliding back to the quiet, brooding form he can be when he’s feeling temperamental. 

You scrunch up the granola wrapper before shoving it in your pocket with a shake of your head. “Oh yes, definitely no projecting going on here.”

“I will leave you out in this rain.” He warns, tilting the umbrella so that you’re out of its cover. You yelp in protest and duck back underneath, practically squishing yourself against him to keep from doing that again. 

“You like me too much to do that!” You argue back as you grip the umbrella handle yourself. He breaks his facade of sternness to laugh as his arm comes around you to rest on your back. The act feels far too natural for the first time he’s ever done it, yet you acquiesce regardless. “Besides, who else will finish this loop with you? Silver is training with Sebek and Lilia is off… well. Doing whatever he pleases.”

Another thoughtful hum vibrates in Malleus’ chest, which you can feel considering the proximity of your bodies in this moment. A sudden awareness strikes you that makes you feel a bit awkward about it all. Out of reflex you nudge his waist with your arm, prompting him to give you some more space.

“I suppose you have me there,” he notes, granting you a half smile as he looks down to your irate expression. He offers you the crook of his arm, and you silently oblige by linking it with yours. He tugs you a bit closer this time around as he beckons to the courtyard exit. “Let us continue, then. I would say we have another hour at least. Oh, I do hope you’re as excited as I am for what’s to come.”

[chongoblog]

SCREW IT IM GONNA TOOT MY OWN HORN FOR A BIT

So it's been like a month since I put up my last big mashup, and the response has been awesome. I wanted to talk about all the little bits I put in there, because frankly, I put a lot of love into it, and I want to share it! Here's the video of the mashup with the music video (which is a big part of it.)

First of all, shoutouts to Shoocharu for the incredible animation for the original MV. I've found him to always have the best Game Grumps animations, and his abilities work perfectly for this music video.

Okay, now just to talk about all the Silly Jokes and Bits and Stuff. A lot of these were noticed by comments (and shoutouts to them! I love seeing people get these)

-Ska Cha Cha is used as a reference to the name of the actual song "Transcendental Cha Cha Cha". Close enough.

-A couple samples are used multiple times at different points in the song. For "Tik Tok", "Ska Cha Cha" and "Down" it makes sense since it's the chorus of the song. However, I also bring back "I'm Blue" and "Toxic" because in the original song, those samples are played over the lyrics "The universe is getting colder, colder. Still every universe somehow got Zumba". Those lyrics are repeated at the end of the song, showing how what was once madness is now being embraced. I thought playing those samples again with the full mix was appropriate.

-And yes, in the two appearances of The Void in the music video, MEGALOVANIA plays because he looks kinda like Sans.

-"words, words, words" was a super interesting inclusion. At first I added it because of the lyric "Just relax..." which is a lyric during that portion of Transcendental Cha Cha Cha. Also, not only did "here's two facts" thematically work well (since the song was about to discuss two separate universes) but it also perfectly aligned rhythmically. Also, that "words, words, words" line might be one of my favorite pre-choruses ever.

-I included Cruel Angel's Thesis at someone else's suggestion, but I'm really glad they suggested it. I actually start it with a somewhat heavy low pass filter before slowly fading off it because I thought it sounded cooler.

-I included "Harder Better Faster Stronger" during that portion because Tom's vocal effects sound similar.

-Cha Cha Slide matches perfectly since the lyrics of Transcendental Cha Cha Cha are also "Slide to the left....slide to the right". Incredibly proud of the little breakdown I included during the mix-up portion.

-"Sometimes this song, it sounds like" segment is referencing myself, since over the years I have developed my own patterns. Sometimes the song does indeed sound like Crawling (plus funny commercial next to it. Again...patterns) and sometimes it does sound like All Star (shoutouts to Star Shop)

-The Mighty B! Theme slaps actually.

-I felt like I had to include the Peanut Butter Jelly snippet, since "it's everything and nothing, it's a baseball bat" sounded almost like it was a direct reference to it. I wanted to include the original Tom Cardy lyric on top of that one both to hammer home the joke and also because I thought the harmonic vocals layered perfectly onto Peanut Butter Jelly Time would make for a nice touch.

-Every time I saw someone notice that I put the "God Dammit" directly after Never Gonna Give You Up to imply that he was mad about getting rick rolled, I gained a year of my life.

-Keeping the "Blink!" from the original song I felt was useful to help kinda punctuate the wildly different samples I was using.

-"Money Game" and "Money Money Money" being played over the French Revolution. Completely unrelated, but have you noticed how much wealth inequality we're facing here in America? That's interesting.

-"Closer" and "Closer" is such an easy joke. In fact it's so easy I've done it before. Did it anyway lmao

-During the big buildup, "Larger Than Life" was used mostly because I hadn't used that song before and I thought it was time. "Dare" was put in because I think that the vocals work really well to naturally create a sense of buildup (unless it's the Live version). "Brain Power" was put in to replicate the noise gate that Tom put on his extended note.

-Monkey Watch and Mr Brightside. Again! Patterns!

-toes

So yeah that's Transcendental Fever Dream. I'm sure if I had more time and excuses to talk about all the nitty gritty details and choices made I'd do it, but I think this is a pretty big breakdown. Something's always felt kinda Big about this one. I think that save for Super Smashup, this is the best mashup I've ever made, and I think it acts as a sort of a culmination of these last 7 years or so of mashups. No idea what the future holds, but if it comes from love, then it's gonna be great.

Thanks for reading.

[anundyingfidelity]

HAPPY MISTAKE — Logan Howlett

Summary: Not ever, through all the years of your life, you found someone like Logan. Since he arrived at the school, something brought you together like a magnet. Sadly, not everything came out as you wished it would be. Time is not gentle with mutants, and you try so hard to show him your unconditional love before everything is over, but can you finally accept your feelings for each other? Or yours and Logan's tumultuous relationship through the years.

(PART ONE → PART TWO) | GEN MASTERLIST!

Pairing: Logan x mutant!female!reader.

Word count: 9.6k.

Warnings: slow burn, breaking up(?)/making up, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut and unprotected everything, language, character death, time travel, Logan hurting reader unintentionally, wounds and blood. Logan being a whore for both Jean Grey and the reader. Reader has slow aging as Logan and looks around mid 30s in my head. Anthropology teacher!reader. Reader can manipulate light (just like Starlight from The Boys). This takes place between different movies from the franchise, from X-Men 1 to DoFP, so spoilers of the movies ahead.

Notes: Long time no write. Life is horrible but somehow I managed to get this in like two months. I love Logan so fucking much now you don't have an idea. This was also written with Happy Mistake by Lady Gaga in mind. If you'd like to be tagged in the second part let me know or let me know your thoughts on this, it's very much appreciated! I suffered a lot writing it .

𝒊𝒇 𝒊 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒙 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊'𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆.

—

2000

“Need any help?”

Logan stopped on his tracks from wandering around the cozy, yet strange place he woke up in. Turning on his feet, he saw your figure standing in the middle of the hallway. He said nothing, but you approached him as you had known him for a very long time.

“I assume you’re the new guy-”

“Where is she?” Logan abruptly interrupted once you stood inches away from him.

“Rogue? She’s fine. And you need to take a little rest.”

“I don’t need medical attention,” he said, looking around to search for a nearby exit. Before he walked away you took his arm in a soft grip.

He was, as much as you could tell, surprised by your boldness. You gave him no time to process his next movements once you talked again, your voice firm and welcoming in a way he had never felt before.

“Please, you need to meet Professor Xavier,” you said. “At least before you go. It’s totally fine if you wanna leave, I don’t recommend it though, but we can offer you a safe place here. We are just like you.”

Logan’s hardened expression relaxed for a moment, sensing no threat coming from you. All he saw in your eyes wasn’t pity, nor anger at him being kind of an asshole at first. It was just authority, the good kind where he also had something to say and decide about.

“Whatcha say, Logan?”

He was so immersed in his thoughts before you called his name, thinking it sounded beautiful falling off your lips. You gave him a half smile as he took in each detail of your face, as if he was memorizing every part of it.

It was the first time someone had been nice to him and it felt strangely good.

For some reason, it felt very good coming from you.

—

Logan just found out from the Professor’s mouth the mansion was a school for mutants. Gifted people, he called them. After learning another powerful mutant was behind him and Rogue, he had no other choice but accept the shelter. He didn’t like the other guys better, playing the teacher with a bunch of teenagers with special or cursed abilities. But besides Storm and Jean, you were the person who had welcomed him the most, even showing him the place and the room he would stay in.

One late night, you sat at the dining table together. Logan was silently drinking a beer outside school hours so the kids wouldn’t see him, and you, reading a bunch of papers from your students that you were missing. He realized how hard you worked, how you would praise your students, how you talked to them outside classes, being the one to actually convince Rogue to enroll in the school. Immediately, he knew you were really something, having much more in common than he thought. And you, living for so long, being both a mutant and a lady for sure had a hard life through time.

“What you teach again?” he suddenly asked, breaking the comfortable silence you shared.

“Anthropology,” you answered, giving him a short glance. “I took this at college a long time ago, and I’ve been alive long enough to know a thing or two,” you explained, putting away a paper after putting an A+ on it proudly. “It’s important to understand ourselves, humankind and mutants… It’s a diverse world and there are lots of cultures, languages and societies we don’t get to know, but it’s beautiful. I think I like to celebrate what makes us unique. I've had the chance to study some of them around the world since I had the time, y’know, and it’s truly amazing. It’s a shame we have to fight between us to make us heard when we could just be kind and empathetic to each other… Sorry, you didn’t ask but, y’know, anyway.”

You shook your head with a curve on your lips, going back to the next paper. Logan had taken the sparks in your eyes as you talked. He half smiled to himself once you buried yourself in your papers again, thinking you sounded just like Professor Xavier. No wonder why he took you in. Probably, if things were different for him, he would’ve found something that could light his face with so much passion just like you did.

“Been alive for almost two hundred years,” Logan said and you looked up to him. “We might have things about the past to share,” he drank from his beer. It was your turn to smile back at him.

“Yeah, well, I’ve lived both horrible but nice things. Couldn’t read or do math without being called a witch,” you chuckled to yourself, but hiding on the inside the awful experiences you had to endure. “Someday, we could go out and grab a coffee or something,” you said with a playful smile.

A light chuckle left your lips, but you and him knew it wasn’t just a joke.

He joined you with a warm smile that lit up his face before disappearing from his lips. “Of course. Count me in.”

—

The sun was shining bright and the weather was great that morning. Some of the students were in the yard playing, having some quality time, and others simply just left to go to the town. It was a good weekend before the next semester started, and it was better now knowing Magneto had been taken to prison after his failed attempt to use Rogue for his plans.

Sipping on your coffee, you saw the students outside. Laughing, running, having a good breakfast picnic. It felt heartwarming just taking this sight, wishing it would always be like this. Your mindful peace was interrupted when Logan entered the kitchen to have a coffee on his own. Visibly, you tensed just a little when he approached you and sat right in front of you at the dining table. The caffeine was not helping at all, you thought.

“Morning,” he greeted you, noticing something was off on you, but hoping it would pass. Maybe you already knew.

“Morning…” your voice came out as a whisper. “How you feeling?”

“Better. What about you?”

You gave a small nod. “Good, thanks for asking.”

A silence fell upon you. Not like the ones you used to share in lonely nights where you prepared your classes and Logan just sat down calmly because he couldn’t sleep. This time it was different. Words won’t come out of your mouth to ask what was really bothering you. You had grown up to like Logan and enjoy his company, but he had a lot of walls upon him, protecting himself of the world and people around him.

However, you understood why he did it. You both have been alive longer than anyone else. You saw people you love dearly dead, being killed because of your flaws. And you really connected to his idea of protecting people by leaving their side. It was better being away. That was until Professor Xavier recruited you. Here, you had a purpose and you helped young people to become the best versions of themselves. You wished Logan could do the same, stay and see he was more of what he thought of himself, but it wouldn’t happen. Right? He had things to sort out on his own.

“Are you leaving soon?”

When you asked the question, Logan knew you had heard something from the Professor. He gave you a nod.

“I need to reconnect with who I was,” he simply answered.

“Right… Wish you all the best there.”

Logan had grown to like you over the past few weeks you shared, exchanging experiences and lessons of life you had taken through the years. For a moment, he looked right into your eyes and smiled. He weirdly smiled, and you could swear he’d miss you too once he is away.

But that warm feeling soon faded away once Jean walked into the kitchen, saying good morning and beaming to the both of you. Logan followed her with his gaze, straightening himself on his seat as she served her own breakfast and an extra plate that you already knew was for Scott. She also began putting fruits and snacks inside a picnic basket while looking all happy and settled, and you knew why Logan had fallen in love with her. It was all over his face.

And you wondered how could he act and talk to you so kindly and sweet, and then look at Jean like that. It was a pain in your heart you tried to dissipate. Everyone knew Jean and Scott were a couple, and the fact that Logan had a not so secret crush on her really played on you. It made you feel like a fool and you had too many heartbreaks and hurted people, putting them in danger due to your mutation, to take initiative and start a relationship - or anything of the sort - again.

Scott made his way inside the kitchen, saying hi to both of you - mostly you. And took the tray with their plates as Jean grabbed the basket, but she let Scott leave the kitchen before.

“Have a good trip, Logan,” she said kindly. “I hope to see you around here soon.”

“Thank you, Jean.”

She smiled one last time before leaving you all alone, Logan following her with his eyes. Just for a second, you wished he could see you like that underneath his facade.

—

You had packed your stuff later that day, deciding a little air and a change for one night would do no wrong. Just as you were walking to the main door, Rogue was saying her goodbyes to Logan after giving him a small hug without really touching him. It was a cute sight how Rogue was able to step into his cold heart. She said goodbye to you as well before leaving the entrance.

“You’re going away too?” Logan asked, rather surprised as you both walked through the door, the sun hitting your skin as soon as you were out of the mansion. He knew your life was at the school.

“Just for the weekend,” you shrug it off.

Logan gave you a nod with a warm smile. “Then have a good trip and enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks. I hope you find what you’ve been looking for.”

“I hope so too,” Logan answered and before he went to take Scott’s bike, he looked at you hesitantly for a couple of seconds. “We should go out and grab some coffee once I’m back.”

Your lips formed a wide smile. “That sounds really nice.”

For a moment, where time felt like hours and not seconds, you stood right out the door, looking at each other. You wanted him to go first, but he was waiting for you to say something. Probably to ride the bike with him, he could leave you somewhere near your destination and feel you close - just be around you for at least five more minutes. But none of that ever happened.

Instead, you studied his face, looking at his deep eyes, and then his lips - those lips you wanted to kiss so bad before, but never had the courage to do so. You didn’t think further, and if something had taken possession over you, you leaned towards him leaving a short, sweet kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Take care,” you mumbled once you pulled away.

Not waiting for his answer, you turned back, pulling your bag to your side stronger than ever and walked the path to the front gates, feeling his gaze all over you until you left the mansion.

He felt such an idiot for not kissing you properly.

—

2003

‘I know what I want, but what do you want?’

Mystique’s words echoed through his head. Logan left the tent so long ago he didn’t know what time it was anymore and the situation kept repeating again and again in his mind. The woman had shifted between Jean, Ororo, and you. The one that icked him the most being Rogue once Mystique had taken her figure in. Storm was a good colleague, Jean was a forbidden love, Rogue was like his little sister, someone he would protect as long as he could, and you… you were a different case. When Mystique was about to kiss him wearing your figure, he finally realized he started feeling things he had prohibited himself for a very long time, and he thought he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

Once or twice you shared experiences about love and partners, but he could tell it hurted you the same way as him. He couldn’t burden breaking your heart, or worse, getting you hurt because of what he was. Logan knew you had the same bad luck in the past, but it didn’t stop any of you to pull towards each other like a magnet.

‘Living for so long does things to you, Logan. I feel we become more aware of what we are.’

Those words you said to him one time remained in his head like a warning, and he took it personally.

Closing his eyes, he leaned against a hard tree trunk some feet away from the tents where the rest of the X-Men rested. He tried to find some peace alone for a few moments when the sounds of steps approaching alerted his senses. Claws out and ready to attack, he spun around the trunk only to stop in a second.

There you were, a bright light emanating from your hand to illuminate your path in the darkness of the woods.

“Logan?”

Quickly, he withdrew his claws and his body relaxed visibly. “Sorry,” he apologized, leaning against the tree one more time.

“Are you okay?” you asked, but you already knew the answer. The exhausted sigh he let out told you everything you needed. You let the soft glow of light floating between you and him, to illuminate both of you under the branches. “You wanna talk?”

He slowly shook his head, mumbling ‘no’. He became startled in the light floating like a firefly, letting his own issues wash away with your sole company. Ironically, everything that was troubling him was you. Softly, you caressed his arm, taking him out of his own thoughts. Your touch didn’t help his poor mind either.

Looking worried about the next mission in Lake Alkali, you feared for him and your team. And your lack of sleep was showing it. But just like Logan, the growing feelings were troubling your head. You had seen him talking with Jean earlier when you landed in the forest - talking too close to your liking once he pulled her for a kiss. But what could you do? Logan was still after Jean even when she had already declined him countless of times, and it didn’t really hurt you. It just felt strange inside. Why would he do that while still being nice to you, quitting being a dick when he wanted because he knew you’d snap back at him. And to be honest, Logan looked as if he liked that about you. But he won’t admit it out loud, and of course, you wouldn’t ask. Men were so damn complicated.

“Well, I only expect things to not get worse…” you finally said in a soft whisper since he wasn’t talking and you stopped your head going further on the matter. And you knew he wouldn’t talk soon either. “And you’re brave for seeking your past.”

Logan locked his eyes with your own, under the soft light. Your tired gaze, your figure, your aura pulling him like he found a treasure in an abandoned cave… He felt so bad for falling for someone like you, who was nothing compared to the crap he was. And then, for the first time in years, he decided to follow his instinct with you.

He leaned towards your figure, his rough hand cupping your cheek gently before pulling you in for a kiss. With a soft sigh you corresponded, your arms around his neck as it turned deeper and harsher. Logan lifted you easily from the ground, your legs tangling around his waist until you felt your back against a rough surface, trapped between the trunk and his body. Soft moans and grunts mingled, your chest pressing against his own, his hips grinding against your crotch. It was obvious you wanted this. Logan desired you so painfully after that day you kissed him goodbye at the mansion, he needed your body and soul. But you had to have answers before giving into the heat of the moment.

Pulling away, you broke the kiss, your forehead resting against his own as you tried to catch your breath. Logan tried to taste you once again, but you placed two of your fingers on his swollen lips.

“Why’d you kiss her?”

He remained silent, brows furrowed and eyes blown in lust. You didn’t make any effort to pull him away. He still had you between his legs, asking a simple question he had no response for.

“We’re adults here, Logan. Just wanna know why before we go further.”

Logan started to remember. He vividly heard Jean and Mystique voicing out and asking the right question.

‘Girls flirt with the bad guy. They take the good guy home.’

‘What do you want?’

“Do you really want me?” he asked in return.

You lifted an eyebrow at his sudden question. “And do you?”

He leaned again for a kiss on your lips, and thankfully for him, you didn’t stop it. But he quickly pulled away and inhaled your sweet scent from the skin on your neck, leaving a path of soft pecks, until he nipped the shell of your ear softly. You shivered under his touch.

“I’d love to have you,” he whispered, softly caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Come to my tent,” you mumbled. “Sleep with me. But like, seriously, sleep with me ‘cause I’m tired,” you chuckled, hoping to not kill the mood.

Logan smiled for a bit and nodded, pecking your lips one more time before helping you get on your feet on the muddy ground, hands rubbing your sides slowly.

“As long as I have you by my side it’s alright with me.”

—

Jean’s death was hard to swallow.

For weeks, students and teachers mourned her, and you felt sorry for Scott for losing his soulmate. Logan was not in the best shape either. He didn’t attend her funeral, he never had the guts to stand by her grave either, until now. You stopped right behind him and noticed him sighing, under the afternoon sunset. He was tense because of everything, but when you took his hand out of the pocket of his jacket, he held onto you. Your fingers intertwined together, feeling his life depending solely on you, like a rock he needed to support his whole weight.

The day was about to end, the sun slowly hiding, giving a beautiful painting of orange and purple in the sky. You thought it would soon become an intense thunderstorm due to Ororo’s mourn - something you had gotten used to the last few days.

“She saved us,” Logan barely mumbled, looking intensely at the grave.

You nodded, even if he could not see you. “Can’t blame her, I’d have done the same.”

Those words cause him to look back at you, wishing it’d be a lie. But inside, Logan knew you really had the guts to sacrifice yourself for others. It was something he remembered both of you talking about some time ago. And you would give everything in your hands to save the ones you love.

Quietly, Logan gave a last glance at Jean’s grave, and guided you inside the mansion. Classes barely started again due to the circumstances and a few kids could be seen around the halls. You accompanied him to the doors of his room, noticing you had been holding hands the whole time. Probably no one really cared, they were too busy trying to go through the grief of losing a loved one. Slowly, you broke the gesture, taking your hand away and Logan immediately missed the heat and comfort of your hand.

“Do you need anything?” you asked in a low voice.

Looking at you, Logan reminisced how you kissed in the woods, the need and lust for each other that couldn’t be. He did sleep in your tent that night, in the comfort of your arms, feeling the warmth of your skin. It was, probably, the first time he had a good, peaceful night of sleep in years. No one had brought that up, but he knew something was there. And he needed to act on it before it was too late.

So he brought up his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks lovingly before planting a kiss on your lips, not caring he was standing in the middle of the hallway where anyone could see what was going on. You leaned against his touch, deepening the kiss until you couldn’t catch a breath. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead into yours, taking in the beauty of your bright eyes and swollen lips. Everything wandering his mind, making a path right into his cold heart was right in front of him.

“You.”

—

Knocking Professor Xavier's door, you walked inside as soon as his voice announced to come in. You caught your breath seeing Logan by his desk. He just gave you a quick, accomplice glimpse and left the room, closing the door behind. The exchange of glances wasn’t unnoticed by Charles.

“Here’s the report on my subject for this last semester, Professor,” you announced, leaving the folder on the wooden desk.

“Thank you. How’s Logan doing?” he asked all of a sudden, checking the door the man had crossed just seconds ago.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you believe he is comfortable helping the kids?” the old man asked again. He was seeing right through you, and you kind of hated every time he used to do that to you. Nothing could be hidden from Xavier; definitely you couldn’t hide a single thing for the man who took you in decades ago.

“Why would I know that?”

He shrugged it off. “Well, you seem very close lately.”

Close was not the best word to describe your relationship with Logan. Yet, you were sleeping on his bed just the night before. The trace of his kisses, the burn of his beard on your skin, his teeth biting softly your breasts, his rough hands all over your hips… Every touch he left on your body you could still feel it, and you wanted to think he was not just using you. During the past weeks, you were together. Not quite a relationship-thing was established properly, but it was the closest thing any of you could have as for now.

It was a mixture of grief, pain, and hope that had you both still standing. In the end, you understood what he felt. Being alone and alive for so long and then finding a place where people accepted you for who you were was a whole change, even if some years passed by. Though, the time Logan had been spending at the school was nothing but a blink of an eye compared to his past.

“What happened to our team is still affecting us,” you finally said. “I believe we are good friends, yes, we’ve been supporting each other. And he doesn’t know how to deal with the students yet most of the time, but I try to walk him through it.”

Xavier hummed, smiling at the corner of his lips as he eyed the folder you handed him. “I bet you both do.Thanks for bringing your report on time, as always, and I apologize if I am being intrusive. Just please be careful with the noises both of you make at night, we have kids around here.”

Shit.

You swallowed your pride right there and simply gave a nod, feeling the heat burning up your face.

“Will do, Professor.”

—

A loud gasp escaped your lips as you held for dear life on his broad shoulders, hips snapping against your own. His pace was reckless, keeping you on the edge of sin. Grunts mixed with sweet moans, skin hitting skin again and again every time you felt his cock inside you. If possible, your nails could have already left visible scars and marks on his back, scratching and bleeding off his skin as he fucked you senseless.

Logan sucked on the bare skin on your neck, inhaling your scent, feeling your walls clenching around his girth, his hands roughly grabbing the sides of your hips as you moaned his name, over and over, under the moonlight. He looked at you intensely with loving eyes when you came underneath him, eyes flashing that familiar bright light every time a powerful orgasm hit your body. The vulnerable sight of your figure shaking, eyes closing slowly and biting your lip to keep the pretty noises low, made him reach the sweetest high.

With a grunt, he leaned to attack your lips in a heated, wet kiss to moan against your mouth. Logan pulled back to press butterfly kisses on your jaw, until he reached your breasts, feeling himself soften inside your wet heat. His hips were still thrusting just enough to fill you up at a gentle rhythm. Marking you his and only his.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled against the sensitive skin of your chest. “Remind me why we’re here again.”

You chuckled softly, fingers tangling on his disheveled hair. You just had prepared a small date night out at the shores of a beautiful lake in the woods. No one could bother you if you were alone, and since your relationship was not so secret anymore, you needed him in a place that wasn’t the school. So here you were, laying on your back, fully naked on the picnic blanket, with the Wolverine between your legs, enjoying the calmness of the water, the green grass, the crickets singing around, and the cold of the night.

“Privacy perhaps?” you whispered as his eyes locked on yours.

Softly you touched his cheek with the palm of your hand and he rolled both of you over, until you laid on top of him, legs straddling his waist and your arms on his shoulders to sit on his lap. Silence took over, his hands soothing your hips and the marks he left on your body from the intense love-making.

“I’m so happy we took a couple of days off…”

You waited for Logan to say something. Anything. You wanted to continue, to tell him how you really felt. Instead, you decided it was better leaving it like this. Logan gave you a nod, pulling you for a short kiss.

“Yeah. Me too.”

He wanted to say it out loud, but was too scared to do so.

—

2006

After a couple of long years, the school and the team had to learn how to go through the grief and pain Jean left. Logan had a hard time processing it, just like all your teammates, specially Scott, and of course the students. It didn’t stop you from moving on as time went by though, always remembering her for the great person and mind she was. Going forward and keeping fighting is what she would’ve wanted for everyone, even now that a certain cure for mutants was announced to the public.

You tried to continue your life as a professor at the school, training students, leading young people, and you invited and encouraged Logan to do so countless times. Deep inside, you wished it was you the reason why Logan decided to stay and train young mutants - for you to be the answer to his loneliness. That he knew, for once and all, that he was not alone. You got each other, and you could do something about it. Words unspoken said more than anything, at least you thought so.

It was one of those rare nights where you got some time for yourselves, walking around the city after having a nice and calm dinner. Your shoulders brushed against each other while you walked downtown, your hands hiding inside the pockets of your jacket, protecting them from the cold.

There was a lot on your mind lately, thinking about what you two really were. If there was a stronger feeling in between, or if it was solely because he enjoyed your company and that was it. Both had lived enough to know there was a feeling in the middle. It wasn’t just friends with benefits, or co-workers who sleep together three times a week. Something was blooming deep inside you, but you tried to not give it a lot of attention all those years. Still, it felt like it had to be addressed sooner or later, and this could be the time. In the end, you understood each other perfectly. How painful it was, how living longer than anyone was, how you had to leave everything and everyone behind because you were dangerous…

“Have you ever wondered how’d it feel to have a normal life?” your question came out all of the sudden.

“How come?” He looked at you from the corner of his eye.

You didn’t know if his gaze was judging you but you continued anyway.

“Like living a normal amount of years… Not having these things, genes that make us different. Or special…”

Logan suddenly stopped in his tracks and grabbed your arm softly so you could lock eyes together as he asked. “You’re not thinking of getting that damn cure, aren’t you?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why’d you think that?”

“Because I never had anyone in my life, Logan,” you spat, pulling your arm away from his grip. “I’ve been alive for so long but I can’t promise myself a future. A real one. Not anything, it doesn’t matter if I live forever. Every person I loved before perished.”

Those words shook him out of the rough façade showing on his face. Your gaze told a hundred different stories when he studied your face every time. It was like mirroring himself at some point. You were the first person he ever got to know that has lived as long as he has, and maybe it was the sentimentalism, but he tried to push away those wishes of settling down. Of trying to be normal. Because he was not, and maybe, just maybe, you just didn’t accept it like he did. Probably, he was just giving up. But you weren’t, even after hundreds of years of disgrace continuously happening.

“I thought you’d get this, Logan.”

You mumbled, taking him out of his trance.

“Well, I do, in a way,” he said, but sounded more like an excuse for himself.

“Then why don’t you say it?”

“Wha-”

“Just say it,” you repeated and pointed between you and him. “What is this for you? What are we?”

Logan grabbed on your shoulders gently and leaned towards you, stealing a kiss on the sidewalk, a kiss you obliged with a bittersweet feeling for some reason, but then he whispered. “Darling, you’re everything to me now.”

Yet, you smiled and kissed him back, feeling his lips curve against your own. Well, that wasn’t so hard was it?

—

Needless to say, after the last date, your relationship with Logan had evolved to something more domestic, considering you lived together in your workplace. Affection, holding hands, quick kisses were shared now a little more freely, and you had received a couple of jokes and teases from some students and Storm. But it was fine as long as you had cleared your path with Logan, even if he didn’t act like a partner sometimes.

The certain calmness you felt one day disappeared when Logan and Ororo went to look for Scott, who often had these sad thoughts, and since Jean was his partner, it was thoroughly complicated for him to say the least. When Logan and Ororo came back to the mansion, it was not what you expected to see. Jean was alive and Scott was gone.

It hurted you, knowing first hand that their love wouldn’t be anymore. You met both of them when they were so young, becoming something like their mentor when they used to learn how to control their powers and how to fit in this world that loathed mutants to death. Now, the school was something else. It was a big, special place that was not the same without the brains of Jean, or the enthusiasm and leadership of Scott. Things were different, they had to change because the circumstances told so, and everyone had a difficult time adapting to it. One thing after another left you tired, with no option to run away, even if you wanted to. The complicated circumstances and the relationship you shared with Logan were no help either.

While on your way to check on Jean, who was still under observation after a couple of days, you stopped in your tracks when the heavy door of the med bay slid. Logan, looking all out of his daily self and mad, found you at the entrance, and you felt something different emanating from him.

For what you could see behind him, Jean was still asleep, and the Professor called Logan to come back with a serious voice, but he ignored the older man, instead approaching you.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Logan grasped your arm, his tone lower and deeper than usual.

You quickly pulled off his grip and hissed. “What are you talking about?”

“Jean.”

You felt silent. Of course she was anything he could think of since they found her.

“You knew he was controlling her,” Logan went on and your heart skipped a beat.

The look in your eyes told everything but lies. Logan scoffed and walked away, leaving you standing alone under Professor Xavier’s gaze.

“I’ll talk to him,” you mumbled at your mentor before following Logan, trying to keep his pace until he reached his room.

The whole way you tried to keep it professional, greeting students as normally you would, but when you crossed his door it was impossible to continue with the facade.

“Logan-”

“He’s insane,” he snapped, putting his jacket on and taking his bag out.

“Everything that was done was meant to protect her,” you responded calmly as he placed a handful of clothes inside the bag.

“No, you did it because you are disgusting. I bet this is what should’ve been for me if I refused to cooperate with your circus or something.”

“You don’t know what she is capable of-”

“Yeah, well I don’t wanna hear it anymore. This is so fucked up, even for you,” he continued, bag on his hand taking long strides until you were almost touching noses. 

You scoffed, trying to laugh at the irony. “What does that even mean? Do you know how horrible it is to be controlled by the Phoenix inside her?.”

Logan rolled his eyes, not wanting to hear another poor excuse. You continued anyway, looking straight in his eyes before he could leave you hanging with your own words. Exactly like he used to do every damn time when you had an argument. Today, he wouldn’t run away that fast.

“She could kill you in a second and won’t hesitate. For her, we’re nothing. We’re not rivals, we can’t do shit. The only thing we could do was keep her alter ego somewhere hiding inside her mind, or else we wouldn’t be here arguing about something you never witnessed. Because I did and you don’t wanna see that, trust me,” you spat at him. He breathed rage at your words and you knew that it was getting on his nerves seeing the way his hands turned to fists. “And you think this version of her cares for you? Or that she loves you? Jean is gone now, Logan, fucking get over it.”

With last harsh words, you turned around and left the room, closing the door with a thud. 

Logan breathed out. He wanted to scream, hit something, run away… Anything to let it out. He was a reckless mess but how could he react and accept Charles was playing with Jean’s mind? And you fucking knew all this time and didn’t say anything? Were his feelings dirty on him right now? Probably. Shit, he took years to finally tell you the truth about his love and affection towards you. He spent months trying to find the right words just to say ‘I love you’, and still, it seemed it wasn’t enough. The forbidden love he felt for Jean never disappeared, and he felt guilty for it.

—

You walked down to the med bay after calming down for a bit. You only needed to check on Jean for a moment and see how she was doing. Years prior, you had witnessed what the Phoenix was capable of, so you didn’t really question Charles’ methods when it came to hide this dangerous side of her inside her mind. You also thought your words might have been a little harsh on Logan, but it was the truth. He didn’t know who the Phoenix was and, if his feelings for Jean resurfaced after believing her being dead, then it wasn’t on you. As much as you loved him, as much as you tried and somehow managed to move on together, he was so easily dragged to her.

The anger you felt before took over you once again, as you found the metal doors of the lab in debris. Quickly, you made your way inside the room and found Jean wasn’t there and that Logan was lying unconscious on the floor. You knelt down by his side, calling him over and over and touching his face and shaking his shoulders until he finally opened his eyes slowly, coming back to reality.

“Logan, what happened?”

“She… she killed Scott. The Phoenix,” he whispered. You could tell he was a little weak and out of breath.

“You’re lucky she just ran away,” you pointed out, helping him to sit down. His eyes were lost in the mess in the room. Tools were destroyed, test tubes broken, crystal was everywhere, and Jean left the reminder of kissing him, yet again, before she escaped. God, he felt so idiotic.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, looking at you. “Sorry for being a jerk. It’s my fault.”

Taking his cheeks between your hands, you gave him a reassuring look. “We’re gonna find her, okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we’ll find her.”

“Come here, we need to alert Charles,” you said, helping him to stand up.

Inside, you knew he wouldn’t really need your help. He was strong and indestructible like the metal on his skull, but he seemed really taken back, and you decided to stay by his side, holding his hand strongly as a way to say sorry as well. It was kind of difficult to see Logan in that state of mind, confused and lost, and you wondered what had happened back there in the lab as you left him in his bedroom, ordering him to rest for a while.

“I’ll be right back,” you assured him with loving eyes.

Logan nodded, following your figure stepping out the room and disappearing in the hallway.

He let out a breath he didn’t know was holding. His mind was having a hard time and his heart felt like breaking, going in two opposite directions, and he hated himself for that. His fate was always the same: losing people he loved and cared for dearly. So seeing Jean back again was as if god or anything up there remembered he existed and brought her back just for him. Or maybe he was just being selfish because he already had you.

You were everything for him. A couple of years might be just a short glimpse for both of you, but he was able to feel peace and calm next to you, and he was sure you did as well. Because some nights, that was all you could talk about. Logan didn’t mind hearing you for hours, it reminded him he was alive. With you, but his stupid instinct had to act.

It was his fault Jean had left. The kiss, the whole act of embracing each other’s bodies for at least two minutes, and then her breakdown, begging for him to kill her… All of that was enough to bring out the beast inside her. And he felt such a jerk now for following his desires. He already had you. Wasn’t that enough?

His thoughts were interrupted once you arrived again, finding him sitting at the end of the bed exactly as you had left him there. Sensing something different on him, you sat down by his side and rubbed his hand gently.

“We might know where she’s going,” you whispered.

“I’ll go,” Logan said before you could finish.

“I’m not sure if I should ask, but are you okay? You could do some rest,” you suggested, since seeing the redhead was clearly getting some kind of reaction from him.

“No, I need to go,” he said. But Logan could read your face perfectly, and he knew you didn’t really like the idea of him leaving the mansion. You turned your eyes, scanning the room and avoiding his gaze.

You had the need to ask what exactly had happened back there with Jean, but you didn’t want to start a fight either. Feeling Logan’s hand on your shoulder, he leaned to kiss your forehead goodbye. Maybe you were the one who should stay, check the kids, the school…

“It’ll be fine,” he mumbled, voice low and deep, as if trying to convince you, but himself as well. You nodded with your arms around his neck, giving him a hug that felt like some sort of apology you weren’t able to say out loud. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

And how you’d wish things would be fine.

—

The school has been very quiet lately. Too silent even for his taste. At nights like these, he could still feel the vigor and presence of the students running around, grabbing something to eat, planning to go out for a while... Instead, Logan found himself in a place that was mourning. Grieving the loss of Jean, Scott and Charles.

The feelings inside were complicated. He didn’t really feel the same, and the disgrace and remorse of his actions were growing on him. They were still haunting him; every day, every single night. You knew it too. It was impossible to ignore the nightmares each time he woke up from seeing Jean’s lifeless body fall against his own after he gave what she wished for the most: death.

And then, there was you. He noticed how difficult it was getting for you to sleep. You tried to hide your sorrow into your work, studying even more, keeping yourself busy with the school and not thinking about anything else. Since Charles was gone, Ororo took his place and you were her second hand. But you pushed yourself too hard.

Tonight he found your bedroom empty. He didn’t find you on his either, so he went to the place he knew you would be: your classroom. The door was half opened, the dim light of the lamp on your desk barely illuminated the papers on the surface. He found you deeply concentrated reading on something, hands on the sides of your head hiding your face.

“Hey,” he softly mumbled, stepping inside the empty classroom.

You quickly straightened yourself on the chair, wiping your cheeks and tried to look decent for a moment.

“Hey,” you replied back, low voice.

“Come to bed,” he said, coming to stand before you, his hand on your shoulder comforting and soothing you, making its way to the side of your neck. His big palm on your cheek, caressing the skin stained with your tears as if it was the most delicate thing. He took a look at the mess of papers and old books you loved too much to get rid of, scattered on the wooden surface.

“No, I- I can’t. Need to finish these by tomorrow…”

Logan gave you a nod and a grimace before taking your hand, motioning to come closer. You stood up, knowing he was trying to get you out of the work that was consuming you.

He observed every feature on your face, the sadness in your stare couldn’t be hidden. He just knew you too well, just like the palm of his hand, and he wanted to make you forget. At least for a little. You had taken care of him, helped him with your presence and your unique aura, bringing him comfort and peace to his broken mind. He wanted you to be fine. To feel loved.

Logan leaned just exactly to brush his lips with your own, teasing a kiss that he longed too much, his hands around your waist pulling you towards him.

“Can you just let me take care of you?” 

Swallowing hard the knot on your throat, you curled your lips as much as the grief let you. “Yes,” you nodded.

With this, Logan leaned until your lips connected. Your arms around his neck pulled him as closer as you could get, feeling his chest against your own, his strong hands around your waist, softly touching you above your clothes.

Logan slowly walked you until your back hit the desk, hands roaming on your ass down to your legs, placing you to sit down over the loose pages. It might ruin the work a little, but none of you cared. Everything in your head was him, between your legs, running his wet mouth down your jaw, his stubble burning your skin as you gasped gently. Lying on your back on the desk, he began descending down your breasts, unbuttoning your blouse until he exposed you to the cold of the room.

He stopped right on your trousers, and gave you a quick glance. You were so eager, wet already. He could sense it. Your eyes were glowing and you were already trying to catch your breath by just his kisses and touch.

“You locked the door?” you whispered.

“Damn right I did,” he voiced, hoarse and low voice from just thinking of railing you right there and then.

“Then don’t stop.”

At your command, he unzipped your trousers, letting them fall down along with your heels on the floor. He then leaned to take your lips in a sloppy kiss, more urgent this time of feeling you close. You moaned, nails scratching his skin. His calloused hands explored your bare legs and things, creating friction with his hips with slow, controlled thrusts against your crotch. Logan left a trail of kisses down to your breasts, licking and tasting the saltiness of your body.

You urged him to go down where you ached the most, hand tangling on his hair. His hands grabbed the back of your thighs, spreading to him until his nose was almost buried on your panties, smelling and taking the sweetness of your scent, licking softly with his wet tongue over the fabric. A trail of moans and curses left your lips. He pulled your panties aside before diving in your pussy, licking your folds and teasing your hole with two of his fingers.

“Logan…”

His name repeatedly left your mouth like a plea, his fingers now inside you, stretching your walls for him. The noises grew obscene and nasty as he ate you out like a sweet craving he had been denying himself the pleasure for so long.

He was growing hard just by hearing your whimpers, and he needed you. You always were a fucking longing for him. Your words, your intelligence, your beauty… Everything he needed, you had it. And still, he didn’t have any idea of how such a rational, smart woman like you learned to love him so deeply.

You tugged on his hair, hips thrusting up to meet his growling mouth. You were so close, felt almost there where you wanted, but he pulled away before you finished.

Logan unzipped his jeans leaning back, admiring your blissed out eyes and glistened figure.

“Come here,” you begged in a whisper, tangling your legs around his waist.

He let out a low, dirty chuckle, feeling your hands on his boxers, freeing his erection.

“So fucking eager,” Logan breathed kissing your lips, hands supporting his weight at the sides of your head on the desk.

You tasted yourself within the kiss and you moaned at his words, your hand pumped him just enough to feel his pre cum leaking already, lining his dick with your cunt. Inch by inch, he entered slowly so you could get used to his size. Logan pecked your lips gently, kissing your cheeks and the side of your neck to get into your sensitive skin. You tugged on his white shirt so he could remove it and he ripped your bra apart right after. He loved to feel your chest pressed against his own. You gasped but paid no mind, instead urging him to move inside you.

“Shit, Logan please-”

A particular harsh trust caught your breath on your throat. You held onto dear life with your hands on his shoulders. He pounded into you rock hard and deep. So damn deep the desk was shrieking under, papers fell off and the lamp moved at the same rhythm but you hoped it won’t break.

Logan growled, inhaling your scent and tasting the sweat forming on your collarbone, your breasts bouncing against his chest. He felt your nails trailing down his back, and oh, how he wished he could get damn scars on just by fucking you like this. But the view of you, squirming under him, eyes closed, being a whimpering mess… All because of him. He was so insanely in love with your fucked out expression every time.

Your walls clenched, close to the sweet end. Logan felt himself twitching inside your warm pussy and his thrusts were getting erratic and sloppy. He filled you up, reaching his own climax first, hot white ropes of cum painting your insides. Your pussy milked him all the way as he kept spliting you open until you let yourself go, legs trembling around his waist. 

For a moment, you stayed like this, with him kissing your shoulder and caressing your thigh, taking in the aftermath of your intense lovemaking.

“Thank you…”

Your whisper forced him to look up at you. There it was, that loving, sweet gaze you had reserved just for him.

He nodded, palm on your jaw holding you gently. “Of course…”

For some reason, he wanted to voice out for once those stupid three words.

I love you.

Or at least hoped you would do it first.

—

The night was cold under the moonlight, almost freezing. He wondered how he got trapped there, between the messy, withered shrubbery, fog, and the trees of a forest he never recalled knowing. He was alert, senses to the limit in case something might attack him. He felt as if he was being watched, but there were no eyes he could find around. He couldn’t see much like that.

But then a voice started to call his name from afar, claws coming out immediately as he sharpened his senses to find the owner. One, two, three times he heard, trying to find the person who was calling but there was only darkness. His heart skipped a beat when someone spoke behind him.

“Logan…”

He turned on his feet and he felt like dying again. “Jean?”

He withdrew his claws back immediately. The redhead smiled, coming closer until she touched his cheek with a soft hand before pulling away. “How are you, Logan?”

“What-”

“Are you happy now?” she asked, beaming brightly as if they were in a casual conversation instead of the darkness of the woods.

His brows furrowed. She couldn’t be real. She wasn’t there with him. Jean was gone, he had killed her because it was what she wanted. It was her way out to get what she needed; it was the key to her freedom…

“What do you mean?”

“With her… Be careful. You could kill her. Just like me,” Jean whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

Logan stepped back, trying to get away. He shook his head in disbelief, not knowing exactly why Jean was saying this to him.

“No… You’re not real…”

“Everything you love is destined to death and chaos, Logan. You shouldn’t be there,” Jean continued, her eyes switching from her usual tone to a deep black. The ground began trembling under their feet with each step of her, wind building up around. Logan felt truly scared, but somehow he couldn’t run, just stand there as she approached. “All she will know is a life of suffering if you stay. She doesn’t need that.”

“Jean-”

“She doesn’t need you!”

“Jean!”

And then it happened so fast. His claws buried on her chest, the Phoenix disappearing and leaving her to die. Jean collapsed against his body and Logan reminisced about the events of that battle, where he had to choose to be selfish or liberate her from her own demons. Logan wasn’t sure why he stabbed her like this. And when he thought Jean was dead in his arms, she started to call his name again. This time, he heard it far away.

Logan.

Logan.

Logan…

Logan!

His eyes went wide open. And there you were, by his side on the bed, calling for him with a pain grimace on your face. His claws buried on your stomach.

“Logan…” you gasped and he pulled the claws out, but you were already bleeding, your nightshirt and the mattress stained.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry- I-”

“It’s okay,” you managed to say as he caressed your cheek before taking you in his arms hurriedly and quickly made the way out of your room through the halls. “The nightmares… I know, Logan…”

“God, I’m so sorry, please forgive me. Hank!” Logan stood outside the scientist’s door. “Hank, I need your help!”

The commotion caused some of the students to peek from their doors, and Logan waited outside what he felt it was forever under the gazes of the teenagers. It wasn’t the first time he had caused the same accident. The door opened, finally revealing a sleepy Hank putting his glasses on.

There was no need to explain what had happened.

—

“She’ll be stable soon,” Hank informed once he let Logan inside the med bay. “If you hadn’t brought her soon…”

Logan swallowed the knot on his throat, watching your unconscious figure on the stretcher. You already had received blood to cover up what you lost because of the wounds, and Logan’s claws were not minor weapons. His mind was a mess, confusion taking over. He didn’t know how he let this happen. He had nightmares pretty often, yes, but nothing like this.

Maybe Jean was right. Maybe she was trying to warn him about something. Or Jean was just trying to protect you from him. The last one felt more realistic. Logan wouldn’t hurt you, not ever. You talked about how dangerous it was to sleep together not so long ago, but you had insisted on staying. It was the first time something felt so damn real in his dreams and he wished you wouldn’t let him in your room that night…

“She’ll wake up, right?” Logan asked.

“Absolutely,” Hank nodded. “I will need to monitor her vital signs though, hopefully within a day or two she will be normal again… At least she’ll be stable until the wounds heal completely.”

Of course, Logan thought. You didn’t have a healing factor just like him.

“I’ll be right back,” Hank announced before stepping out of the room, leaving Logan alone.

He felt so guilty for doing this to you. For everything. For being the cause of your suffering now. He was a threat and mentally unstable. He was strong thanks to his genes, but he was weak on the inside. He promised countless times to protect you, but he couldn’t avoid hurting you himself. It didn’t matter that it was a very bad dream that felt disgustingly real, he had failed and hurted someone who truly loved. Again.

Taking your hand gently into his, he leaned to plant a kiss on your forehead, wishing it would be just another game from his mind.

But it wasn’t. Now, he had the person he loved the most lying unconscious and hurted because he would let his darkest thoughts consume him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, watching you sleep peacefully. “I should have said it sooner.”

-

PART TWO

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

i said i was gonna read when u edited and now u given me the signal 🫡 let's see if i'm ready to let go of pretty maybank and rafe <😭3 ⬇️

Some gave you that look—you know, the one that said, “Oh, sweetie, you again?”—while others just shook their heads, probably wondering when you would finally stop playing caretaker and start looking out for yourself.

maniacally scribbling down this sentence into my notes bc i am in love with how it flows?? i have a writer-crush on u bc of the way u string together words so elegantly

Brand new driver’s license, barely knew how to parallel park, and boom, you’re getting woken up at like 2 a.m. because your dad’s been arrested.

don't even know if im gonna to even talk about the story atp but one of my FAVORITE things about ur writing is how u add these little specific details that makes the characters come alive !!!

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him wasted or bruised up, but this time felt different. This time, it hit you that this was gonna be your life now.

why did this line hit me so deep???

Now, sitting in the small, stuffy waiting room of the sheriff’s department, you glance around, feeling a knot of tension tightening in your stomach, the fluorescent lights doing little to help, making everything appear sterile and unforgiving.

love the word fluorescent lights, could never learn how to spell it without google

JJ’s next to you, his leg bouncing like he’s got caffeine running through his veins instead of blood. You’re already annoyed, and it doesn’t help that Rafe is sitting on your other side, looking just as pissed off.

THIS IS MAKING ME GIGGLE SO BADLY THE DYNAMIC TRIO

"You wanna talk about sisters too?"

the way i went—

JJ nods, fiddling with his shark tooth necklace, the one you’d given him when he was seven.

u mesh so well with canon events 🩷🙂‍↕️

You glance at the two men beside you, each representing a different part of your world. Your brother stubs out his cigarette, glancing over at Rafe with an exaggerated sigh. He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

thought this man was gonna be nice and offer rafe a cigarette but i guess wer're not there yet

It’s been a month since the nightmare with your dad, and you’ve pretty much been living at Rafe’s new place ever since. Sure, you’ve got your own house, but it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. Rafe’s apartment though? It’s like your little safe haven now. You don’t officially live there, but who are you kidding? Most of your stuff is in his drawers, he’s stocked the bathroom with all your skincare, hair stuff, even a toothbrush. He tried to go all-out, buying you everything, and you kept telling him to stop, but it’s like talking to a wall. You gave up eventually.

so bf of him

“Anyways,” He rolls his eyes, ignoring the way you tried to cut him off, his hand now lightly squeezing your knee, “You were out there showing off, catching wave after wave. I was so fucking annoyed."

why is this so funny LOLL

“You know, it’s funny. Back then, I thought you were just this arrogant piece of shit who was always trying too hard to fit in.”“That’s so sweet.”

im literally gonna miss them sm 😭

Ward’s expression turns cold once more, but there’s a flicker of something—maybe regret, maybe just a reflection of his anger.

FEARRRR

“Let’s go home." You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

such a cute ending <3

FINAL THOUGHTS • i literally am going to miss them so much, it was such an adventure to read this series (and despite how late it is), and with the new edits, i can just see how much you grown as a writer. it's glorious and im so happy to have been there for the ride! can't wait to read more of ur things and also, how the fuck do u write so fast? i blink and there's 15304 different rafe fics out by you??

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - seven (finale)

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛" + "def some little smut during the enemies part and a long story"

word count: 6.3k

warnings: last chapter <3

You’ve been to Kildare County Sheriff’s Department way more times than you care to admit

Being the oldest kid in your family—and somehow the only actual adult—you lost count of how many times you had to drag your dad out of jail between the ages of sixteen and twenty. It felt like a full-time job.

Then there were the countless times you’d been there for your friends. 

JJ, for instance, had been taken in more than once for public disturbances. It was almost a given that he'd end up in that shithole whenever there was a party or some kind of trouble brewing. You knew every officer by name, and they knew you too. Some gave you that look—you know, the one that said, “Oh, sweetie, you again?”—while others just shook their heads, probably wondering when you would finally stop playing caretaker and start looking out for yourself.

But you always showed up, no matter what, because that’s what you did. You took care of your own.

The first time you had to pick up your dad, you were sixteen. Brand new driver’s license, barely knew how to parallel park, and boom, you’re getting woken up at like 2 a.m. because your dad’s been arrested. You were shaking the whole time, gripping the steering wheel like your life depended on it, eyes blurry with tears. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him wasted or bruised up, but this time felt different. This time, it hit you that this was gonna be your life now.

You were stuck.

You remember pulling up to the station, parking all kinds of crooked because your hands wouldn’t stop trembling. You ran inside, still half-asleep, and the officer at the desk gave you this sad little smile. “He’s in the back,” he said, like you didn’t already know.

When you saw your dad slumped over, bruised, and barely awake, something inside you just... cracked. He looked up, and for a second, he recognized you. “Hey, kiddo,” he mumbled, still drunk, still out of it. Back then, there was still some part of him left, some shred of the man he used to be.

You signed the papers, helped him stumble to the car, and drove home in silence while he passed out in the passenger seat. It was the first of so many nights like that. And you knew it wasn’t gonna be the last. When you finally pulled into the driveway, you helped him inside and onto the couch. He mumbled a thank you before passing out, his snores filling the room.

Now, sitting in the small, stuffy waiting room of the sheriff’s department, you glance around, feeling a knot of tension tightening in your stomach, the fluorescent lights doing little to help, making everything appear sterile and unforgiving.

You wish you could be anywhere but here.

JJ’s next to you, his leg bouncing like he’s got caffeine running through his veins instead of blood. You’re already annoyed, and it doesn’t help that Rafe is sitting on your other side, looking just as pissed off.

“Will you stop bouncing your leg JJ?” You grit out, already irritated from waiting longer than an hour.

“Why the fuck did he have to come?” JJ mutters, throwing daggers at Rafe with his eyes.

“JJ, not now.” You put your hand on his arm, trying to keep him from starting something. The last thing you need is another fight.

JJ glares, but his jaw clenches shut. “This is so messed up,” he grumbles.

“Messed up is leaving your sister alone with your drunk piece of shit father.”

“Like I knew he was there, you dumbass?” JJ shoots back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Maybe stop leaving her alone.”

“Oh, here we go,” you mutter, feeling the tension rise again. The last thing you need right now is for these two to start another fight.

Ever since JJ came back to the mainland only to pick you up from Taneyhill, things had been…tense. It was one thing to talk about you and Rafe, it was a completely different thing to see you together.

You know your brother hates every second of it. 

“Oh, but you wanna talk about drunk pieces of shit? How many times did your daddy bail you out?” 

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his fists clenching, “How many times did you make your sister bail you out, huh?”

"You wanna talk about sisters too?"

You shut your eyes, attempting to ignore the way they’re clawing each other’s throats out with tainted insults. It was a miracle they're standing in the same room without killing each other, but you can only take so much. It’s like they’re about to throw punches, right there in the middle of the sheriff’s office.

"Shut the fuck up Maybank."

“Fuck you, Cameron!” JJ snaps, standing up so fast his chair skids backward, “You think you’re better than us?”

Rafe stands up too, stepping closer to JJ, “Better than you? Yes.”

“Don’t act like you’re doing this for her,” JJ scoffs. “You’ve never helped anyone but yourself, you manipulative asshole.”

“That’s enough,” you snap, standing up and stepping between them, pushing them apart. Your voice is shaking with frustration. “You two are going to shut the fuck up or take this shit outside. It’s nine in the morning. I didn’t get a wink of sleep, and I’m not gonna sit here and hear you two bitch it you.”  

JJ glares at Rafe over your shoulder. “We don’t need this asshole’s help. We can handle it ourselves.”

Rafe sneers. “Handle it? Like you’ve handled everything else?”

Your brother lunges forward, but you push him back, your voice shaking. “Sit your ass down or leave, I’m not going to repeat myself.”

They both just stare at you, their harsh words still hanging in the air of this stuffy room. The tension is almost suffocating, but there's no way you’re letting them keep tearing each other apart. You’re exhausted, emotionally and physically drained. The last thing you need right now is to play mediator between them… again.

Rafe finally sits down, arms crossed, biting his tongue—for your sake, you know. JJ’s sitting too now, still fidgeting like he always does, tapping his fingers against the armrest.

"Look," you say, your voice still firm, "We're here for a reason. Let's just get through this and get out, okay?"

Your brother just grunts, glaring at the wall like it’s personally offended him. Rafe lets out a sigh and gives you the tiniest nod, like a reluctant “fine.” You sit back down, feeling a bit of the weight in your chest ease up. Rafe leans in and gently takes your hand, mouthing, "I’m sorry." You give it a little squeeze—apology accepted, for now.

JJ notices but looks away too quickly for you to read him. You know he’s pissed, but at least for the moment, he’s staying quiet.

The minutes crawl by, each one feeling like forever, and finally, a cop shows up at the door, calling your name. The three of you stand up at the same time, and Rafe and JJ follow behind you, silent but close, as you walk down the hallway.

The clanging of barred doors shutting behind you makes your stomach twist, and you eventually end up in a small interrogation room. The officer gestures to a chair, "Take a seat." He heads off to get paperwork, and you glance at Rafe, who’s watching you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You know he won’t relax until your dad is completely out of the picture.

Your brother, on the other hand, leans against the wall with crossed arms, a brooding expression on his face. He's always been protective, even if his way of showing it often led to clashes with others. You wish things could be different.

Officer Malcom comes back with a stack of papers, but before you can even look at them, Rafe’s lawyer, Mr. Johnson, walks in. Rafe's had him on speed dial since the whole mess started, and honestly, he's been a lifesaver. He sits beside you, reviewing the papers calmly, and just having him there makes everything feel a little less scary.

“Alright, folks, let's go through this step by step. The first form here is the petition for a temporary restraining order. It outlines the incidents and reasons for seeking protection.”

“Are these incidents documented with the sherrif’s office?” Mr. Johnson's expertise is evident in the way he examines the document meticulously.

“Yes, sir. We have reports dating back to—" Officer Malcom stops for a second, checking the data, “About eight years ago, give or take.”

Rafe’s head snaps in your direction, brows furrowed, clearly pissed off that this has been going on for that long without anyone doing anything. You try to ignore it, focusing on the papers in front of you instead.

“What happens after I file this?

“Once filed, a judge will review the petition. If approved, a temporary restraining order will be issued, usually effective immediately. Then, there'll be a hearing within a few weeks to determine if a permanent order is necessary.”

“What if he doesn't abide by the temporary order?” 

The officer only nods sympathetically. “Violating a restraining order is a criminal offense. He could face fines, jail time, or both.”

Rafe’s still looking at you, “Does she have to serve him personally with these papers?”

“It’s crucial that he’s officially notified. We handle that part, though.”

Rafe’s lawyer is taking notes when he speaks up again, “If he contests the order, he’ll have the opportunity to present his side at the hearing. Both parties can bring witnesses or evidence. But based on your father’s behavior, that’s unlikely.”

You hope to God he doesn’t. The thought of seeing him again makes you feel like you might throw up. You take a deep breath, hands itching to twirl a piece of your hair.

“How long does the process usually take?”

You feel a hand touch your shoulder, gently tightening the grip around the skin, you don’t have to look back to know it’s Rafe. By now you know the lines and the ridges of his hands as if they are your own.

"The timeline can vary, but typically, from filing to the hearing, it might take a few weeks. It depends on the court's schedule and any potential delays."

You nod, absorbing the information while trying to steady your breathing. None of this feels real. Not the legal stuff, not the fact that this could actually be over soon. As the conversation continues, Mr. Johnson outlines the next steps clearly, discussing what will happen during and after the hearing. 

The officer quickly gathers the papers in his hands, “I’ll get everything started then. Just a moment.”

As he leaves to process the paperwork, a brief silence settles over the room. You exchange glances with JJ and Rafe, both of them entirely too interested of the concrete floor. 

“This is the right thing to do, right?”

You know it is. You’ve known for years, but it’s still hard to understand how it came to this. Your life could’ve been so different. 

JJ nods, fiddling with his shark tooth necklace, the one you’d given him when he was seven. “Yeah. He shouldn’t be able to just...” He trails off shaking his head.

Rafe squeezes your shoulder once more, then lowers himself to your level and plants a quick peck on your temple, “You’ve got this. It’ll be okay.”

Mr. Johnson finally puts his pen away, turning to you, “I’ll stay on top of the filings and keep you updated on any developments.”

This moment is a culmination of years of struggle. It's daunting, but you’re not alone. 

 "Thank you.”

JJ shifts his weight, his agitation visible. "I hate this," he mutters. 

"I know," you reply, not knowing what else to say.

The door swings open again, and Officer Malcom re-enters, holding a stack of papers. "Alright," he says, handing you a pen. "Just sign here, and we'll get this process started."

You take the pen with shaky hands, knowing there’s no going back after this. As you sign your name, you can't help but sigh in relief.

This is a step towards freedom.

Rafe watches you intently, his eyes full of concern. He reaches out, placing a hand on your back, a little reminder that he's here for you. JJ stands close by, his protective instincts on high alert.

After you finish signing, Officer Malcom takes the papers and gives you a reassuring nod. "We'll take care of the rest. You should hear from us soon about the next steps."

You stand up, feeling a little lighter, but the emotional toll of the day still kicks your ass. As you make your way out of the room, Rafe keeps a steady hand on your back, guiding you.

Once outside, the morning sun feels almost blinding after the harsh fluorescent lights of the station. JJ immediately lights a cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling with a sigh. 

Rafe looks at you, his expression softening. "You're good?"

You nod, managing a small smile. "Yeah, I think so. Thank you for being here, both of you."

JJ smirks, though there's a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Where else would I be?”

You glance at the two men beside you, each representing a different part of your world. Your brother stubs out his cigarette, glancing over at Rafe with an exaggerated sigh. He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

“Gotta admit, I never thought I'd see the day when 'Rafe the Retch' would be helping us out.”

A laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it, but you quickly cover it up, turning it into a cough. You’d forgotten about that one.

Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up. “'Rafe the Retch'? Seriously, what the fuck?”

“Ask her,” JJ nods in your direction.

“You called me that shit?”

You bite your lip, “To be fair, I called you worse things.”

Rfe tilts his head, hands on his hips, “Like what?”

“You don’t want to know.”

The three of you start walking toward the parking lot, as you reach the cars, JJ pulls you into a quick, tight hug. “We’re gonna get through this,” he murmurs, his voice filled with determination. 

You hug him back, “I know, Jay.”

Rafe stands a few feet away, watching the exchange with a thoughtful expression. When your brother finally lets you go, he steps closer, “Ready to go?”

JJ looks at you, the concern in his eyes clear. "I gotta head to work. Do you want a ride home? It's on the way.”

You glance at Rafe, then back at JJ, sensing his reluctance. “No but thank you.”

JJ’s shoulders tense, but he nods, trying to hide his disappointment. "Alright. Just... call me if you need anything, okay?"

You smile, appreciating his concern. "I will. Drive safe."

He nods again, glancing one more time at Rafe before getting into his truck and driving off. You watch him go, knowing that things are still far from being okay between the two of you.

You know he’s never going to change his opinion about Rafe, maybe not until he witnesses the changes in him, but you hope that one day they’ll find some common ground. It’s a lot to ask from your brother, you know that, and it’s why you never push him. 

“You sure you’re doing okay?”

You nod, leaning into Rafe now that he stands behind you, “Yeah, just a little tired.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you towards his car, “Did you get any sleep last night?”

"Barely," you admit. "Just couldn't stop thinking about today.”

He unlocks the car, opening the passenger door for you. "Well, now that it's done, you can rest. I’ll even put that bullshit show you like.”

You gasp ready to punch him in the shoulder, but by the time you turn he’s already on the other side of the car, “Love Island is not a stupid show!”

He chuckles as he starts the engine. "If you say so.”

“You watch it too.”

“Only because you force me to,” Rafe counters, a playful glint in his eyes.

It’s been a month since the nightmare with your dad, and you’ve pretty much been living at Rafe’s new place ever since. Sure, you’ve got your own house, but it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. Rafe’s apartment though? It’s like your little safe haven now. You don’t officially live there, but who are you kidding? Most of your stuff is in his drawers, he’s stocked the bathroom with all your skincare, hair stuff, even a toothbrush. He tried to go all-out, buying you everything, and you kept telling him to stop, but it’s like talking to a wall. You gave up eventually.

As he pulls out of the parking lot, his hand slides over to grab yours. It’s such a simple thing, but it makes the tight feeling in your chest ease a little. You’re both quiet for most of the drive, but it’s not awkward or anything. It’s actually kind of nice. You never imagined he’d be so...attached. Things between you are still...somewhat undefined, but it definitely feels like a relationship. That thought is pushed to the back of your mind for now. It's just not the right moment to talk about it—not with his father’s trial only weeks away and your own dad still recovering in the hospital.

When you pull up to his apartment, the building feels familiar in a way that makes your stomach flip. He hops out of the car and, as usual, rushes around to open your door for you. It’s such a small thing, but it always makes your heart race.

Once inside, the place feels so different from the craziness of the day. It’s cozy, warm, and just... safe. You kick off your shoes and flop onto the couch, sinking into the cushions.

“Wanna watch your show?” Rafe asks, giving you that half-smile you’ve come to love.

You chuckle, feeling lighter than you have all day. “And you say you don’t love it.”

He grabs the remote and turns on the TV, navigating to the show. As the familiar theme song starts playing, you snuggle closer to him, finding comfort in the routine. It's all trashy drama and ridiculous contestants, but it’s the distraction you desperately need. Rafe’s arm stays around you, like always. But as the episode progresses, your eyelids grow heavy. The events of the day, combined with the sleepless night, catch up to you. You feel yourself drifting off, your head resting against Rafe’s chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm lulling you to sleep.

“Rest, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing whisper. “I’ve got you.”

Next thing you know, you wake up to the smell of something cooking. Blinking your eyes open, you realize Rafe’s in the kitchen, and the living room is dimly lit. A blanket slips off your shoulders as you sit up, and when you look over, he’s already smiling at you.

You’ve seen him smile more times over the past month than all the years you had “known” him combined. It looks good on him, makes him look younger. 

Stretching, you ask, “What’s all this?”

“Dinner. Figured you could use a good meal,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal that he’s cooked for you.

You sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. “Look at you, Chef Rafe.”

Ever since he moved in on his own, he’s been slowly learning how to take care of himself. You’ve caught him watching cooking and deep cleaning videos more times you can count. You find it endearing. It makes your chest ache, in a good way, to watch him slowly turn into his own person, not the Rafe his father shaped him to be.

He chuckles, giving you a quick forehead kiss. “Eat before it gets cold.”

You sit down, and the first bite has you practically moaning. He snorts at your reaction, but you can tell he’s proud of himself. As you eat, though, you notice he seems a little off. His shoulders are tight, and there’s something in his eyes that makes you pause. You reach across the table, placing your hand over his.

"What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Rafe. What’s wrong?”

He hesitates, then sighs. “Got a call from my lawyer. About Ward.”

The mention of his dad sends a chill down your spine. “What about him?”

Rafe’s thumb brushes your knuckles as he looks down. “He wants to talk.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

Rafe's jaw tightens, and he lets out a slow breath. “Yeah. But every time I’ve tried to stand up to him, it’s backfired."

You squeeze his hand, “He can’t hurt you anymore, you know that, right? You're not the same person you were before," you remind him gently. "You've grown so much, Rafe. You’ve made your own life."

He looks up at you, his gaze softening. The intensity in his eyes is clear—vulnerability, determination, and a deep-seated fear. It's as if he’s silently pleading for your reassurance, for the strength to face his demons.

“You think so?”

It's in the way his eyes become softer when they meet yours, the slight quiver in his lips, the way he holds your hand just a little tighter.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Okay. I…I’ll think about it.”

The two of you finish dinner, the conversation shifting to lighter topic. After cleaning up, you find yourselves back on the couch, the TV playing quietly in the background. 

Everything feels so domestic it pulls at your heartstrings. And it hits you how much you love this, just being here with him.

But you can still feel the tension rolling off him. You turn to him, tracing little patterns on his chest. “You’re still worried, huh?”

He sighs, throwing his head against the cushions, his hand coming up to rest on yours. "Yeah. I’m scared talking to him will pull me back into that dark place.”

You press a kiss to his clothed chest. “You won’t go back there. Not while I’m here.”

He tightens his hold on you, “You know you’re too good for this world. It’s ridiculous.”

You narrow your eyes, “Am not.”

“Yeah, you are, Pretty Maybank.”

There it is. That nickname. “You know that’s so stupid, right?”

He grins, completely unbothered. “You love it.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “I tolerate it.”

He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. “Fits you perfectly.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the grin tugging at your lips.

“If you say so.”

His eyes soften as he looks at you, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hand. “I do.”

“Shup up,” You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Don’t even know how you came up with that shit.”

Rafe laughs, the sound low and rumbling, his hand moving to rub your leg.  “It’s really stupid.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “’Course it is.”

“Remember when we were fourteen, and we were both at the beach for that huge surf competition? You were this cocky, skilled little girl with an ego bigger than the waves.”

“And you were a suck-up mother—"

“Anyways,” He rolls his eyes, ignoring the way you tried to cut him off, his hand now lightly squeezing your knee, “You were out there showing off, catching wave after wave. I was so fucking annoyed."

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. “Oh, so you were secretly in awe of me?”

“Maybe,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “Or maybe I was just bitter because you made me look bad.”

“I made everyone look bad.”

“Okay, Gabriel Medina. You were out there showing off, making everyone watch you like you owned the ocean. All the boys were ogling you, calling you pretty, and you were loving every second of it.”

You smirk, remembering the day. "I was pretty good, wasn’t I?”

“Good?” He snorts, shaking his head as his fingers trail up and down your thigh. “You were more than good, you were unreal.”

"Yeah, yeah, so how does that tie into the nickname?”

“You came out of the water, hair all messy, sand on your skin, but you had this huge smile. One of the boys called you 'Pretty Maybank,' and you just laughed, brushing it off. But I— I guess I remembered it. It fit you.”

You blink, momentarily thrown off, "I...I didn’t know you remembered that."

“You’re kinda hard to forget Maybank.”

Your heart flutters at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it hard to breathe, “Shut up.”

He leans in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, his hand cradling the back of your head. It only lasts a few seconds, before you’re pulling away, mumbling against his lips.

 “You know, it’s funny. Back then, I thought you were just this arrogant piece of shit who was always trying too hard to fit in.”

“That’s so sweet.”

You cup his face, brushing your thumbs across his cheeks, “Hmm. You were always showing off, too.”

“Well,” he drawls, pulling you a little closer, his arms wrapping around your waist, “We both grew out of that phase. Mostly.”

“Mostly,” you agree with a grin. “But I guess some things never change.”

“Yeah,” He doesn't take his eyes off your face, “Some things don’t change. 

There’s a brief silence, filled with the quiet sound of the TV and the comfortable presence of each other. His fingers continue to trace patterns on your hand, and you can feel his earlier stress easing if only a little.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” He admits quietly, “With you.”

“We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”

Rafe’s fingers gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear, “Yeah, we have.”

“I’ll keep you in check, Cameron.”

He holds you tighter, his breath mingling with yours. “You're too good for me, y’know that?”

You laugh, “I know.”

Before you can react, his fingers are dancing across your sides, tickling you mercilessly. You squeal, wriggling and trying to escape his grasp, but he’s relentless.

"Rafe!” You gasp between fits of laughter.

"Say sorry,” he demands, his fingers still working their magic.

"Never!" you manage to choke out, tears of laughter streaming down your face.

He grins wickedly, the movement driving your tummy insane.

"Wrong answer."

You squirm in his grip, the tickling intensifying. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" you finally relent, breathless and giggling.

Rafe stops, his hands coming to rest on your waist. His grin is triumphant, but there's a softness in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat. "That's what I thought," he muses, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You catch your breath, still smiling. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be a tough guy, you’re surprisingly good at this domestic stuff."

He chuckles, pulling you closer until you're nestled against him.

"What can I say? You bring out the best in me, Pretty Maybank."

"I like this," you admit softly. "Being here with you, just... us."

"Me too," Rafe murmurs, his hand gently stroking your hair. "Feels right, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does.”

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

Three weeks later, Rafe finally agrees to visit Ward in prison.

His lawyer arranged the meeting, emphasizing the importance of having this conversation to find closure. Despite your protests, Rafe insisted on doing this alone. Plus, prison's security measures are stringent, and there’s no way you could accompany him inside.

Instead, you’re stuck waiting outside, the anxiety killing you slowly. You're sitting on a bench outside the high-security prison, your foot tapping nervously against the ground.

The sun is blazing, making the wait even more unbearable. You wish you could be in there with him, supporting him. You glance at the ugly building, feeling desperate to get the hell away. Your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts. It’s a text from JJ.

"how's it going?"

You quickly type back.

"he just went in. kinda losing my mind out here."

"he’ll be okay. devil spawn and all yk".

"not helping???"

"my bad sis, just trying to lighten the mood. seriously though, he's got this."

You sigh, putting your phone down and glancing around the barren surroundings. The high walls and barbed wire of the prison seem to loom even larger now. Time drags on, every minute feels like an hour. You find yourself looking at the entrance every few seconds, hoping to see Rafe walk out.

Inside, Rafe is led through a maze of corridors, the echo of his footsteps bouncing off the cold concrete walls. The guards are stoic, their faces expressionless as they guide him to the visitation room. His heart pounds in his chest, but he forces himself to stay calm, to stay focused. He's going to be just fine.

When he finally walks in the room, he sees Ward already seated, the older man looking surprisingly composed. Of course he'd care about his appearance even when he's locked up. There's a glass partition between them, with phones on either side for communication. Rafe sits down, picking up the phone with a shaky hand. He wishes you were here. 

Ward's eyes are piercing as they lock onto Rafe's. "Look who finally decided to visit," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Took you time, boy."

Rafe takes a deep breath. This is it.

"Only came to tell you something."

Ward raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "Oh? And what's that? That you’re an ungrateful piece of shit?”

Ignore him, your voice echoes in his head. He knew Ward was going to try to get a rise out of him and he hates that it might work.

"I'm done," Rafe says, his voice steady. "You don't control me anymore."

“After everything I've done for you?"

Rafe's grip on the phone tightens. "You didn't do shit for me. You did it for yourself."

Ward leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "You have no idea what you're talking about, boy. You need me."

"No, I don't," Rafe retorts, “No one needs you.”

Ward's eyes flash with anger, but he quickly masks it with a calculating smile. "Is that what you really think, son? That you can just walk away from everything? From me?"

Rafe feels a rush of anger fighting it's way up his throat, but he holds it back, remembering your words. He takes another breath, steadying himself, “I don’t care.”

Ward's smile fades, replaced by a sneer. "You think you're so strong now, don't you? Do you think you can survive out there without my influence? The world is a cruel place, Rafe. You won't last a day. You think that Maybank trash is gonna solve all your problems, huh?”

“You’re not getting under my skin.”

Ward's eyes narrow further, and he leans in closer to the glass, his voice dropping to a whisper. "So, it’s about her now, is it? What makes you think she’ll be any better for you than I was? She doesn’t know you like I do."

Rafe’s temper flares, but he forces himself to stay calm. He can’t take the bait.

"Keep her out of this.”

“You think you’re so righteous, so superior. You’ll need more than just some girl to get you through.”

“I don’t need you,” Rafe insists, his voice firm. “I never did.” 

Ward’s expression turns cold once more, but there’s a flicker of something—maybe regret, maybe just a reflection of his anger. “You can pretend you’re free, but you know I’m not so easily forgotten.”

Rafe takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed. “I don’t need to hear anything else from you. I’m done.”

“You won’t be able to keep her safe.”

He knew the conversation wouldn’t be longer than five minutes.

He stands up abruptly, the phone clattering against the partition as he drops it. He doesn't need to hear Ward any more. He turns his back on his father and walks out of the room, the door clanging shut behind him. As he walks back through the maze of corridors, his thoughts turn to you, knowing you’re outside overthinking and ready to hug the live out of him. 

He’s striding to you the moment he sees you. You're still on the bench, trying to distract yourself with your phone, but it’s no use. You jump up, rushing over to him. You’re always so endearing to him it pains him to know he hurt you so badly over the years.

“You okay?”

Rafe’s arms wrap around you, finally breathing normally. His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as if you can protect him from the Ward’s harshness. “I was going crazy waiting out here.”

“Sorry for making you wait,” Rafe murmurs, his voice muffled against your shoulder. 

“I don’t care,” You pull back slightly, your hands moving to cup his face. Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw, feeling the faint stubble beneath your touch, “You did what you needed to do. And I’m proud of you.”

He smiles a small, tired smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “Needed to hear that. Thank you.”

You nod, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “For what?” you ask, leaning into him again. “You did great, baby. You stood up to him. That takes so much strength.”

You take his hand, your fingers intertwining with his as you lead him away from the prison. His grip is strong, his palm warm against yours. The two of you walk in silence for a moment, the only sound the gravel crunching beneath your feet. You glance at him, noting the way his shoulders have relaxed a litte.

“I felt it. Like a weight lifting off me. It’s not completely gone, but it’s lighter.”

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. Your free hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. It had grown so much over the past few weeks. “And it’ll keep getting lighter,” you assure him. 

“You think?”

“I know. You’ll keep needing to stand up to him,” you acknowledge, “But it will get easier each time.”

His hand brushes a stray hair from your face, copying your earlier movement. “And you’ll be here with me?”

“Always.”

Rafe’s expression softens, the hard edges smoothed away by the promise in your words. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

His lips linger there.

“You really are too good for me,” he murmurs against your skin, the sound blending with the hum of the car engines in the distance.

“I know.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. The intensity in his gaze takes your breath away, but it’s a different kind of intensity than you’re used to seeing in him. It’s softer, more open, and entirely focused on you.

“Let’s go home."

You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

[madlori]

Sometimes the delulu IS the solulu.

After some thought, and reading a lot of really insightful thoughts here and on Discord, I think I've reached a conclusion.

I'm going full tinhat. Not in an unhinged way, though.

I don't think this is the end.

I'm not going to count on it. I'm barely going to hope for it. But I am going to...keep an eye out for it.

The one common refrain we've heard from each other is that this did not feel like a permanent breakup. It felt so obviously and blatantly like a setup for Buck to fight for the relationship. It was that "one partner freaks out a bit and the other has to show their commitment" relationship hurdle which is so common it's a trope. In fact, most of us assumed that's just what it was...until those interviews

Now, I do not put Tim Minear up on some kind of pedestal of writerly greatness - far from it. And he did not write this episode, but the plotlines all go through him.

BUT.

He has always been very attached to Tommy as a character and to this relationship. He loves it. He loved red string theory so much that he wrote it into this episode. And I'm about halfway convinced he's in love with Lou but that's beside the point. (I mean, we get it, Tim.)

Tommy's what he always said he wanted to get for Buck. Firefighter, integrated into the 118, yadda yadda, we've been over this a lot. Someone he chooses, someone he works to build something with. Someone who shows up for him. He had Buck SAY in this episode that he'd never felt like this since Abby.

The thread of Tommy wanting a found family like Buck's. The intense settled/caregiving vibe of 8x05. It all felt so...purposeful. And yes, I agree that this could have been done just to punch up the angst for Buck when it ends. But that's not the only explanation.

The many, many comments of wanting to move Buck along in his personal life. Oliver wanting to do settled, domestic storylines with him. Giving Tommy the big hero romcom entrance in that hospital.

And what now? Cycle Buck through another love interest? It's hard to imagine recapturing what he had with Tommy with anybody else, or for the GA to embrace it as much as they did. What little we can see of the GA reaction (because the official socials are weirdly quiet and have not posted) is that they're not happy about this. Tim knows this.

I can buy Tim making some dumb writing decisions but he's not stupid. I find it very hard to swallow that he'd voluntarily toss away all this, and this potential, and what they'd already established, and a pairing/character/actor he loves, for what? For nothing.

So I think that it's not for nothing.

I think the plan IS to reunite them...

...they just don't know when, or how.

For some reason he wants to give it a break for awhile. I don't know why. There could be off-camera reasons. But I think it happened recently. Two weeks ago we got interviews talking about hurdles being overcome, relationships deepening, etc etc. It's a great episode for them, came out of Oliver's mouth. Not important, not consequential - great. And hey, what happened to that very important Bobby conversation where he gave Buck important advice? It wasn't there.

I think a change was made in the last two weeks. And yes, I know the loft stills were dated 9/17.

Two weeks is plenty of time to reshoot one scene, between when those interviews came out and last night. The stills could be from the first time it was shot, in September. Put the guys in the same wardrobe, we'd never know the difference, or that those stills weren't from the scene we actually saw.

OR

The scene was always the one we saw, but was always meant to be temporary, and the change was in how they talked about it in the interviews from last night. That is a simpler explanation, as it doesn't involve reshoots, but it doesn't explain those very incongruous interviews we got two weeks ago that do not match the scene we saw. Now, they have always vagued it up, and talked around things in interviews, but this was an entirely new level of misdirection and outright lying that isn't typical.

I'm really tinhatting it up now, but hey, what have I got to lose? I'm not investing anything in this. It's just...a thought.

If you think the network interfered (I don't, at least not for plot-related reasons, see below) or Oliver demanded the relationship be cut (I don't - I know lots of you are mad at him but I'm not), whatever it was...I just get a vibe. It could be as simple as money. It could be a ratings thing. Honestly? It could be that they've found out they're getting cancelled, and were ordered to cut bait on guest stars. They could be kicking the can down the road to goose ratings for spring when they do bring it back. There are lots of reasons I can think of and probably more that I can't.

I read a thoughtful and reasonable post about how it was more or less a mercy killing to post those interviews - most showrunners like to keep viewers guessing and coming back, so for them to say definitely BT was dead meant it's really, really dead (although how definitive they actually were is another question).

They might be right about that. I don't know.

Or they just might not know themselves. Even if the plan IS to reunite them eventually - if they don't have a plan for how or when, the safest course is to shut it down. No guarantees they can make it work, so play it safe. Oliver and Lou might not be looped in on this.

It's pretty thin. They probably would be, although we have ample evidence of actors not knowing stuff until the last minute. The other option is that they are looped in and are intentionally lying but I think that's very unlikely - although Lou has demonstrated a keen skill in keeping his mouth shut when necessary.

I'm not going to get nuts about this and neither should anybody else. I'm not going to be scouring socials or the internet looking for support or clues. I'm not going to be holding my breath waiting for a sign.

The only thing I'll keep an eye on is how they handle any flirtation or dating Buck does in the near future. How they handle it might be telling.

This is ALL very unlikely, let's be real.

I'm still tinhatting, though. Why not? What have we got to lose?

But if I'm right, I expect that red dodgeball in my inbox toot sweet.

(And Buddie still isn't going canon, btw.)