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littlexdeaths · 4 months ago

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as long as you’re mine - e.m.

eddie munson x fem reader

kiss me too fiercely, hold me too tight…

i need help believing, you’re with me tonight…

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: mentions of the upside down, hurt/no comfort, established relationship, reader is the same age as eddie, soft!dom eddie, oral (fem receiving), unprotected piv sex, cream pie, open ending

based on as long as you’re mine from wicked

a/n: another little repost from my old account while my brain isn’t cooperating. thank you @hippiegoth97 for looking this over for me 💕

word count: 2.7k

Your breath is coming out in short pants, Eddie’s groans mixing with your breaths as he hovers above you. He’s lying between your hips, his own rocking into yours at a soft and languid pace.

Your fingers are laced together above your head, the scratchy material of the RV’s sofa rubs against your bare skin. The feeling is keeping you grounded, knowing you’re here with him. That even just for a moment that it’s just the two of you, that you’re safe.

Despite knowing what horrors await you on the other side of that gate.

The rest of the gang had left you two alone in the RV while they finished getting their supplies in order. Steve gave Eddie a knowing look as he led the others as far away from the vehicle as possible. Eddie flipped him the bird, mumbling a curse under his breath as he shut and locked the flimsy door behind him.

His chestnut hues meet yours, the emotion behind them making that lump in your throat return. You all knew how this night could end, which was why Eddie had convinced Steve to let you two have some time alone.

In case things ended … badly.

Before you have time to utter a word his hands are on you, pulling you flush against his chest. His lips press into yours with a fierceness and urgency you’ve never experienced from him before. Your fingers tangle in his messy curls, kissing him back with just as much force.

“I need you, sweetheart,” he groans, his lips trailing along your jaw.

“You have me, Eddie.”

“No, I… I need to show you just how much you mean to me,” he clarifies as his hands work to unbutton your jeans.

“In case…” He pauses, burying his face further into your neck to take in the sweet scent of your perfume. Searing it into his memory.

“In case I don’t—”

You’re quick to shush him, coaxing his head up to meet your gaze. You cup his cheeks in your hands, his stubble lightly tickling your palms.

“Just be here with me, please?” you plead, his eyes softening as he captures your mouth once more.

Eddie only breaks apart to drop to his knees in front of you. His eyes roam your figure as he tugs down your jeans, lips making gentle contact with your thighs. The brunette continues to press soft kisses to your plush skin as he helps you step out of the denim.

His calloused fingers now reach for the waistband of your panties before glancing up at you again.

“I love you.”

His voice shakes as he pulls the cotton down over the swell of your ass, letting the fabric pool at your feet. You carefully kick them to the side when he rises to his full height again.

“I love you too,” you reply softly.

Your hands reach out for him, carefully slipping the green hunters vest and his leather jacket over his shoulders. Leaving him in his dirty and wrinkled hellfire shirt, the sight of it serves as a reminder of just how much things had changed over the last week.

How both your worlds were turned upside down, literally and figuratively.

Your main concern had been making sure your boyfriend graduated, but now he was wanted for murder. On top of the fact that there was a supernatural creature that wanted to tear your world apart.

To say it had been a rough week was the complete understatement of the century.

Eddie must have seen the far off look in your eyes, as his rough palms cup your cheeks and bring you back to him.

“Hey, now. Stay here with me, angel.”

You nod, smiling when he kisses the tip of your nose. Your hands easily become busy with undressing him again, giggling as his shirt gets stuck. His curls are a wild mess when you finally get the material over his head. That signature dimple making an appearance as he grins down at you.

“I’ll never get tired of that sound,” he confesses.

Eddie lets his hands fall away from your warm cheeks, allowing you to continue undressing him. Your fingertips trail down his stomach, brushing through the hair below his navel before reaching his belt buckle.

“Why do you always have so many layers on?” you tease, pulling down the zipper of his jeans.

Eddie playfully rolls his eyes at you, gripping the hem of his shirt that’s adorning your frame and tugging it up and over your head. It leaves you in only your bra, and your body shifts shyly under his darkening gaze. You aid him in tugging down his jeans, the black denim joining the pile of your discarded clothes.

He carefully spins you around, pressing sweet kisses to your shoulder as he unclasps your bra. You let the material slip down your body, and finally his boxers are the last thing to go.

Eddie begins to guide you to the back of the RV, lifting you off your feet to carry you the rest of the way. A small squeal of surprise leaves your lips, and a deep chuckle escapes his own.

“Lay back for me, sweetheart.” He hums, gently setting you on your feet before you make your way onto the small sofa.

The male groans as you lay back, his eyes taking in every inch of your skin as if he was seeing it for the first time. Eddie kneels on the sofa, lifting one of your legs. He presses soft kisses into your tender skin, his teeth gently nipping at your thighs before he’s resting his face in between them.

He’s eager but gentle with his tongue, exploring you in a way he hasn’t done before. Like it might be the last time he gets to have you. That thought has tears welling in your eyes, but you quickly wipe any trace of them from your cheeks. Grateful that he was a little too preoccupied to notice.

Pushing your emotions aside, you open yourself up to him fully, the male lifting both your legs over his shoulders. Your fingers tangle in those curls that you love so much, your body reacting his actions almost immediately.

Delicate whines leave your pouted lips, when his tongue dips inside you. He eagerly laps up everything you have to offer, his nose nudging against your clit as he devours you. His large hands grip your hips tightly, in an effort to stop you from squirming too much beneath him.

Barely a minute passes with him swirling his tongue around your swollen bud before he lets out a deep moan. The rumble of it vibrates deliciously against your core, causing your legs to tremble around his head. Despite his desire to savor you, to take things slow, it seems your body has other plans.

“Eddie,” you whimper, glancing down to meet his hooded eyes.

The male grins wickedly when he slips two fingers inside your warm heat, curling them up to hit that spot inside you that has you crying out.

And soon you find yourself falling over that precipice, your boyfriend waiting to catch you.

Eddie works you through your high until you begin tugging harshly on his curls, “Baby… come here, please.”

Your voice shakes as you plead, a soft mewl follows it when he slowly makes his way back up your body. His lips press against the dip of your hips, the valley of your breasts, until he reaches your jaw.

His teeth nip lightly before he’s pressing his lips to yours. You can taste a mixture of yourself and tobacco on his tongue, the familiarity making you feel more desperate for him. One of your hands slips between your bodies, grasping his cock in your warm palm.

Eddie whines as you slowly stroke his shaft, preparing to return the favor. But he quickly stops you, removing your hand and lifting it. His dark eyes are filled with adoration when his lips brush over the skin of your knuckles.

“Need to be inside you, sweetheart,” he pleads.

Eddie replaces your hand with his own, rubbing the tip of his cock through your soaked folds. The action pulls another whimper from you as it catches on your sensitive nub, a small smirk of satisfaction crossing his features.

“Always sound so pretty f’me, baby.”

He slowly pushes the head of his cock inside your awaiting heat, your walls eagerly sucking him in.

“Fuck,” he hisses, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he fully sheathed himself inside you.

He buries himself at your deepest point, his breathing coming out in heavy pants when you flutter around him. The brunette eagerly laces his fingers with yours, pinning them above your head. Eddie starts slowly, gingerly rocking his hips into yours.

He doesn’t want to miss a single breathy moan or flutter of your lashes. The weight of his gaze is unwavering as he tries to catch each and every small expression of pleasure that crosses your face. To sear it into his memory, in case he doesn’t have this opportunity again.

Your eyes are already glazed over, fighting to keep them open as you feel every vein and curve of his length caressing your inner walls. When they slip shut for too long you feel his lips at your ear, his curls lightly tickling your cheek.

“Eyes on me, gorgeous.”

His pace increases as you refocus your attention back on him, the sounds of your bodies molding together fill the small RV. Eddie’s cheeks are flushed, his bangs sticking to his forehead due to the exertion of his movements. He looks more carefree and beautiful than ever, your bottom lip beginning to tremble as tears blur your vision.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe,” he hums.

You lift your head up, locking your lips together as the tears spill down your cheeks. The salty taste lingers in your mouth when Eddie begins kissing them away, his hot breath fanning over your face.

“I love you,” you cry out as he begins thrusting harder, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly.

Your back arches, pressing your breasts flush against his chest. His stomach presses against your own, touching where the soft swell of your tummy pushes out just a bit more than usual.

Letting go of one of your hands, he guides it between your bodies to rub at your swollen bud. His thumb brushes over your lower lip before cupping your jaw.

“Love you more, sweet girl, you’re doin’ so good for me.”

Eddie moans deeply when you begin to clench harder around him, his other hand moving to grip underneath your kneecap. He hooks your leg up over his hip and the new angle allows him to go even deeper. Your head falls back against the sofa, grabbing onto his shoulder to pull him even closer to you.

He buries his face in your neck when you feel his cock twitch inside you. Your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm crashes over you, feeling his body trembling above you as he fills you to the brim. But he doesn’t stop, letting you both ride out your highs before he eventually succumbs to exhaustion.

Your eyes flutter open, gazing up at the faux wood ceiling of the RV. You welcome his full weight on top of you as he attempts to catch his breath, tenderly caressing his sweaty curls. A reminder that you're still together, at least for the moment.

You whine when you feel his softened length slip out of you, the brunette chuckling as he presses a kiss to your forehead. He flips you around to drape you over his chest, your legs tangling together. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, the tips of your fingers dance along his skin as you soak in your post orgasmic bliss.

“I want you to have this.”

His voice breaks through the silence and your fingers freeze, from where you had just been tracing the ink on his chest. You glance up at him with a confused expression, as he slips the single ring off of his left hand. He lifts your own, attempting to slip the ring onto your finger.

A small giggle leaves you as it nearly falls off.

“Is this your way of proposing to me, Munson?”

Eddie merely chuckles, before beginning to unhook the necklace from around his neck. His tongue pokes out from between his lips as he struggles to unclasp it.

He slips the ring onto the chain once he manages to get it undone and the metal feels cool against your overheated skin. A shiver passes through you as he clasps it around your neck, the ring and guitar pick now resting between your breasts.

“It’s my way of keeping a part of me with you.”

You immediately lift yourself to press your lips together again, kissing him as if he was your only source of oxygen. Neither of you were quite ready to face the reality that awaited you outside that door. You gently rest your head on his chest, his steady heartbeat keeps you calm.

The comfortable silence doesn’t last nearly as long as either of you had hoped for. As a banging on the trailer door causes you to jump, snapping both of you out of your peaceful cocoon. Eddie groans as Steve’s voice sounds through the door, resting his forehead against yours.

“Alright, love birds! Time’s up!”

You unwillingly untangle yourselves from each other, a flurry of clothes and longing glances as you get dressed. Finding yourself returning to the back sofa as Eddie unlocks the door, feeling that pit in your stomach return once more.

It was time.

You’re sitting between Robin and Eddie on that same sofa only half an hour later.

Your hand is clutched tightly in his own, a makeshift spear resting in his other hand. While his eyes continued to glance out the back window of the RV, your own were focused on his face. Committing each and every detail you could to memory, from the freckles that dotted his nose to the stubble along his jaw.

His cheeks flush once he realizes you’ve been staring, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple. The RV shifts and creaks each time it hits a bump, and a somber silence fills the air. The unknown of what you’re all about to do leaves no room for the usual banter between friends.

The closer you get to Forest Hills trailer park, the more the knot in your stomach grows. It was your job to guard the gate from Hawkins, to help pull them out if needed. While the rest of them risked their lives in the upside down, it didn’t seem fair.

But Eddie had all but insisted on it and the rest of the group agreed, much to your dismay.

When you feel the RV come to a stop you let out a shaky breath, Eddie keeps a hand on the small of your back to guide you outside. The moon shines brightly overhead, casting an eerie glow on his trailer.

You’re the last person inside, so you quickly lock the door behind you. You grab a hold of Eddie’s arm, and watch as Steve, Nancy and Robin begin climbing the makeshift rope. The three disappeared through the gate, and Dustin soon follows suit.

The group waved to you from the other side, and now it was Eddie’s turn to join them.

The lump in your throat has only grown when your boyfriend presses a light kiss to your forehead. He pulls you into his arms, your nails digging into the green vest covering his back. Your hands shake as he attempts to untangle you from him.

“Please come back to us.”

“Us?” He questions, staring down at you with a furrowed brow.

“Us,” you answer, gently grabbing his hand and placing it under your shirt and on your tummy.

A look of recognition flits over his features and that goofy smile you adore tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll always come back to you… both of you.”

He bends down for a moment, pressing a sweet kiss to your belly. Before wrapping you up in his embrace once more, spinning you around.

“You promise?”

Your voice is barely above a whisper, as Dustin’s voice rings through the gate and calls Eddie’s name. The brunette leans his forehead against yours, pressing a reassuringly firm kiss to your lips. Before he pulls away, stepping onto the mattress and grabbing onto the makeshift rope.

The look in his eyes was one of reassurance, and determination.

“I promise.”

#the freak writes 🫧#eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie x you #eddie x reader

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ponett · 8 months ago

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Do you have any advice for people making OCs/sonas? Yours are really well rounded and unique and I'd greatly appreciate the insight of someone who got a passion project off the ground!

So this is a very broad topic, and it varies a lot based on your own creative goals, what kind of characters you're creating, and where you want to use them. Creating an OC to be used in furry pinups is a little different than creating one for a dramatic story. But I'll try to give some general advice on how I do things for the types of characters and stories I tend to work with

Heads up: this will be kinda long lol

The germ of an idea

For me, I'll generally be inspired to create a character starting with a small number of core traits. These could be anything. A color scheme, a body type, a job, a hobby, a personality archetype, an outfit, a visual motif, a functional role in a story I'm working on, a noteworthy facial feature, a weapon, a relationship of some sort to an existing character, a single scene or joke I want to use them for. For furries and fantasy characters, species is usually one of the first things I'll have an idea for, which tends to get the ball rolling fairly easily since we have all sorts of cultural associations with different animals and fantasy creatures.

Any standout character trait like this that you find compelling can serve as that initial spark. The inspiration can come from anywhere, but it's often just a matter of knowing yourself and your own tastes. What do you like? What are the people in your life like? What really speaks to you in a character? What's an existing fictional character that you'd like to rewrite and take in a different direction? What's an aspect of yourself that you would like to see represented more often in fiction? It doesn't have to be something super deep or fleshed out right from the start, though. You can start with something as simple as "I want a black cat character" or "I want a character who dresses like an arcade carpet" or "I want a character who looks scary but is actually nice." Whatever it is, it's something that differentiates the new character from the ones I already have, because otherwise I'd just be using them.

Contrast

From there, you can start brainstorming other traits that might go with those core traits. Some of those may be traits that naturally complement each other. Continuing with the black cat example, maybe you wanna play into the common cultural perception of black cats and say that this character brings bad luck, or is associated with witchcraft. However, I often like to give characters contrasting or even seemingly contradictory traits, which can help elevate a character beyond a stock archetype. Real people tend to be a walking ball of contradictions, after all.

I've talked a lot about how I did this with the main cast of SLARPG. Melody is a fox, traditionally a crafty and untrustworthy predator, but she's extremely introverted and gentle. Allison is a bunny, but instead of being a meek and cuddly little prey animal she's an outgoing fighter who loves a challenge, and she has a muscular build. I think this kind of thing gives characters some fun flavor, and can be really effective for both comedy and drama. For an example from something I didn't write, take Senshi from Dungeon Meshi. He's a dwarf, and he embodies certain stereotypical aspects of dwarves - he's a short, buff man with a big bushy beard, he lives underground, he's stubborn and doesn't like elven magic - but he also goes against some of them. Instead of being an expert on mining and blacksmithing, Senshi is a culinary expert who has a deep appreciation for the natural ecosystem of the dungeon. He's a weirdo among dwarves for not caring about the wellbeing of his axe and for using his super awesome shield primarily as a giant wok. And that's what makes Senshi fun and interesting.

So going back to our example, instead of going with the stereotype, we could make a black cat character who has comically good luck, or who's superstitious and afraid of witchcraft, or who's an extremely rational person who always believes in science over superstition. Or maybe you roll with the bad luck angle, but instead make the black cat be the victim of their own bad luck in some interesting way. Maybe this black cat has terrible luck with love and can't hold down a relationship. Maybe this black cat is an aspiring speedrunner who consistently gets the absolute worst RNG possible in every video game due to their own bad luck. Maybe this black cat has accrued a horrendous gambling debt after a long losing streak and has loan sharks coming after them.

These are all just hypothetical examples, of course. I don't exclusively make characters with ironic contradictions like this. The idea is just to build on those core traits you started with in interesting ways, and that's one of my favorite ways to do so. But honestly, a lot of the time execution is more important than the sheer originality of an idea, and sometimes really putting your all into playing a trope you love straight is the right move.

Specificity

Regardless of what direction I take a character in past that initial seed of an idea, the key ingredient tends to be specificity. To give them specific details beyond the most stock possible version of that core idea you started with.

This is something I internalized from Tim Schafer, via a blog post in the behind-the-scenes backer material for Broken Age. Sadly I'm not sure if that stuff is still available, but I did save this particular post about creating characters since it really helped me, so I'll directly quote a chunk of that post here:

No two characters would approach a problem or react to events in the same way. At least, not if you’ve designed the characters well. If you’ve left them too vague or superficial, if they are merely functional elements in your story instead of individuals, then they might react in the same way. And that’s a problem. So to avoid that, I’m going to talk about one the most important parts of character development: specificity. Making sure your character is a specific individual, not a stereotype. A unique character, different from anyone else in the world. It doesn’t mean that they have to have wacky gimmicks, eyepatches and crazy accents. It just means they have to be specific. For example, let's create a new character. Let's say your story has a scene where your main character gets in trouble in school. So you’re probably going to need a school teacher. Imagine a school teacher for a bit. Do you see her in a little red schoolhouse? Maybe a bun in her hair? An apple on her desk? Thick black glasses? Let’s put a ruler in her hand for good measure. Done! We have our teacher character. She’s ready to be in the scene where our hero goes to school and the teacher sends her to the principal’s office for passing notes. Right? I mean, this character doesn’t have too many lines, so why develop her character any more? The problem is that this teacher is a very shallow stereotype of a teacher. She has no specific attributes that make her memorable. She’s the teacher you would get in a set of free clip art. She might not have many lines, but if all your supporting characters are this way, your story will be more bland than it should be. Even if this teacher is only onscreen for a minute, she should be unique and different from any other teacher in the world. Luckily, it's not actually that hard to make her so. You just have to ask some very basic, specific questions.

Tim goes on to explain how simple exercises like filling out character sheets with basic questions about your character (there are a million of these online) can help push a character beyond a stock archetype, even if it's a minor supporting character. Questions about where they're from, their likes and dislikes, their beliefs, their goals in life, that sort of thing. For minor characters especially, a lot of these details may never actually come up in a story, but just asking even a few of these questions and giving them specific answers helps you see them less like an archetype and more like a real person in your head. Maybe you never bring up your character's backstory or their favorite sport or what kind of music they listen to, but just having a specific answer for questions like that might help color the way you depict that character in subtle ways. It makes it feel like they aren't defined by just that one core trait you started with, and helps make the characters and world feel more alive, like there's stuff going on with them beyond the bounds of the story or the drawing.

It's a careful balancing act, though. It's easy for a character to feel like they're a collection of too many unrelated gimmicks and quirks. Again, like Tim said, these specifics don't have to make for the craziest, most original character ever, there just has to be something there.

Let's go back to SLARPG as an example, where I combined broad character archetypes I liked with more specific personal elements that I felt like I wasn't seeing enough in the fiction I liked. Melody is riffing on the common idea of the reserved healer character in the RPG or MMO party and the shy girl archetype, but she's the main hero instead of a supporting player in another person's story, and she's also a fat bisexual trans woman who draws a lot of little details from my own life. Her interests, her relationships, her opinions on things, her personal hangups and dreams, these all set Melody apart from other fantasy healer characters and define her as Melody Amaranth. Specificity!

But it doesn't always have to be super deep, especially if you just want some characters to draw for fun and aren't planning on writing a story with them. Take my fursona. I've always loved dogs, so I made my fursona a dog. I chose a Samoyed in particular because I think Samoyeds are the cutest, and I hadn't seen hardly any anthro Samoyed OCs at the time. I leaned into the breed's signature fluffiness to help my fursona stand out from other canine OCs. She has simple identifying traits like being fat like me, wearing glasses like mine, and having a hairstyle kinda like mine (when I tied my hair up in a bun, at least). And there you go. Fursona achieved. She's not a wildly high concept character, but she doesn't need to be

Anyway I realize that this is mostly about the writing aspect, so here's a few quick bullet points about designing a character's appearance:

Face and body type variety are good, but personally I would say lack of body type variety is worse than same face syndrome

Knowing some stuff about shape language is good, but you don't have to be completely beholden to the "circles are friendly, squares are sturdy, triangles are scary" shit. I'm generally more interested in using repeated shaping in different parts of a character's design as sort of a shape motif. Melody's body, hair, and tail are all made of round, swooping shapes, for example. (This is more applicable if you're designing cartoonier characters as opposed to realistic humans, obviously.)

Knowing some basics of color theory is also good. I like using complementary and contiguous color schemes on characters and generally try not to use too many distinct colors on one design. Black and white and grey and various browns are good as neutral colors to balance out the colors of the rainbow, and gold can be a nice accent color

A small handful of identifying accessories can be fun, but don't rely on those to make a design stand out. Ideally your character should still be identifiable even when not wearing their default outfit, or even in silhouette

Aaaaaand I'm gonna call it a wrap there! This is a huge topic, so hopefully this helps with at least some of the basics! At the end of the day, though, don't beat yourself up if you can't sit down and force yourself to come up with the most crazy awesome OC ever. Just have fun and be yourself!

#rakruined #ask #slarpg asks

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 8 months ago

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the little princess (g.l.)

Pairing: Garfield Logan x Tamaranean!Fem!Reader

Warnings: None i think

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: If the Titans had a nickel for every time one of Kori's sister's, that she apparently had a very bad relationship with, landed on Earth, they'd have two nickels. Which isn't much but it's weird that it happened twice.

A/N: This is just a little ode to the Starfire that was in the OG Teen Titans show because I just love her so much. She's just a little cutie patootie and I loved all of her quirks and antics. I wanted to make the oneshot a little longer and end with both Gar and her getting together but I realized that it would've been far too long and I didn't want to write all that in the same one-shot.

It was in Dick's poor judgment to listen to the police radio while they were taking the cross-country road trip while getting back to San Francisco. Well, if we're debating Dick's poor judgment, he really should have taken the jet but not like the team could do anything about it now.

They were in Nevada, near Las Vegas when the chatter on the radio went wild. He spared a glance at Starfire, wondering if they should respond but she shook her head. So far, all alerts on the police radio had been insignificant things like disruption of business or public intoxication. Nothing that required their intervention.

So, Dick didn't bother to turn his indicator on for the exit from the highway. That was until they heard something cut through the static, clear as day, "Attention all units, need immediate backup! There's some sort of human flame thrower here! Like that superhero chick!"

They shared a glance and Dick swerved off the road and into the exit, nearly hitting another car in his hurry.

It took longer than it should have to get there, considering Starfire was driving while Dick changed into his Nightwing suit in the bathroom. To say that LVMPD were surprised when an RV rolled up with five superheroes inside was an understatement.

They directed them to the building, the perimeter heavily guarded by multiple officers, all armed.

Once they entered the building, everyone froze, noting how the girl on fire in the middle of the room looked much like the one standing beside them. Her hair was glowing and floating along with her body as she clenched her molten fists.

This never would have happened if they just took the jet.

Before any of them could even come up with a game plan, their target noticed just who was standing there and stopped. When the flames and the nearly blinding glow had subsided, they noticed all that was remaining was a young girl.

"Kori?" She asked curiously, wondering if that was really Starfire or just someone who looked exactly like her. After all, it was a new planet, she didn't know much about the inhabitants here.

"(Y/N)?" Kori breathed out, equal parts shocked and relieved.

The girl's face crumpled, and she broke out into sobs before flying right into her arms, "Kori!"

It was kind of amusing to see Kori attempt to hug you back, considering that you were floating off the ground but once you were consoled, she let you go, and you remained floating a couple feet off the floor at her side.

Kori gestured to the rest of them, and you bashfully hid behind her, scared of the newcomers. Ever since you landed on this planet, they had been nothing but cruel to you. All you had done was use your powers to reheat the tea you were served and suddenly there were men who had pointed weapons at you.

You looked at Nightwing's escrima sticks apprehensively before tucking yourself further behind her back. She spared you a glance before turning to her teammates with a tolerating smile.

"Guys, meet my sister."

"Another sister? Is she gonna try and kill us too?"

"You know Komander?" You asked curiously, floating a bit higher so that your head peeked over Kori's.

"Vaguely." Conner answered and you tilted your head, watching him with a deliberating pout. He seemed a little uncomfortable by your piercing stare, so you averted your gaze before whispering in your sister's ear.

"Are they holding you hostage?"

She chuckled and shook her head before introducing all of them to you by name. You listened attentively, noticing how neither of them bothered to give you smiles aside from the youngest girl and boy named Rachel and Gar.

They had pretty hair. You liked them already.

***

"Another sister you didn't tell us about?" Dick pressed, leaning over the centre console and Kori sighed, running a hand down her face. You were floating in the back of the RV, listening intently to Tim's conspiracies about aliens and attempting to explain your history and more to him.

"I didn't think I had to. I never thought we'd actually have to run into her." She explained and he gave her a hard gaze.

"Yes, but a little heads up would have been nice."

"Well, I didn't know she was going to be here, now did I?!" She snapped and the RV was immediately silenced. She sighed and turned to give the rest of you a reassuring smile and you reluctantly went back to your conversations.

When she was sure they weren't listening, she turned back to Dick, "She's the youngest. After Komander was born without powers, the public and nobles pressed for my parents to have another child. She was born with powers and also the first one in like 5 generations to be born with the power of flight. She's considered a gem in the public eye. She can do no wrong. And she's too young to assume the throne so she's never pressured like Komander, and I were. I'm surprised they even let her off the planet."

Dick cast an uncertain eye on the woman beside him. It was obvious that she had some unresolved issues with you, although he couldn't exactly put his finger on why. From what he gathered, you were pretty delightful and made a cute first impression, unlike the time he met Jason.

"What's this?" You asked loudly, pointing to a hole in their table.

"Um, it's a sink." Gar answered, flustered that you didn't know about its existence, "It's where we wash our hands and dishes and things."

Your face scrunched up, "Well that sounds unhygienic. Can't you just acquire new ones?"

Kori rolled her eyes.

"What are you doing here, (Y/N)?" She asked, finally acknowledging you now that she had wrapped her head around it.

Your brows furrowed at her tone as you flew closer to her, "Maybe I'm assuming but are you perhaps angry with me?"

She scoffed. Of course, you didn't even know when you upset someone. People back home usually jump through hoops for you, so it was no wonder that you had absolutely no idea of other people's feelings or thought that you could do any wrong.

"Yes! What the hell are you doing here?! You can't just come to a planet like Earth and then go around causing trouble!"

"Excuse me?" You asked cautiously, trying to reason with her. You had come here to find your older sister because you thought she would know what to do. The more you spoke with her, the less she seemed like the rightful ruler and more like Komander, "What was I meant to do, Kori'Ander? Our parents were murdered, the crown princess disappeared. People began looking toward me for an answer. What was I meant to tell them?"

She scoffed once again and you were starting to get very irritated by the sound, "Of course, couldn't even run a kingdom for a while."

This struck the wrong chord. You were never quite close with your older sisters; they both considered you the runt of the family and frequently made comments about how you were too young to join them on their excursions. Kori would seem like the doting older sister to the public, but you never really connected.

And Komander hated you since birth.

It was undeniable that your parents treasured you. I mean, how could they not when you constantly strived for their attention. You didn't have any friends growing up and your sisters scorned you when you did nothing wrong, so you depended on your parents for intimacy and connection.

It wasn't rare for you to be floating around the throne room, giggling when your father teased you by attempting to catch you, even though you were way out of his reach.

The people treasured you as well, you realized that very early, when you were first introduced to them as a young girl. You had been hiding behind your mother's gown, intimidated by the sheer amount of people and held her skirt in a tight fist.

You remember your parents cooing at you as they slowly revealed you to the rest of them and then the deafening sound of the crowd cheering. Your parents watched with pride as you began flying to try and see just how many people were there and they cheered louder.

You were adored.

And even though you did want to spend time with your sisters and play with them, you were eventually steered away from them by your parents after you had returned to their room in tears and inconsolable when your sisters had slammed their door in your face when you had just asked to play.

"I'm not the one meant to be running the kingdom, Kori. You are the crown princess. It was your duty to be take over the throne or officially abdicate it. Not mine." You explained, not quite understanding why she was being so negative. This had been her birth right and her path, way before you were even born.

You didn't realize it when you were younger but as you came of age, you understood that your role in the royal family wasn't one of politics or even running the kingdom. You were nothing more than a symbol to the people. Of purity, peace, and hope.

That had been made clear, so why was she suddenly expecting you to take over?

Everyone stared out the window, trying extremely hard to blend into the surroundings. While all of them respected Kori a lot, they all knew that she was impulsive and often said things without thinking them through. While Kori was excellent at giving advice, she herself was awful at controlling her emotions and lashed out often.

Tim began making prayers that they would make it through without something catching on fire.

"I realize that (Y/N)! But you're still the princess in our absence! You should have done something instead of running away and make someone solve your problems for you!"

You gasped, "My problems?! The kingdom that you're the ruler of is my problem? I'm the one who's running away? You're the one who ran so far that you went to a completely different planet! You—You zarbnarf!"

Kori froze, watching as your eyes glassed over with furious tears. Immediately, she regretted speaking to you that way, feeling panic build in her system. It was probably because growing up, she had learnt to grow terrified whenever you began crying around her.

Because you were the golden child. The fragile flower among molten rocks and you were treasured by your parents beyond anything. If either Kori or Komander had made you cry, they usually faced a punishment. That was something that you took advantage of, as an immature, mischievous child. When had you grown up so much?

She wanted to apologize, take it back but her pride was swelling so big in her chest that it clogged her throat. She was still angry and humiliated and all the things she felt as a child began coming back to her.

How could she be so immature? She had no idea what happened on Tamaran, and she had been foolish to think it was still the place she considered home. But it was inevitable for the people to ask about their ruler. She had been running away from the thought for too long.

She had completely forgotten that you were left behind in the chaos.

"You abandoned our family! Our people! And for what? A servant’s quarters on wheels?" You spat, turning away from her. She expected you to throw open the door and fly out but instead you stomped over to the seat beside Gar, not noticing the way he began scrambling to wiggly himself out of the booth and away from you.

He was too slow, and you ended up plopping down onto the seat beside him and he stared apprehensively at you from the corner of his eye.

Kori scoffed, "Why don't you just leave?!"

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms, "I'm done with this conversation but not with you. If your first response to confrontation is to run away, then I can see why you weren't gifted with the power of flight in the first place."

She swelled, puffing out her chest, "You know what—?!"

When Kori realized that you weren't in the mood to talk anymore, she returned to her seat even though she wanted to keep yelling at you. Why did you get to decide when the argument was over? You both weren't on Tamaran anymore and your parents weren't around anymore to scold her for picking a fight with someone so much younger but still, she fumed silently in her seat.

You turned to Gar with an apologetic pout, "I apologize for calling this a servant's quarters. You have a lovely home."

He chuckled at your guilty face, "Yeah, this isn't where we live, we're just using it to get back home."

You gave him a smile, "So you're not feeling hard with me?"

He blushed furiously, ignoring Conner as he laughed quietly into his hand, "Yeah, no hard feelings here."

***

Since you were an "unwelcome" guest in Kori's eyes, you were confined to the couch when you reached the tower. She was expecting you to throw a fit or whine about having to sleep like a servant, but you didn't mind, didn't complain, didn't say anything as you sat silently on the couch.

They didn't know what caused the sudden damp in your mood, you had been smiling the entire trip back, asking questions and making conversation but it was like everything vanished the second you entered their home.

Gar came out of his room in the middle of the night for a snack when he saw you sitting up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest. He thought he would just grab whatever he needed and leave quickly but he heard you sniffle.

"You okay?"

You looked up at him startled, and quickly wiped away your tears before plastering a fake smile on your face, "I am fine. Thank you for asking."

He should have just nodded, giving you an awkward smile before retreating back to his bedroom but he seemed unable to get the apathetic words out at the site of you hiding your faltering smile behind your pink hair.

Superman had kryptonite. He had pretty girls.

"Would you like some ice cream?"

Your brows furrowed in confusion, "Iced screams? What is that?"

He chuckled, finding the way your nose scrunched up absolutely adorable, "Not 'iced screams'. Ice cream."

"Like cold milk?"

"Cold, sweet, hard milk."

You looked mildly repulsed, "I shall decline. Thank you for the offer."

He just breathed out a laugh, sitting next to you with a bowl of cookie dough and two spoons, "Just try it."

You kept giving him cautious glances all while lifting the spoon of the sugary treat to your mouth, watching as he nodded encouragingly and tentatively took a tiny taste (wow alliteration).

Gar had the absolute pleasure of watching your face scrunch up immediately, not expecting it to be that cold but it slowly faded into a small smile at the flavour.

When you had taken another spoon, he glanced at you and noticed your swollen eyes and red nose, "Is everything okay?"

You gave him a small smile and nodded, "I am merely just sick of your home."

He froze in disbelief before reminding himself that you were a literal princess. You were probably very used to luxury and had a literal castle to yourself.

And you're Komander's sister. That part explains a lot.

He shook the thoughts from his head before smiling politely and taking a spoon of ice cream himself when he didn't know how to respond. Luckily, he didn't have to because you continued.

"I know I have been here only a short time, but I miss Tamaran deeply."

The tension in his spine melted away and he slouched with a sigh of relief, "Oh, you're homesick."

You gave him a refined smile, "Yes, I just mentioned about the home-sickness."

"It's not exactly--nevermind."

There was a moment of silence while you quietly ate a couple more spoonfuls of ice cream before Gar spoke again, "No offense but if you miss it so much, why don't you just go back?"

You bit your lip, "My planet is in political instability. I'm unfit to take the throne. So, I vowed to bring the true heir back home."

His brows furrowed, "Why are you unfit to take the throne? You seem smart and powerful."

His compliment had heat raising to your cheeks and you felt a small smile grow on your face before it was dampened by the heavy topic and you sighed, resting your head against the back of the couch.

"My people wish that I take the throne because they see me as a beacon of hope but that is the very reason I am unable. My gift of flight has made me different from the rest of the Tamaraneans, so in a political sense, I have become a figurehead for nobility, equality and neutrality."

He nodded even though he wasn't quite understanding where this was headed.

"Because of this I have been trusted to be a mediator between my planet and others. I am but a symbol of peace. The rulers of other planets trust me because I am not part of the political party on Tamaran. I have never even made my debut into noble society. If I take my place as the ruler, those alliances could fall apart. The common people couldn't possibly understand that."

"So, you're supposed to be this unbiased figurehead but if you acquire any actual power, you think your alliances with other planets will fall apart?" He summarized, wanting to make sure that he actually understood, and you nodded.

"Well, why don't you just tell Kori that? I'm sure she'd understand."

Your eyes drifted to your feet that were folded up onto the sofa, "I was going to, but I lost my temper when she accused me of not taking initiative. She never acknowledged the work I did for my people. I suppose I got defensive."

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving you a comforting squeeze, "It's alright. Second time's the charm."

Your face scrunched up in confusion and he laughed quietly, "I mean, you should try again tomorrow. Maybe it'll go better this time."

"Ah."

"Hey (Y/N)?"

"Yes, Garfield?"

He offered you a small smile, "If it makes any difference, I really do believe that you did the right thing."

You felt the corners of your mouth tug up, "Thank you, Garfield."

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@haniscrying

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

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captain-barnes-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Fallen Petals (Max Verstappen)

part one

Summary: How a relationship wilts and comes to an end.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Warning: ANGST, so much angst, I LOVE ANGST lol, Wordy as hell hehehe, tension, unresolved feelings, implications of cheating, SMUT, sexual content. 18+

NOT PROOFREAD

Word count: 3.6k (oops)

•

2021

Max Verstappen’s shoes and clothes were starting to collect dust in the closet. His towels unused for weeks, his toothbrush next to hers on the bathroom counter. Everything seemed to be mocking her. Everywhere she looked remnants of the man she loved were there tormenting her.

Things were coming to an end and she knew it.

She knew it as she sat on the chair on her usual end of the table. Her in her usual place and his space as empty as ever. Dinner served on the table. Two plates of rigatoni and wine served, plated ever so carefully to make everything special. A small homemade cheesecake for dessert sat in the fridge.

The pink peonies in the middle of the table, two petals had already fallen.

Her phone read 10 pm in her shaky hands. He was supposed to be home at 7. Three hours ago and yet not a single text was sent her way. Not an apology, not even an excuse.

Where are you?

Are you ok?

She could only afford herself to send two messages, feeling pathetic for even worrying for somebody who clearly chose to be elsewhere than with her.

A little scrolling on social media, story after story until came the one to pin the nail to the wall.

Lando posted a story (1hr ago)

Max wasn’t one to really party, or to frequent bars or places filled with too many people. He wasn’t like that. Wasn’t one to not tell her of his whereabouts, even if she didn’t ask, he’d tell her. Lately things had been different, even that was an understatement. They had been on two different worlds, hers admittedly still welcomed him but his did not.

While she knew that his life was much like formula 1, fast, busy and chaotic, she didn’t account for the many times she’d be left behind in the midst of it all.

This was one of the times. Seeing him sitting next to a pretty brunette she knew all too well, of the history of her with the Red Bull team. Of her father, of her last partner. And maybe she found comfort in seeing Lando sitting next to him on the other side, but it wasn’t enough of it. She still felt the tightness in her chest.

Kelly was sitting next to him, not her. Not his actual partner.

In the beginning of it all, it was hard to understand, but she came to see that it came with the territory. His life was fast and their love would have to keep up. She would have to keep up.

But it had become increasingly harder and harder. The missed dates, the lack of texts and calls, the missed opportunities of spending time together. She missed him terribly and he was so nonchalant. Distant even at many times and her heart ached.

His life was chaos and she was his sanity, retaining him to the ground, enveloping him in a love that granted him comfort. At least that’s how it had been at first.

God, but his life relished on speed even outside the track. The chaos would envelop him and he would get lost in it all. In the clubs, the new people he met on the daily. The models and actresses. In the luxury that came with being a successful formula 1 driver. A world champion.

While she was ever so present, he wasn’t. He wasn’t there at all. Not much like before.

Back then he had been excited by a mere message of hers, any interaction that could be as minor as her liking one of his pictures. The little hearts he’d put under every single one of her pictures. The compliments. The flowers that found their way to her doorstep regardless of where in the world he was. The love that could be seen and felt even by those on the outskirts of it. Once visible and true, now it seemed only a shell of it.

Had it worn off for him? She couldn't even ask herself that. Couldn’t think about it or she’d break even more. Her thoughts were already tearing at her, the seams no longer mendable.

She loved him, but she felt suffocated being in his house. In the large dining room where she sat alone feeling pathetic for even bothering to wear a pretty dress. She felt as pathetic as the uneaten plate of food on his end of the table. She wanted to throw it all in the bin, throw the base on the floor. Scream and cry, but she didn’t want to be that person. She wanted to leave with her dignity.

She would leave it all as it was so he could see that she waited for him as long as she could, but that time had ran out.

She looked around the dining room that felt larger at that moment, got herself up as steady as she could and made her way into his bedroom. It felt stifling being in the room where they had made so many memories only they knew. Engraved in their minds forever even while they were apart.

The space looked as empty as ever. His side of the bed no longer smelled like him after more than a month away. So many weeks and his scent no longer lingered the sheets and pillows to bring the comfort she so desperately needed in those moments she missed him most.

Placing a suitcase on the bed, she began to place the few belongings she kept at his place. Her clothes, perfumes, shoes. The toothbrush that always had its place next to his was thrown into the bin. Everything that would warn him that she was no longer taking part in a space that no longer felt hers.

She couldn’t lie to herself any longer. Not when another brunette was always seemingly at the same events he was, even at his side at times. At first she pinned it on her father’s heavy influence on the sport, or the mutual friends that would always unite them in a way that would have them in a room together. But it was becoming more frequent, her being left behind more and more was not a coincidence.

The tears were flowing and she couldn’t pack fast enough. Her blurred vision making it difficult to see what garments she was even grabbing. How bunched up the clothes were in the shallow spaces of the suitcase. Her ears were ringing and she couldn’t even hear the footsteps of the man she adored at the door.

Max’s azure eyes ogled at the suitcase on the bed, the woman he’d cast aside time and time again stuffing the clothes into it.

“What is going on?” Was all he could muster. She flinched and turned around immediately.

Max stood there with his customary blue jeans and white shirt. His hair slightly smoothed back. His eyes were wide watching as the girl’s puffy eyes rolled at his question.

“What does it look like I’m doing, Max?”

“Obviously you’re packing, but for what?” His attitude even off the track could get under her skin at times. This was one of those times when maybe an apology would be a good start. An explanation as to why he didn’t show up once again, as to why their dinner went cold and the candles on the dining room table had died.

“Because this,” She pointed at him and back to herself. “This isn’t working anymore.”

The man couldn’t walk fast enough towards her and grab her by the waist. She whimpered at the intrusion and how foreign it felt after weeks without him. Yet she still looked up at him and met his eyes for what she knew would probably be the last time.

“Max.” She sighed. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. You’ve been gone and literally the day that you’re back you don’t even remember that I made plans for us here. That I told you I would make you your favorite food and we’d spend the evening in, just us two.”

She was fucking crying and she hated it. Hated that a man had her in her feelings like this. But it had been a relationship nonetheless, a good one at times that still had its ups and downs. One that had her experience things she never thought she would.

He was silent.

“And yet you don’t say anything. You don’t give me an apology, an excuse, you’re not giving me anything. I know that you went out with your friends instead, if you could even call that to your newfound friendship with Kelly.”

“That’s not…That’s not it. I’m sorry. I really am. I’m just shocked at seeing you like this.”

She stayed silent too. Waiting for more than just an apology and quite frankly being in his embrace the way she was, she felt uneasy like she was betraying herself and everything she wanted to say.

“My phone died and I couldn’t contact you. They invited me last minute and were hounding me to go, I had no way to get out. You know how Lando is. I told myself I’d leave after one drink and that I wouldn’t eat much so I could come back. But one drink turned into two and I lost track of time.”

“That’s starting to happen quite a lot.” He winced at her comment. He knew it was true. How his mind was dwindling these days. Occupied with tasks, with meetings, with new friendships that had sparked as he traveled to different countries. With his outings, with a certain brunette whose presence became frequent at events.

How small talks progressed to mingling around to stay by each other’s side. How those talks turned into going for drinks, for dinners. It was friendly, he told himself. He knew better than to lie to himself, how there were always underlying motives behind every move and every word shared.

“And you still avoid talking about her.” She tried to push away from his embrace but he was too strong, feeling suffocated with a man whose love was faltering. Whose body she kissed and touched on the very bed they were standing next to.

She looked away from him for the very first time that night and turned her attention to the bed. They had fucked each other more times than she could count there. Made it their own space, their little haven and now it had been weeks since they had laid there together. She hadn’t touched him in weeks and seeing him again made her relieve all those moments again.

Her eyes were still teary, skin hot with pent up anger and disappointment and yet she was still thinking of how his lips were that same pale pink and full, his cerulean eyes wide, his hair so damn soft. And she would be lying to herself if she didn’t wish things were different. That he had come in through that door with his wrinkly smiley eyes and that it would all be pure happiness like many times before.

The thing was that it wasn’t.

Things were different now regardless of how much she still desired him. How she still loved him. How having his mere hands at her waist stirred the butterflies in her stomach. But it was no longer just her and Max. Something had shifted in him lately. Attention elsewhere, mind wandering.

“She’s just a friend.” He reassured, one of his hands had moved from her waist to her face to make her look at him again. His breath hot on her face.

“I saw that she was at your little dinner. Sitting next to you as always.” She didn’t mean to sound so jealous. Surely, she had a right to be, but she didn’t want to show him how much of an effect it had on her.

“I didn’t invite her.”

“Sure you didn’t, Max. I don’t need the lies.”

“You’re my petal. I don’t want anybody else.” Why was he calling her that now. His favorite petname for her, adoring and private just for them both. To calm her down and reel her in again and avoid the topic she wanted to discuss.

“Your petal is wilting, Max.”

She paused.

“You’re not the Max I fell in love with. The old Max would’ve taken Lando’s phone and called me when your phone died, would’ve made sure I was the one sitting next to you, not another woman. My Max would’ve…” Her voice was shaky as she watches his eyes fall to the ground, his hand had fallen from her face.

“My Max would’ve made sure to see me as soon as he landed. You’re not the same anymore and I don’t understand why. And you know what? Maybe I don’t want to know anymore so this hurts less.”

“Fuck baby... I’m sorry for hurting you these last couple of weeks. I’m a shitty person sometimes, I know.”

One of his hands held her jaw softly while his other hand touched her cheek tilting her head to look at him, to see that his eyes were teary too. They stared at each other for what felt like hours, an intense silence ensuing around them. The tension heavy as the couple who’d spent weeks apart were only inches away from one another in a room that held their best moments.

One of them made the move first, maybe it was him or her, it was too fast as their lips met for a kiss that was bruising. Weeks of pent up sadness, want and desire combined their movements of desperation as he clawed at the back of her legs, securing them around his waist.

“Fuck I’ve missed you.” He said in between kisses. His voice hoarse as he walked around the bed and dropped her on it. Still on top of her not wanting to part from her for even one second or he felt as though she’d slip through his fingers. She was letting him touch her, letting him spread her legs apart as his fingers moved the flimsy material of her underwear to the side, finding the little nub that he missed and starting the same rhythm that always had her writhing in his grasp.

“I hate you for making me feel like this.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” His fingers rubbed against her most private part, her slick already coating his fingers as he continued to touch her the way he knew she liked.

“You are the worst.” She was breathing hard as they pulled away from one another, eyes still sad and cheeks stear stained. He kissed the corner of her eyes, her eyes fluttering close as he became the sensible man she missed so much. He kissed her cheeks as though he was erasing the tears he’d caused.

“I am.” His voice was so low as their lips met again. His middle finger had entered her slick and it had been more than a month for her, she felt like she was seeing stars with just his hands. It had been much less for him, but this one really felt like home.

Admittedly his words carried more weight than he could admit. How nights could get so lonely as he traveled to different countries. One was almost always around, sneaking glances and how it had turned into lingering looks and then into so much more as the days passed. But she wasn’t like his girl, no one could ever come close to the actual feeling of home. How home was the girl in Monaco who loved him and kept him grounded, reminding him of what was important in life.

He was desperate to feel more of her. To be inside her. With his fingers pumping inside her for a bit more, he freed himself from his jeans clumsily. The garment falling to the floor along with his boxers, her panties had followed and within seconds his fingers had been replaced with his throbbing member.

He would be lying if his eyes didn’t roll back and a sigh of relief didn’t leave his lips as he felt her warm walls engulf him. She was letting him have her, to fuck her senseless. Moaning below him as he fucked her into the matress with his harsh movements. He hadn’t even given her time to adjust to him again, feeling so desperate to just fuck away the pain and sadness out of them both.

To him this was his way of making it up to her, of them making up and that things would be ok. To her this was a moment of shameful weakness. This wasn’t making up for her.

“I fucking love you, I’m sorry baby.” His hot breath was on her face as he looked down at her. She stayed silent instead maneuvering her fingers to tangle themselves in his hair making their lips meet again in a heated kiss that shared the same tension as that of the movements of their bodies below.

The room in a way felt like before again, didn’t carry that stifling and unbalanced feeling as before. It smelled like sex, sweat and their perfume combined once again. Much like the times before when they finally saw each other again, they always found themselves in this very room showing each other how much they had missed each other.

His movements were harsh. They almost always were when his trips away from Monaco were long. She was a mess below him, moaning into his mouth as he fucked into her harder, his fingers almost bruising at her legs. It was liberating for him this way, for her to feel how desperate he felt to make it up to her.

It was a mess of limbs, a heady of juices falling onto the bed below, of skin slapping against one another. It was all pornographic as best as she felt herself crumble into the pressure that had built itself inside her and washed over her in torrents as she pulled from his lips to cry out his name.

His movements became shallow and less turbulent as his own release was starting to pent up inside him, wanting nothing but to fill her with his cum. When he did, with tense muscles all he could do was groan in pure content as he filled his girl with his heavy cum. It felt like it had been so long without her and he realized how she much he needed her.

He fell at her side on the bed once he’d cleaned her up with a towel. Her little whimpers at the feel of the soft towel on her sensitive area had made him wince at the realization that maybe he had been a bit too rough this time.

But once he’d found his way to nestle to her side, she had gotten up and placed her underwear again. Fixing her wrinkled dress again to its old state.

“What--What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“What?” He said incredulously, his own body pushing off the bed and placing his own garments of clothing back on.

She started zipping up the brown suitcase which had luckily for her not fallen off the bed despite the mess they had made on the bed.

“That was a moment of weakness for me. I know there’s more to what you’re letting on. I’m not letting that go. I know there’s more to you and Kelly than what you’re telling me. Why you’ve been pulling away from me lately.”

“It’s not the distance because we’ve dealt with that plenty. Our relationship wasn’t filled with excuses, missed calls or late text messages like it is now. You’ve been pushing me away and now I’m not the person you’re most excited to see, Max. I see that. Regardless of us having just had sex or not, I wasn’t the first person you wanted to see today.”

“You’re my girlfriend, you’re always the first person I want to see.”

“You haven’t made it seem like that for a while now.”

“It was a mistake. Today and all those times I’ve failed to communicate, I’m sorry. This life is hard sometimes, I get so lost in it at times. You’re the one person that keeps me sane and keeps me grounded.”

“I’m not that person for you anymore, Max. I see it now.” Those little droplets she hated so much and wanted to avoid began falling down her cheeks yet again. With trembling hands she grabbed the suitcase from the bed and began making her way out of the room.

Max felt desperate again. His heart felt like it was clawing at his throat, beating so rapidly as he watched the woman he’d been taking for granted start walking away from him and his life.

He was close behind, following her through the hallway into his living room. Pleading with her as the apologies fell from his lips, his own eyes were watery. He really was losing her for his own stupid choices.

He realized then that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. His garden had began wilting, he’d foregone watering it, the petals fallen off the pretty flower he had once cherished and cared for.

“You’ll always be that person for me. I don’t want you to leave, petal. I really need you.”

She was crying as she continued the short trek to the front door. Hearing him plead for her this way was painful. But there was more to what he was letting on, more to what him and that woman shared and she couldn’t falter. Not this time.

“It’s clear you’ve already found my replacement.” Was all she could bring herself to say without her voice giving out on her. She didn’t turn back to look at him once as she pulled the door open and closed it after herself.

Hope you guy like this angst piece I wrote in a day! Might have its errors here and there but I love angst 🤭 and I also have been really enjoying some Max Verstappen hehehe

#max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen angst #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen rec #f1 #formula 1 #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfic rec #formula 1 fanfic #angst fanfic #max verstappen fic

1K notes · View notes

leclsrc · 2 years ago

Note

can i please request a forbidden relationship with charles? like maybe a verstappen!reader or a wolff!reader? angst to fluff please 😩

name calling – cl16

Charles develops a new nickname, but it's not for you. (wolff!reader)

auds here... i love u anon and i hope its okay that i did not write angst into this!!! i needed a feel good thing to get the trope going. listened to this a lot while writing, one of my favorite cutesy love songs ever!

“There’s peach and apple,” you say over the phone, inspecting the juice box flavors in the well-stocked fridge of the Mercedes motorhome. Apparently, over at Ferrari, the supply is running dry, a report generously provided to you by your boyfriend.

“Is there lemon?” You two have the same favorite. You rifle through the stock and find a lone lemon flavor collecting frost at the back of the pile.

“None.” You say, clearing your throat. “Come on, man. Peach and apple.”

He makes a noise of suspicion, but gives in. “Peach then.”

“Okay.” You tuck your phone in-between your ear and shoulder and collect multiple to find the coldest one, an accompaniment to the heat this weekend; your call is cut short when your dad walks in, eyebrows set in a straight line of contemplation.

They raise when he spots you harboring a bunch of peach juice boxes. “Gotta go, bye,” you add in a rushed whisper, and he says a quick see you thanks before hanging up.

“Dad,” you say casually. You raise one of the six boxes in your hand. “Juice?”

“Is there lemon left?”

“No luck. Peach and apple,” you say sweetly.

“I’ll have apple. Listen, I’m going to a principal’s meeting using your scooter.”

You toss him a box. “Okay. Stay safe,” you respond, letting him pull you into a one-armed hug. “There’s too many people in the centre so I’ve been scootering behind motorhomes to get to places faster. Might help.”

“Okay, spatzi,” he says, punching a straw into the box and departing. This signals a greenlight for you to call Charles again—despite your best mutual efforts, you’ve both been almost caught calling or being near each other by your dad. And, in the words of your lovely boyfriend, he’s not yet ready to die. But the hiding is worth it; after all, it’s hiding from the public, which you both wanted from the get go, and your dad. Your mum and several friends know, which makes the lying ease up a little bit.

He picks up in the middle of the first ring. “Hey. Got my juice?”

“Yeah. Back door.” A routine crafted over years of knowing each other—first as friends, then as lovers—serves you well, a rushed meeting at the back door of a garage or motorhome to discuss date night plans or to hand over a gift or plate of food. In this case, it’s a juice box, half-tossed in your rush to not be spotted by one of your dad’s friends.

And, as always, he blows you a kiss as you close the door.

—

Four sips into his peach juice, Charles sneaks past the Mercedes motorhome and moves back to Ferrari, but not without spotting a mess of long limbs on the ground beside a forgotten scooter. Upon closer inspection, his suspicion of it being a deranged superfan is rejected—it’s Toto Wolff.

“I must have tripped on a wire,” Toto grunts, eyes scanning the ground. He meets Charles’ eyes.

“Let me help you,” Charles says, immediately offering a hand and pulling. The guy is jacked, so he exerts a bit more effort than he’s willing to admit; the job gets done nonetheless, so potato-potahto, really.

“Thank you,” wheezes Toto, sitting up, all six feet five of him, “son.”

Charles is slack mouthed. Oh my God. Son???? “You are welcome, so welcome,” he responds kindly, despite the awkward tension. “Um, Papa.”

Toto pauses his ascent and stares pointedly before shaking his head. “I… must go.”

“Well, drive safe. Watch the roads. And all.” Charles says, laughing sheepishly. “Toto. Watch the roads, and all, Toto.” He emphasizes, like that takes back the fact that he called the big boss Papa just ten seconds ago. He chews at the straw of the peach juice, gnawing nervously.

“I will. Thanks again.” He falls quiet, staring. Then a knobby finger points to the juice box, waving back and forth in-between the juice box in the garbage bin a few metres away. “They’re… your juice box… is that from the Mercedes… motorhome?”

“No,” lies Charles with unrivaled stiffness.

“It is a German brand we special order for my daughter.”

“No—see, I am very into German juice.” He ignores the way it sounds like a euphemism. “What’s that? My phone is now ringing. Okay. D’accord. Au revoir.” He walks away as he makes up additional excuses, not missing Toto’s laser stare that seems to permeate through walls and asphalt, finding reprieve only when he’s back in his room.

He chucks the juice box into the nearest bin and prays to all the gods.

—

Charles ends up getting P1. He’s surrounded by whoops and cheers and receives a very solemn “good effort” nod from Toto across the paddock, which he feels cements his apology and effectively keeps your relationship hidden. He’s handled it well. For once, he’s the mature crisis handler in the relationship, and you don’t need to know about any of this, you really don’t.

You congratulate him at the back door like always, when he’s on the way to the parking lot.

A kiss to his cheek. Then: “I have something to ask.”

“What’s that, darling?”

“Did you, um. Call my dad Papa?”

He presses a palm to his mouth in a very Charles-esque overdramatic way. “Oh my God, he told you?!”

“Oh my God, it’s true?!” You detect the volume in your voice and usher yourself out, quietly shutting the door before facing him again. You raise your eyebrows.

Your boyfriend, your adorably aloof boyfriend, just sputters. “Well—he called me son!”

“Yeah, because he’s old! Old people do that.” You gesticulate wildly “I can’t believe you called him Papa.”

“I can’t believe he told you.”

“I can’t believe you both thought I did not know,” comes a voice from the door that is, unfortunately, not Lewis’ or George’s or yours or Charles’.

The door swings open and there your dad stands, eyebrows raised quizzically, windbreaker-clad arms crossed over his chest. “Charles, I know you don’t ‘like German juice.’ Spatzi, I know you don’t ‘enjoy exploring Monaco hotels by yourself.’” Stoically, he raises air quotes.

“… Sorry?” You offer, smile sweet.

“It’s okay.” He allows a small, warm smile directed to you. “I’ve known a while now.”

“Sorry, Toto,” Charles says profusely, visibly anxious.

The smile chills. Your dad just nods, waving him off. “Cool down on the Papa, though, Leclerc.”

#f1 #leclsrc3000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic

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thepersonperson · 5 months ago

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Gojo kind of sucks at being Megumi's dad but he’s definitely his dad. (An analysis of Gojo and Megumi's messy relationship.)

Notes before we start.

1) Read the light novels. They are the equivalent of Bleach's CFYOW for JJK. There is a fan translation (Book 1 & Book 2), but I will be citing the official translation from my own copies.

2) I will be mainly using the TCB scans for the manga because of their accessibility.

3) Raws are from Mangareader(.)to.

4) Written as of JJK 263.

5) Read the light novels.

(Click pictures for captions/citations.)

Preface

This was written with the assumption you've also read these other analyses:

The Tragedy of Gojo Satoru (aka how to read Gojo)

Gojo's Relationship to Toji

Please give them a quick glance at least.

And Remember Umineko: Without love it cannot be seen.

Gojo Satoru—World’s Most Okayish Dad

There's heavy debate on whether Gojo is a good dad or a bad dad or even if he is a dad at all to Megumi. I will argue the case for Gojo being an ok dad. Not great or terrible. Just ok.

The best way to do this I think is to start off with Megumi's biological father, Fushiguro Toji.

Gojo and Toji Parallels

Toji is objectively the worse father, but Gojo and him have a lot in common when it comes to handling emotions after your wife dies. Gege draws attention to the fact that Gojo is essentially Toji. Both in looks and function.

What fascinates me about this comparison is not only does it visually scream at you “HEY GOJO IS MEGUMI’S SEMI-DEADBEAT DAD”, it also solidifies that Gojo has never gotten over Toji. And perhaps even idolizes him to an unhealthy degree. He’s dressed up as the Ultimate Killing Thing. Toji can kill the unkillable—The Strongest. If he’s more like Toji, he can kill Sukuna.

In addition to foreshadowing the outcome of the Gojo vs Sukuna fight, this also drew attention to the fact these two had been completely dehumanized by Jujutsu Society, albeit in polar opposite directions. Both of them suffered extreme objectification by their clans and the people around them, leading to a general disconnect from others. Their strength is worshiped, feared, and used until it kills them. The difference between them is that Gojo was deified while Toji was demonized.

Since these comparisons appear to be deliberate, I want to examine what makes their relationship when it comes to Megumi and coping with Jujutsu Society.

Breaking the Cycle

When it comes to generational abuse, trauma, and toxic beliefs, a single generation is typically not enough to break the cycle. Often victims can recognize what went wrong but fail to address the crux of the problem and carry a softened version of that toxicity onto the next generation. I think the differences between the Zenin Clan, Toji, Gojo, and Megumi when it comes to misogyny demonstrate this idea very well.

The Zenin Clan operates on misogyny. Women are treated as servants and breeding stock by the men who enforce this hierarchy for their benefit. (Naoya is the youngest of many older siblings because Naobito didn’t stop making his wife have children until his Cursed Technique (CT) was inherited.) Violence towards women is acceptable and encouraged. When Toji broke free of his clan, he also left behind this violence towards women. As a victim of their cruelty, he recognized that inflicting it was wrong.

That being said, I truly believe the main reason Toji didn’t massacre the Zenins was him benefiting from their misogyny as a man. Even if just a little. Naobito offered him an indirect place in the clan through selling Megumi and Naoya respected his strength. As a girl, Maki was not afforded anything and therefore had nothing to lose. The only way forward for her was to burn everything to the ground.

And despite seeing first hand how poorly the Zenins treated women, the idea that they exist to serve men is a mentality Toji still held onto. He bummed money and childcare off women and was content to laze around while Tsumiki most likely handled housework at a young age.

Toji was canonically a decent husband to his wife. He also canonically fell back to his unstable behavior and abandoned his children to gamble after she died. And though I acknowledge this as a tragedy, this too is another instance of misogyny. His wife was his sole source of his emotional wellbeing, a common burden thrust onto women in relationships with men. They’re expected to not only do physical labor in the relationship, but the emotional labor too, essentially becoming a personal maid and therapist. I’m not surprised he wound up this way, he wasn’t really taught how to care for himself.

Compare this to Gojo who is even less of a misogynist than Toji. He doesn’t expect women to do anything for him. His recruiting is equal opportunity when it comes to strength and he has not once disparaged his female students on the basis of their gender. He can even recognize that the Zenin Clan is a bad place for women. His issues are far more subtle—Gojo seems to deprioritize the women in his life, even if unconsciously. Gege has stated that Gojo can never fully be honest with a woman which would explain why he emotionally shut out Shoko after Geto left. It’s not like Gojo is open with men either, but when it comes to admiration, he always thinks of male characters first and foremost.

(It's also kind of telling that his other female student, Kiara isn't anywhere here either. Maki's face being blocked out is probably a coincidence, but it sure visually says something.)

I don’t consider Gojo’s failure to be a good teacher to Maki a part of this. He just sucks as a teacher for everyone. So much so that Gojo had to beg Nanami to mentor Yuji and bullied Miguel into training Yuta. Someone who can’t even use Cursed Energy (CE) is far beyond his capabilities. (Note how Nanami thought Gojo was coming to him for Megumi. This guy can’t even teach his alleged successor properly.)

The main problem is how he treats Utahime. Gojo just straight up makes sexist comments towards her when he bullies her. He doesn’t do this to any other female character so I assume this is done to get under her skin instead of a deeply held belief. Since Gojo is otherwise not sexist, I think this may be a case of not being told this is outright discriminatory. For example, when Gojo is racist towards Miguel, he gets called out, immediately apologizes, and stops talking. Utahime doesn’t do that. She just tells him to respect her on the grounds she’s his elder—the very thing that Gojo is rebelling against.

Still there’s no excuse for this. Unmarried women over 25 in Japan face a lot of stigma as it is, Gojo antagonizing her over that is a terrible thing to do. (Unless this is a case of T4T banter where Gojo’s sexist comments are Trans Inclusive Radical Misogyny.)

I’m not sure where this puts Tsumiki in Gojo’s life. Gege has admitted to fumbling her character in the story. One of the biggest complaints of fans is that it doesn’t feel like Megumi cared that intensely for her because their relationship was hardly shown, so I’m inclined to give some leeway to Gojo here.

Gojo does care about non-sorcerer lives and will go out of his way to ensure their well-being despite otherwise treating them indifferently. When it came to Geto’s family he also took care of the ones that defected because they were important to someone he loves. I have no doubt he made sure Tsumiki’s basic needs were met. There could be a whole unique dynamic he has with Tsumiki that may or may not be expanded upon in the anime or light novels.

But as it stands, he most certainly deprioritized her in his life. To what extent? And was it for being a girl or being weak? Who knows. She’s not in the afterlife airport scene and Gojo doesn’t think about her in death. This could be for a number of reasons. 1) He has no idea she’s dead. 2) He really did just limit things to his high school years. 3) He didn’t care about her at all. My point is I don’t know and he definitely screwed up here.

In all these cases, it seems that Gojo’s problem lies less with misogyny and more with his relationship to strength. Gojo has correctly identified that strict hierarchies are a problem. As an adult he does not tell others to put up with him because of his seniority, strength, or gender. People are free to insult him, smack him, and order him around without fear of consequence. But just like how Toji still sees women as a means to serve him without being violent, Gojo sees his strength as something that separates him from other people without abusing it.

On a fundamental level Gojo stopped seeing himself as a human because of the objectification he experienced as a living weapon. Other people to him are both precious and unreachable. His internal beliefs have him convinced this immense difference in strength means no one weaker than him can ever fully understand him. And once again, just like Toji, this is all related to unprocessed trauma.

When Geto abandoned Gojo, one of his reasons was their difference in strength. Geto straight up tells Gojo this to his face. They no longer can be friends because he’s The Strongest. Geto no longer understands him because he’s The Strongest. Gojo took that to heart it seems. If his best friend won’t be with him because he’s too strong, no one can truly be with him unless they’re as strong as him.

I want to be clear. What broke their relationship wasn’t their difference in strength—it was exploitation at the hands of the higher ups. They kept those two separate and overworked until one of them snapped. Both of them failed to identify their work culture as the crux of their problems. Geto blamed non-sorcerers while Gojo blamed himself and only Jujutsu Society. And in the same way Toji tried to rely on women to fix his problems, Gojo went all in on strength. This is how Gojo can be correct in seeing the higher ups and tradition as a massive problem, while still overworking himself and putting his students in dangerous situations.

But despite all these flaws, Gojo did right by Megumi when raising him. Megumi is a Zenin by blood—misogyny should be present in every single drop, and yet it is not. Megumi is so divorced from sex-based hierarchies that he barely sees gender. When Todo asks a rather sleazy question about what women he likes, his answer is gender neutral and on the basis of them being a good person. He prioritizes the women in his life, respecting Maki as a role model and taking action in service to his sister’s wellbeing. His protectiveness of Tsumiki isn’t chivalrous either, Megumi extends the same prioritization to Yuji since they both meet his definition of a good person.

Megumi has internalized Gojo’s disinterest in hierarchy so much that he has no interest in power either. When he’s made the head of the Zenin Clan, he immediately wants to give the title to Maki. A girl being more competent than Megumi is not something that bothers him in the slightest. Naoya could never. All that money and influence mean nothing to him. People and animals are all that matter to him. This violent cycle of misogyny ends with him.

Gojo also did good by ensuring both Megumi and Maki were never exposed to the feud between the Zenin and Gojo Clans. Megumi is only made aware of it in passing as encouragement for his growth. Since Maki massacred the rest of the Zenins, that generational beef is officially over too. Two violent cycles ended in part because Gojo rejected the strict hierarchies perpetuating the problem.

The only cycle Gojo didn’t break was the over reliance on strength and child labor. He did lay the groundwork to escape it I think. None of his students believe strength means they need to be isolated. They cooperate in combat and appear to be close friends that enjoy themselves when they can. Since the higher ups are all dead and Japan is in disarray, there’s a good chance they can do something truly revolutionary with this if they survive Sukuna.

Gojo sucks at parenting, but it is still parenting.

Demonstrating how Gojo has benefited Megumi doesn’t make him a father. After all, neither Megumi or Tsumiki take his last name and Megumi refers to him as Sensei. There’s also the underlying coercion in their arrangement, Gojo’s aid came at the cost of Megumi becoming a sorcerer.

I put the memories of their meeting side by side for comparison. Gojo's is probably more accurate since it's presented with more details and clarity. But little Megumi seeing Gojo as a strange and annoying aberration says a lot about their relationship.

So, I turn to the undisputed Mother of the Year, Geto, for comparison.

Gege has stated that Geto was a father to Mimiko and Nanako. He outwardly shows affection towards them as family and spends much more time with them However, Geto runs a cult whose aim is genocide and everyone in his cult is a family member. Geto’s daughters do not take his last name and call him Master. They participate in cult activities and murder operations as they were raised to be prejudiced. There’s also the underlying manipulation in how he recruited them at their most vulnerable. If Geto can be called dad despite all this, then Gojo should be too.

Geto is the better parent by far, I won’t dispute that. He pursued motherhood as a means to cope with his mental illness immediately at age 17. As a cult leader he had plenty of time to be a father since he didn’t have a real job. He set his own hours while being financed by donors, allowing him to be more active in his children’s life. Gojo was not nearly as proactive, he picked up Megumi after he started the first grade.

In Japan, children may enter the first grade in April after turning 6, therefore it can be assumed that Megumi is 6 here and the year is 2009 in April or later. Megumi is in short sleeves and the weather looks warm, so the furthest out the date could be is early September. Gojo was born on December 22, 1989 while Megumi was born on December 7, 2002, giving them a 13 year age gap that puts Gojo at age 19. Since Toji was killed in August of 2007 this means there were 1.75–2 years between his final request and Gojo acting on it. It is unknown how long Tsumiki’s mother was absent.

I do not fault Gojo for this since he could’ve never predicted their mother abandoning them. After Geto died and Nanami was in mourning, the higher ups pushed all that extra work onto him. It’s likely that Gojo had no time to pursue this until he forced the issue near the sale date. These work obligations no doubt strained his relationship with Megumi and Tsumiki as their caretaker.

Some think that this absence is proof Gojo is not a father. I think this absence is proof that he is.

An emotionally distant father who works all day, barely has time for you, and is a pain to deal with. Yes he may pay all the bills and give you a place to live, but you still kind of hate him for being an ass. Sound familiar? You probably know someone with this exact dad if he’s not yours. He even has a clear bias for the son he wants to grow up to be just like him! (I'm so sorry Tsumiki.)

But that’s not what truly makes him a dad. Gojo couples his affection with cruelty. The way in which Gojo torments Megumi specifically is unique to him and no other student. With all his other students he is consistently, overly friendly. With Megumi? He bullies him in the way only a parent can.

If you aren’t a parent to a child, perhaps you own a pet that you consider your child. I have yet to meet a pet owner that doesn’t mess with their baby to get a reaction out of them.

And since Gege storyboarded Jujutsu Strolls, this video clip is in a state of probably canon.

I can’t think of anything more dad than deliberately embarrassing your child to mess with their love life.

Fathers like these tend to have children that want to destroy them in some capacity. It can serve as a strong motivation for their growth. Protag with crappy dad they might hate while also seeking validation from them? What popular Shounen doesn’t have this? We’ve got Baki the Grappler, Full Metal Alchemist, Bleach, Hunter x Hunter, etc. (Hey look 2 of those are works Gege is heavily inspired by.)

As stated in CFYOW, JJK Thorny Road at Dawn, Chapter 5: At the End of a Sidewalk, Megumi is motivated the most when he imagines destroying Gojo.

In summary, Gojo fits the typical emotionally distant dad bill. A little bit misogynistic, a little bit racist, and trying to live out his failed dreams through his child who he bullies due to unprocessed trauma. (And holy fudge the amount of anime dads that have a kid specifically to surpass them.)

Megumi considers Gojo family even if he won’t outright state it.

Given how Megumi treats Gojo, it may be difficult to believe that he sees his sensei as anything other than a nuisance. But that's kind of how Megumi treats everyone, including his sister. How Megumi is with Tsumiki specifically can give us insight into his behaviors when he's around family vs non-family. Using her as a reference, it can be inferred how he categorizes Gojo.

Tsumiki (and Yuji) vs Gojo

We know that Megumi values his sister greatly because he prioritizes her well-being above most other people. But this motivation is never directly spoken to another character. Megumi keeps his feelings on the matter so close to his chest that Nobara and Yuji are shocked to learn he even has a sister. I don’t think seeing them together would indicate their closeness either. Outwardly Megumi often treats Tsumiki coldly, refusing her affection and even picking fights with her.

And despite his internal dialogue being less harsh towards her, it can still be quite biting. While he recalls her on the verge of passing out, Megumi refers to Tsumiki as his バカ姉貴 (Baka Aneki) or Stupid Sister. Believe it or not, this is actually affection. Sukuna uses similar phrasing for his mother and this Twitter user explains why that's actually a kindness.

Thankfully, Tsumiki and Yuji can see through Megumi’s stand-offishness for what it is. They’re good people who are willing to look past his flaws so Megumi treats them the same way. In this regard, these two act as a blueprint for reading Megumi. For the people he values most he’ll treat them harshly and barely mention them. His expression of love is unspoken devotion and downplayed admiration.

But without that context, Megumi constantly smacking Yuji and the following passages from CFYOW, JJK Summer of Ashes, Autumn of Dust, Chapter 1: Kyujitsu Kaisen would make you think that he hated him.

All of this is why I believe Megumi's taciturn behavior towards Gojo is his strange way of showing he cares and perhaps as family.

I want to draw attention to the extras where Megumi responds to the question: What is Gojo Satoru to you?

The VIZ translation has Megumi answer: "Well, I guess I owe him my life. I guess…”

The original Japanese is: "一応恩人です......一応"

This is an extremely inaccurate translation as this Tumblr user will explain:

一応 (ichiou) is “for the time being”. 恩人 (onjin) is “benefactor” or “patron”, generally someone that care for his well-being or who he’s indebted to. So it’s “for the time being, he’s my benefactor”.

If we translate back the VIZ version to Japanese, it will be 命の恩人 (inochi no onjin) meaning someone who has saved your life, which is usually used in the context of a literal life-and-death situation. For example when Gojo saved Yuuji from his execution.

Megumi calling Gojo his benefactor greatly downplays all that has been done for him. And his expression is very similar to when he speaks of or around Tsumiki. I think it’s safe to assume Gojo means more to Megumi than he's letting on.

Though Megumi claims he's protecting Tsumiki because she's a good person, I believe there's an additional reason. He owes her a great debt. When their parents abandoned them, she was the one who looked after him first. When Gojo wasn't around to directly care for them, Tsumiki took charge. Megumi's devotion to her is an expression of gratitude for all her efforts.

When Megumi says Gojo is his "benefactor for now", it sounds rather callous. I believe this can be interpreted as something much more benign. In the same way Megumi is returning the favor to Tsumiki, this could be him hinting he plans to one day repay Gojo for his aid.

Gojo is the first person Megumi goes to for help.

Megumi prioritizes Tsumiki and Yuji in part because they need protecting. He sees himself as their guardian and expends a lot of effort ensuring their safety. No such thing occurs for Gojo because he’s The Strongest and the caretaking adult in their relationship. Megumi prioritizes Gojo in a completely different way—he’s the first person he goes to for help with difficult things.

I think this is significant because Megumi otherwise does not seek direct help from others. Sure he'll train with and borrow things from people, but there's a distinct lack of vulnerability he's willing to show.

When Megumi is near death, Gojo’s memory and lessons are his crutch. He does this in his rematch with the Finger Bearer, its aftermath, and before he summons Mahoraga against Haruta. The only other people who have consistently been on Megumi’s mind near death are Tsumiki and Yuji.

And who else grew on the brink of death? Gojo. These two even make the same kind of faces as they flip out during brutal fights. Megumi rarely smiles and its a bit concerning he seems at his happiest when he's in the throes of battle like his sensei.

This could just be a Zenin thing since Maki, Mai, Noabita, Naoya, and Toji will broadly smile when they are obliterating the enemy. But I find it fascinating that Yuji and Yuta did not develop this habit at all despite being personally trained by Gojo. It's possible that Gojo's influence made this aspect of Megumi worse.

What I like the most about Megumi seeking Gojo's aid is how eager his benefactor is to give him whatever he wants when he asks. Gojo is not stingy with his money at all. Megumi’s physical needs are so fully met that he inadvertently shows how spoiled he is when interacting with Yuji and Nobara.

Not only does Megumi recognize higher end fashion, he has strong opinions on it. He also sees Yuji and Nobara react poorly to the price point so he offers to pay a little more. But as you can see, he is so disconnected from average people's money situations that he thinks ~$800 to be put towards a ~$2,500 shirt isn't a big deal.

This indicates that Gojo dotes on Megumi more than other students. Megumi seems to be in such a special category that other characters pick up on it. In other words, Gojo really is acting more like a parent spoiling his favorite child than a teacher here.

Sukuna recognizes how much Megumi values Gojo.

Megumi resisted Sukuna as a vessel by lowering his CE output before the bath. If this affected Sukuna’s ability to obtain his true form post-bath, I do not know. Kenjaku and Yorozu make the claim he could change it, but Sukuna acknowledges full control over Megumi’s body requires Tsumiki being killed first. Sukuna also says that Megumi’s face is better for fighting other sorcerers. He reverts to his true form in his fight with Kashimo, conducting only 2 battles with Megumi’s face on purpose. …If Sukuna is to be taken at his word.

If Megumi’s resistance prevented the change, that means his soul wasn’t completely broken until Gojo was dead. If Sukuna intentionally manifested his true form after Gojo’s death, that means the two were close enough to be used as a strategy in the same vein as Yorozu/Tsumiki. Either reading suggests a close bond on par with his sister.

Why this dynamic sucks for them both.

The tragedy here is that Gojo and Megumi likely never communicated these feelings to each other. If Megumi can’t even tell his sister he cares directly, there’s no way it’s happening for Gojo. And given how Gojo keeps everyone at arms length because of his own personal hang ups, I doubt he’d ever express it either.

Gojo can’t call Megumi his son, that would be a weakness. Megumi won’t call Gojo his father, he learned how to keep his distance from the best.

Gojo’s avoidant attachment style seems to have reinforced it in Megumi. He was already pretty distant with Tsumiki as a young child, but it appears to have worsened with age. He regrets it himself in basically the same way Gojo regrets failing Geto after he’s gone. Megumi learned from the best you know. Her revival after a coma lasting 1 year and 7 months isn’t enough for him to stop doing this either—he continues to play it cool, just like Gojo.

Gojo on some level is aware he has screwed up royally with Megumi. There’s good reason Nanami thought Gojo was coming to him for help with Megumi first. He does try to make up for this in his own little Gojo way. He gets him friends his age, he tries to have him do normal kid activities, he gives him attention when asked.

But Gojo will never be open about why because he clearly doesn’t know how to address his own hang ups or grief in a healthy manner. And unfortunately Megumi has inherited his bad habits like sons tend to do. He internalizes his trauma, seeks no emotional support, and shows no signs of distress until it breaks him.

As an aside, Gojo is posturing here when he pretends nothing is wrong with Sukuna. …But like I’ve said, he’s not the best dad in the world, so him getting lost in the fight and forgetting about Megumi isn’t out of character. It’s just another trait of his that makes him even more like Toji.

(And since Megumi's name means Blessing, this also doubles as them forgetting about their blessing.)

Gojo didn't want any of this baggage for Megumi. He didn't just want Megumi to be strong—he wanted Megumi to be better than himself. During that training session after the baseball game, Gojo tells Megumi not to sacrifice himself so that others may succeed since sorcerers die alone. He recalls this conversation when he dies, making Megumi the first person he thinks about in death.

As shown by JJK 261, Gojo could not follow his own advice when it came to self-sacrificing. He sacrificed his life and body so that his students could survive. This is a part of that cycle Gojo couldn't break himself, but trusts the future generation to do so. He laid the groundwork for it knowing he'd likely never live to see it fulfilled.

And still, Megumi is even more traumatized than Geto. His only saving grace is Yuji’s refusal to give up on him. Gojo tried to be a dad to him and he failed. Megumi is paying the price for that dearly. Their relationship had problems that were never going to be addressed until the very nature of Jujutsu Sorcerer work changed. Gojo didn’t have the time to process his own grief let alone raise 2 children properly because of overwork. Their messy father-son dynamic isn’t uncommon or unexpected. Like I said, you probably know someone with this type of dad if he isn’t yours.

In Conclusion...

Gojo is an ok dad and Megumi is definitely his son. Whether or not they use those labels for each other is ultimately irrelevant. Geto's words to Kuroi Misato, the maid who looked after Riko when no one else would, put it succinctly:

#cactus yaps #I've been working on this for almost 2 months. Finally I can rest.#I have a soft spot for parents that screw up trying their best and loathe parents who have the time/money to be decent and choose not to.#He’s like Chilchuck Dungeon Meshi. Complete with the divorce. He’s an ok dad with unresolved emotional isses.#If Gojo was blood related to Megumi no one would doubt this. Just compare him to…Kenjaku.#I’m not sure if I can touch the parent-child dynamic Kenjaku has with Choso and Yuji because it’s too similar to my parents.#It’s not that it’s triggering for me. I just tend to overshare when it comes to abuse and it’ll probably freak people out.#Anyways I love that JJK is just as intense about platonic dynamics as it is romantic ones.#Megumi cherishes Tsumiki and has a crush on Yuji and they both get his full devotion.#Also Gojo is so insane about looking after his students. But his special behaviors for Megumi... That's his sonboy.#gojo satoru #fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen #jjk spoilers

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chiaraanatra · 5 months ago

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Pogue Boys react to... your self-soothing habit (asking to hold their hand and rub their nails).

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and being overwhelmed

AN: This is a weird self-soothing thing I do. So I thought why not project and discuss how I think the boys would react! This was definitely self-serving. However, let me know if you liked it and want me to do more, I'm open to suggestions/requests!

《 m.list || ao3 》

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐁

John B. doesn’t think much of it, as it all started with you asking to hold his hand. He doesn't notice that you tend to run your fingertips across his nails. What he does notice is that holding his hand will calm you down in an instant. The moment he starts to observe you becoming anxious or overwhelmed, seeing your leg start to bounce up and down and your teeth worry your bottom lip, it's automatic that his hand will slide into yours. He watches as the waves of anxiety seem to wash away and he can't help but love how he's the one able to bring you peace.

𝐏𝐨𝐩𝐞

Pope may be oblivious to most things but he is hyper-aware of any change in your behavior. He is quick to notice that you ask to hold his hand when you are overwhelmed or anxious. At some point a few months into your relationship his curiosity gets the best of him. One day he asks you outright about this little habit of yours, wondering if you were even aware of your actions. When you shy away and apologize he is quick to comfort you, "No don't be sorry. If it helps, it helps." He doesn't ask about it after that, rather, he makes sure he has one hand always available for you to hold.

𝐉𝐉

The first time you grab JJ's hand he takes notice of the action immediately, as he is not used to physical contact that doesn't end with bruises. The contrast of your soft hands against his calloused ones feels so intimate. He's tempted to ask about it. Why do you do it? Have you held anyone else's hand like this, run your fingertips across someone else's nails? How did he compare? But the questions get caught in his throat, fearing that if he asks, you'll stop. At some point, he unconsciously adopts the gesture for himself. He starts holding your hand whenever he becomes overwhelmed with his own emotions, focusing on the feeling of your soft skin and using it to ground himself.

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬

Let's be honest, Canon!Rafe would tell me I'm weird and that need to stop.

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Taglist: @daisydark @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @lillyxlillian @ijustwanttoread @jjsfavgirl @mirellef2001

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

#john b routledge #pope heyward #jj maybank #rafe cameron #john b routledge x reader #pope hayward x reader #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #john b x reader #pope x reader #jj x reader #rafe x reader #obx #outerbanks #outer banks #boys react

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alwaysmicado · 8 months ago

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Sink or swim

12.3k | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 8

WARNINGS: 18+, no outbreak AU, implied age gap, emotional hurt/comfort, flashbacks (toxic relationship, bad mental health), mention of miscarriage & surgery, smut (nothing too graphic), Tommy Miller x f!reader SUMMARY: You reminisce about the late-night conversation that changed your life forever. Joel shares a secret. A/N: Guys, it’s finally here!! This part was hard for me to write, but I’m beyond happy with how it turned out. We learn so much about reader’s past and her relationship with Tommy, and I can’t tell you how excited I am to share it with you. Have fun reading (even though it’s a bit sad) and please let me know what you think! I wanna know all your thoughts!! 🤍 Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics.

series masterlist | main masterlist

The ocean stretches before you like a vast expanse of liquid silk, its rhythmic waves kissing the shore with a gentle insistence. The sun, now in its descent towards the horizon, casts a warm glow, painting the water and sand in hues of amber and gold.

You’re perched on a weathered bench, sneakers softly tapping against the sand, lost in thought as you watch the waves roll in.

Dressed in yoga shorts and an oversized t-shirt, with an ice cream cone in hand and sunglasses shielding your eyes from the brilliant rays of the setting sun, you blend seamlessly into the serene scene before you.

You appear inconspicuous, just another person soaking up the sun and breathing in the fresh air. No one can see the anguish gnawing at your heart, the tumult in your head, or the pain in your hand that makes you want to scream.

No, no, you look far too calm for that, too composed, too happy.

Besides, what would someone like you possibly have to feel bad about? Seriously. You just love to wallow in your own sadness, don’t you? You haven’t changed at all. You’re still your insecure, annoying, unlovable self. God, even your inner voice is irritating. Do you hear how pathetic you sound? Of course he wouldn’t lov–

Shut up.

You focus on the waves as they dance and sway, their melodic rhythm a soothing balm to the cruel thoughts echoing relentlessly in your mind.

The ocean’s song, a symphony of calming whispers and gentle sighs you’ve loved ever since you were a little girl, envelops you in its embrace, drawing you deeper into a state of quiet reflection. The cool breeze dancing through the air brushes against your sun-kissed skin, carrying with it the salty scent of the ocean and the promise of new beginnings.

With a gentle tilt of your head, you take another lick of the strawberry soft serve you bought at the ice cream stand near the boardwalk, feeling the familiar comfort of the cool creaminess dance across your taste buds. It’s been a few months since you last indulged in this particular treat, sharing it with Joel after a rough day at work.

As the cold sweetness melts on your tongue, bittersweet memories of that afternoon flood back with vivid clarity. You can almost hear Joel’s infectious laughter as you scarfed down the icy treat a little too eagerly, his eyes crinkling with amusement at your inevitable brain freeze. But it wasn’t just the shared laughter and playful banter that made this memory so special.

It was Joel’s genuine interest in hearing about your day, about you, his calming presence grounding you and making you momentarily forget all your troubles. He provided you with a warmth that seeped into your bones, a connection that felt effortless yet profound. Like it could be more.

Reflecting on it now, perhaps that should have been a hint that things were more serious than you wanted to admit right from the beginning. Oh well, dwelling on it is futile now. Because you did finally admit it, didn’t you? And not only that, you basically shouted your feelings from the rooftops last night, laying your soul bare.

Fucking embarrassing.

How are you supposed to come back from that? How are you supposed to ever look into Joel’s eyes again?

There’s a reason why you stopped psychotherapy after a few months, there’s a reason why you don’t have any close friends beside Tommy, there’s a reason why your dating life has consisted of a series of superficial hookups over the past couple of years.

“Fear of intimacy,” your therapist called it. “A response to sustained trauma.”

You walked out of that session and, fueled by defiance, decided to fuck the first guy who caught your eye, just to prove to yourself, and to your therapist, that you were very well capable of intimacy.

Lying in bed that night, lonely and empty, you couldn’t shake the truth of her words. You hated her guts for forcing you to confront your inner demons, but she did have a point in everything she said.

It’s an uncomfortable truth.

There’s nothing in the world you fear more than people knowing what’s going on inside your head, knowing what you feel, knowing your vulnerabilities and weaknesses—knowing the real you.

And last night, that fear came true.

Your innermost thoughts and feelings were on display for Joel to see, leaving you exposed and raw. The memory of your outburst, of his shocked face, weighs heavily on your mind and heart, filling you with a deep sense of shame and regret.

For a moment in that bathroom, you felt yourself transported back to all the times you’d scream at Simon for whatever he did to fuck with your feelings that day, just for him to laugh in your face or call you manipulative when you’d inevitably start crying tears of hurt and frustration.

Does Joel see you differently now, knowing the depths of your insecurities? Will he even want to look you in the eye after witnessing what the real you is like? Have you lost your chance with him, and, did you ever even have one?

You sigh deeply and lick around the top of the ice cream cone to catch the drops threatening to run down, humming at the deliciousness.

You haven’t eaten anything else today, too nauseous from your meds and the knot in the pit of your stomach to find food appetizing. You haven’t slept for more than two consecutive hours, too agitated to find any real peace. You also couldn’t stay home this morning, as your apartment suddenly felt like a cage threatening to suffocate you.

Instead, you’ve spent your day off window shopping, aimlessly wandering from one coffee shop to another, your hands now jittery from too much caffeine on an empty stomach. You’ve ambled down the boardwalk, taking in the sights and sounds surrounding you, before finding yourself drawn to the familiar comfort of the ocean.

From the corner of your eye, you catch the display on your phone lighting up with Joel’s name, the device resting on the bench beside you alongside your bag.

You know you’ll have to take his calls and talk to him like an adult at some point. And you will. But this moment, this moment right here, belongs to you and your thoughts alone.

And to the hermit crab making its way through the sand just a few feet away from you. Your lips curl into a smile as you watch the determined little creature, impressed by its resilience in such an unforgiving world. Maybe you would’ve been happier if you’d been born as a hermit crab. Who knows.

As you swallow the last bit of your cone and lean back, feeling the sun’s gentle warmth on your skin, you can’t help but think of the first time you found yourself on this bench, watching the sunset. It feels like that was an entire lifetime ago, and yet, you vividly remember the overwhelming exhaustion that weighed you down, the sense of loneliness that engulfed you—how utterly lost you felt.

You allow your thoughts to drift, captivated by the soothing cadence of the waves lapping against the shore.

Three years earlier

The sun is down.

Staring into the void, you’re consumed by solitude, the cool breeze coming from the water a thin barrier against the weight pressing on your shoulders. The world seems distant, the murmur of the ocean a mere backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your troubled mind and the beat of your empty heart.

This is it. This is where you were always supposed to be.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, quietly drifting through the corners of your memory. With each passing moment, you meticulously comb through the fragments of the past few months. They offer no solace, only a stark reminder of how you reached this point.

In the stillness of the evening, you find a strange sense of calm, a numbness that dulls the edges of your emotions. Tears refuse to come, leaving only the echo of relief at the resolution of it all.

You open your eyes again, fixating on the endless mirror of the sky before you. The ocean has always held a special place in your heart. The salty tang in the air, the rhythmic melody of the waves, the laughter of birds mingling with the gentle lull of the breeze—everything.

You dig your naked toes into the sand, relishing the connection to the earth beneath you. The sensation is grounding, peaceful, almost–

“Hey there, sweetheart. Is everything okay?”

A man’s voice, rugged yet gentle, breaks through the silence, interrupting your thoughts. His words dance in the air, pulling you reluctantly back to the present.

Are you kidding me?

With a slow and deliberate movement, you lift your gaze from the horizon, meeting the eyes of the stranger who has disrupted the sanctuary of your thoughts. You rest your elbows on your knees and sigh deeply.

“Oh my fucking god,” you murmur, rubbing your temples in annoyance and disbelief. “The sun’s been down for two minutes, and the first creep’s already here.”

“Wha–”

You look up at him. “Do you have like a radar or something where you get a notification every time a woman sits alone on a bench somewhere?”

The dark-haired man blinks in surprise, his expression caught between confusion and amusement. His brow furrows, his mouth slightly agape as he processes your words. After a moment of absorbing your outlandish accusation, his lips curve into a wry smile.

“Darlin’, I’m just–”

“Look, dude. If you’re here to murder me, could you at least spare me the whole blah blah you’ve got planned and just do it? Thank you.”

You look at him with a raised eyebrow, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He’s not entirely sure if you’re joking, but your sarcastic tone tells him you’re at least not scared of him.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I assure you I got no such plans. Just thought I’d check in on a fellow soul contemplating the mysteries of the universe.”

You roll your eyes, unimpressed by his attempt at humor. “Yeah, well, I prefer to contemplate in peace.”

When he doesn’t budge and just…stares at you with those big, dark eyes of his, you take a moment to size him up.

Your gaze drifts down from his eyes, tracing the contours of his muscular chest visible beneath a fitted white t-shirt. It lingers briefly on the obnoxiously large belt buckle adorning his waist, then travels down the length of his denim-clad legs to his cowboy boots. Despite the surreal encounter, you can’t help but notice how incredibly attractive he is.

God, what’s wrong with you?

“Look, sweetheart,” he says calmly, his voice a blend of warmth and reassurance. “I’m not trying to get into your business or anything, but it’s gonna get pretty chilly out here soon.” He tilts his head and studies your face. “Do you have somewhere to stay?” he asks. “We could go grab a bite to eat if you want, and my place is right arou–”

“How subtle,” you scoff, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I’m not going home with you, dude.”

“Fair enough, but at least let me call you a cab and wait with you until it arrives, hm?”

His soft voice and patronizing tone are starting to grate on your already frayed nerves. You’ve been sitting here, not taking up any space, minding your own fucking business, and even that wasn’t good enough, apparently.

Okay, world. Hint taken.

“What the hell is your problem?” you blurt out.

“What do you mean? I’m just–I’m trying to help you.”

“Why?” The question bursts from your lips like a dam breaking under pressure, laced with frustration. “Do you see me holding up a sign where I’m asking for your help? Huh? Or is this more about you and some, I dunno, bullshit white knight fantasy you’re acting out?”

Your eyes narrow, fixing on him with a challenging glare, daring him to justify his intrusion into your solitude.

“No,” he responds calmly, his furrowed brow adding gravity to his words. “It’s because I’ve seen enough shit in my life to recognize when someone’s in need.”

The sincerity in his gaze catches you off guard, rendering you momentarily speechless. It’s as if this…stranger is peering into the depths of your soul, seeing past the walls you’ve erected to protect yourself.

His face softens, the lines around his eyes relaxing as he meets yours. “Mind if I take a seat?”

You shrug indifferently, though a flicker of curiosity dances behind your eyes. “Suit yourself.”

He smiles warmly as he settles beside you. “I’m Tommy, by the way,” he offers, extending a hand. You hesitate for a moment, but eventually, you decide to reciprocate by telling him your name and shaking his hand with a soft sigh.

As his hand envelops yours, there’s a brief surge of something unspoken deep inside you, a connection allowing two disparate souls to briefly intertwine before returning to their separate paths again as soon as he lets go.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, darlin’,” he says with a twinkle in his eye, his mustache curling slightly as he smiles at you.

The faint scent of his cologne drifts towards you, mixing with the salty aroma of the sea air. As you gaze at him, your eyes trace the lines etched around his eyes and mouth, evidence of a life fully lived. Strangely, there’s something comforting about his presence, something that makes you feel a little less alone.

You give him a subtle smile before turning your head back towards the ocean, mesmerized by the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the shore.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy watches you silently, noticing the vacant look in your eyes and the way your gaze seems to be fixed on some distant point beyond the horizon. He furrows his brow slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his features as he contemplates how lost you appear in that moment.

“What are you doing out here, sweetheart?” Tommy’s voice breaks the silence, his tone casual yet curious, as if striking up conversations with strange women on the beach is a regular occurrence for him.

Well, it probably is, you think to yourself.

“I, uh, wanted to watch the sunset,” you answer softly.

“Hm. It’s amazing, isn’t it? Should’ve been here and seen it too instead of wasting my time at that damn bar.”

“Oh? How did you waste your time? Can’t have been that bad, judging by the lipstick stains on your face,” you murmur.

“What? Where?” Tommy blurts out, his eyes widening in surprise as he hastily rubs at his lips and cheeks, searching for any traces of lipstick on his fingers.

You stifle a laugh. “I’m just fucking with you,” you deadpan, shooting him a quick glance.

He stares at you in mock offense for a moment before his lips curl into a wide grin. “Touché,” he says, thoroughly entertained by your dry humor. “But yeah, things didn’t go the way I would’ve liked them to.”

“What, she didn’t wanna go home with you either?”

“Very funny. But no, things were going well.” He sighs dramatically and rubs his forehead. “But then her husband showed up and kinda threw a giant monkey wrench into our plans.”

“Wow, tough break,” you scoff, shaking your head in mock sympathy, “not getting to fuck a married woman. I hate it when that happens.”

Tommy chuckles. “Alright, alright, I didn’t know she was married, for the record. She wasn’t wearing a ring or anything.”

“Sure,” you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you cast a skeptical glance in his direction.

“What are you up to, then, darlin’? Hm?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Besides not making out with married women?” You hear Tommy’s laugh beside you and wiggle your toes in the sand. “Just enjoying the ocean, I guess. I’ve missed it.”

“You’re not from here?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not.”

“Hm. You’re gonna love it. There’s lots of cool things to see and do, especially for young people like you.”

You furrow your brow. “Why are you talking like you’re ninety years old and I’m your estranged grandkid?”

“I dunno,” he sighs, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I guess…turning forty did something to me.”

“Married women apparently still throw themselves at you. You’re gonna be fine.”

He chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that seems to echo across the beach. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, punctuated by the gentle sound of the ocean and the occasional cry of seagulls wheeling overhead.

“What brings you here, then?” Tommy asks, observing your profile. You look tired.

“I told you, watching the sunset.”

“No, I mean what brings you into town? Vacation or family or something?”

You turn to look at him, tilting your head slightly as you study his expression. “Why do you care?”

“Just making conversation,” he says with a smile, a glint of genuine curiosity shining in his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me. We can talk about something else if you want.”

“Like what?”

“Like did you know it’s illegal to own just one guinea pig in Switzerland?”

Your bewildered look amuses him.

“It’s true. You’re required, by law, to get your guinea pig a little guinea pig friend. They won’t sell you just one. Isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever heard?”

You stare at him, shaking your head slowly. “What kind of women do you pull if this is how you flirt?”

Tommy raises an eyebrow. “Who says I’m flirting?”

“Uh-huh,” you say with a smirk, then turn your head back towards the water. “But what if they want to be alone?”

“Hm?”

“What if you get a guinea pig in Switzerland and you have to buy a second one to keep it company but the first guinea pig actually just wants to be alone on a bench and then some other guinea pig with a mustache shows up and asks weird questions? What then?”

“Well,” Tommy starts, happy that you’re seemingly warming up a bit. “I think the first guinea pig would quickly realize that the other, dashingly handsome guinea pig isn’t that bad and just wants to be friends. And then they’d be friends and run around together and eat hay or whatever.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, and you know, I think us humans aren’t that different from them. I don’t think we’re meant to be alone either.”

You look at him. “Is that why you came to talk to me? Because you don’t want me to be alone?”

“Would that be so bad?”

“I guess not,” you murmur softly, your gaze drifting to the patch of dry skin on the back of your right hand. “And I’m, uh, not here for any special reason. I just…needed a break from home, I suppose.”

“And you have a place to stay, darlin’?” Tommy’s voice carries a gentle concern as he leans slightly closer, trying to see your eyes.

“Yeah, I booked a hotel room a few minutes from here,” you lie smoothly. “With sea-view and everything. Just haven’t checked in yet.”

“Where did you put all your stuff?”

“My stuff?”

“Yeah, your clothes and teddy bears and whatnot.”

You nudge the backpack sitting on the ground next to you with your naked foot. “This is my stuff.”

“Oh.” You must have really wanted to get away if you traveled this lightly, Tommy contemplates silently.

He used to do the same, packing a bag and escaping, seeking solace in the open road. But he learned the hard way that you can’t outrun your problems. They always find a way to catch up with you, no matter how far you go.

He gives you a sympathetic smile. “Have you had dinner already?”

“I had a bagel at the airport this morning,” you say nonchalantly.

Tommy’s brows furrow slightly, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.” If you had even the slightest bit of energy left inside of you, you’d find his shocked face amusing.

“Okay, that’s just unacceptable. Wait.” He retrieves his phone from his pocket and opens a food delivery app. “What kind of pizza do you want?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want pi–”

“Yes, you do. I’m not gonna have you starving on my watch.”

You raise an eyebrow. “On your watch?”

“Yeah, on my watch. Now, what kind of topping–”

“Pineapple.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pine. Apple.”

“Oh, but I’m the weirdo,” he mutters, shaking his head and giving you the side-eye as he reluctantly adds pineapple as a topping to your pizza. “Anything else? Anchovies? Corn? My tears?”

“Jesus, don’t have a heart attack. Are you Italian or something?”

“No, just not a complete monster.”

You can’t help but chuckle, your smile lighting up your face for the first time in what feels like ages. Tommy’s eyes linger on you a moment too long, captivated by your sudden radiance, before he tears his gaze away as your smile fades once more.

Clearing his throat, he shifts his attention back to his task, fingers tapping away as he types the description of your location for the delivery.

“Should arrive in twenty minutes, the app says.”

You nod and lean back, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you watch the waves again.

“When did you decide to fly out here?”

“Last night.”

“How? Why?”

“Simple. I took out a map, closed my eyes, and this is where my finger landed. And as for the why…well, home just didn’t feel like home anymore, you know?”

“Hm. I know that feeling.”

You turn your head and look into his warm eyes. “You do?”

“Oh yeah. It took me almost a decade after retiring from active duty to feel home again, or like I was safe, or like I belonged. It’s, uh, not easy to get that feeling back once you’ve lost it. I’m sorry you’re going through that,” Tommy says with a somber tone. He really is sorry.

You look at him for a moment and give him a tired smile. “It’s okay,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders. “It wasn’t home to begin with. Not really.”

“Whatever your reasons are, you’re brave for leaving.”

You scoff. “Yeah, sure, I’m brave for running away.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Look, it’s okay. You don’t need to try and make me feel better ‘cause I’m not sad. But I’m also not gonna act like I’m not a coward who accepted far too much shit for far too long ‘cause I’m very much not brave.”

You sigh deeply. “I should’ve gotten the fuck out of that miserable town and relationship years ago. But now it’s too late.”

Tommy furrows his brow and opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

“Are you married?”

“No, darlin’, I’m not married.”

“Girlfriend?”

“No girlfriend.”

“So there’s no one special in your life right now?”

“Nothing serious, no. No attachments for me.”

“Hm. No attachments,” you murmur. “That sounds nice.”

Tommy nods. “It is, most of the time at least. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss being in love.”

“You’ve been in love before?” You tilt your head and look at him with genuine curiosity.

“A few times, yeah.”

“And the women you were with…they loved you?”

“Yeah, they did.” The soft smile lighting up his face tells you he has pleasant memories of his former partners. How nice that must be.

“Do you ever wonder why it didn’t work out?”

Tommy’s expression turns introspective, his gaze drifting towards the horizon as if searching for answers in the distant waves.

“I have,” he admits after a pause, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. “But I guess that’s just how life goes sometimes. People drift apart, circumstances change, life changes...”

“Do you think it’s possible to hate someone you love?”

Your question catches him off guard, and the look in your eyes concerns him. “Well,” he says calmly, carefully choosing his words, “I can’t say I’ve ever had that experience, but I could imagine that’s how my brother felt about me back when I was spiraling and he had to watch me make bad decision after bad decision. He loved me, I know he always has, but he also hated me for what I was doing.”

“Sounds like a good brother,” you say, mustering a smile.

“He really is. Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah, but I don’t talk to them,” you say, your tone betraying a hint of sadness before you quickly mask it with indifference. “My, uh…best friend was like my sister though.”

“Was?”

“Yeah, you know,” you murmur, the smile on your lips not matching the bitterness in your tone, “that friendship kinda ended after I saw her sitting on my boyfriend’s lap, shoving her tongue down his throat.”

“What the hell? When was that?”

“Hmm, about a month ago. And you wanna know the real kicker? They’ve been fucking for like half a year. My best friend and my boyfriend. Laughing their asses off behind my back. Hilarious, isn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry, darlin’. They’re shitty people for doing that to you. You didn’t deserve any–”

“How do you know that?”

“Know what?”

“How do you know that I didn’t deserve it? You don’t know me, you don’t know anything about me.”

“I may not know you,” Tommy says gently, “but I know that no one deserves to be treated like that, especially by the people they trust. It’s hard sometimes to see things objectively because we’re our own worst enemies, but I’m telling you, you didn’t deserve that.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

“What makes you say that?”

You look into his eyes, and the pain he can see in yours breaks his heart.

“Because, I fucking loved it. Everything he did to me, all these years. I loved it. I could’ve left him after he cheated on me for the first time, the second time, the hundredth time, but no. I loved how he came crawling back to me time and time again, promising me the world, telling me he only loved me.”

You pull away, hands resting on his chest as you try to find your words. Simon’s intense gaze has your mind swirling with conflicting emotions, and your heart pounding in your chest. “I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, your body trembling as he presses you against the wall with his body. “You–you say you’ll change, you say you’ll never do it again, you say you regret hurting me. And I forgive you. Every time. But nothing ever changes. You do it again and again, not caring how much you hurt me.” He places a hand on the wall next to your head, pushing your shirt up around your waist with the other, his touch on your naked skin sending a shiver down your spine. He looks down at you with a hint of amusement, a devious smirk appearing on his face as he searches your pleading eyes. “I’m serious, Simon,” you insist, unsuccessfully trying to convince yourself of what you’re saying. “I’m done.” Leaning in, he traces your neck with his nose, your heavy breathing and the way your tits press against his chest making his cock twitch in his jeans. “Is that so?” he murmurs against your skin before softly sucking and kissing on your flesh. “Why are you doing this?” you breathe, instinctively wrapping your arms around him, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you draw him closer. His leg between yours presses against your core, and you can’t help but whimper desperately at the feeling. “I love you,” he whispers, his warm breath gently caressing the curve of your ear, his words piercing your heart like a poisonous dart. “No, you don’t,” you murmur, your voice heavy with sadness, your eyes betraying the turmoil raging within you. Despite the ache in your heart, a part of you still yearns for the comfort of his touch, the familiarity of his presence, the illusion of affection he gives you. You need him, need to feel him, need him to love you—even if it kills you. In this moment of vulnerability, you surrender to the torrent of emotions flooding your senses, pressing your lips against his in a desperate attempt to drown out the pain, to silence the screams that plague your mind—eagerly drinking his poison straight from the source. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pull him closer, offering yourself up to him with each rough tug, fervent kiss, and harsh bite to his lips. He matches your energy, gripping the back of your neck with a bruising hold as he hastily opens his jeans to free his cock. “I hate you,” you choke out, the words laced with bitterness and the raw intensity of your need for him as your heart races and your vision blurs. “Whatever you gotta tell yourself, baby,” Simon murmurs with a smirk, his words a cruel reminder of the tangled web of emotions that binds you to him, even as you struggle to break free. With a deft movement, he pulls aside your panties, sliding his hard cock through your wet folds as he holds your leg up around his waist. “Oh fuck,” you moan as he pushes inside you in one harsh thrust, your fingernails reflexively digging into his scalp. Overwhelming pleasure mingles with the anguish of your body betraying you, even as your mind screams in protest. Your walls clench around Simon with fierce intensity, his repeated thrusts against your G-spot having you close to orgasm within a minute. “Tell me, baby,” he pants, his eyes gleaming with triumph and satisfaction as he watches in real time how his poison travels through your entire body, your mind, intoxicating your very being with his essence. “Tell me how much you hate me while you come on my cock.”

You tilt your head and give Tommy a tired smile. “Isn’t that the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard?”

“No, sweetheart, you’re not pathetic for wanting to be loved. You’re human and our feelings can be…complicated, irrational, dangerous. But you got yourself away from a toxic situation despite your feelings and that takes a lot of strength.”

“Hm.” You draw shapes into the sand with your toes, your heart heavy in your chest.

“Is he…why you left? You had to get away from him?”

“Surprisingly, no,” you say pensively, lost in thought as you fold one leg beneath you on the bench. “Things weren’t that bad after I decided not to care anymore. You know you can just wake up one day and realize it hurts a lot less to just not care about anything? Amazing. So yeah, that’s what I did.” You shrug and rub your left thumb with your right one.

“Of course, he didn’t like that at all, not being able to emotionally drain me anymore. He even told me I was depressed or some shit, acting like he cared, when all he actually missed was me giving him the reactions he wanted,” you scoff, bitterness dripping from your lips. “Coincidentally, that’s when he and my best friend started fucking.”

“I’m so sorry, darlin’, that’s beyond fucked up. Do you, uh, have someone to talk to about all this?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You mean apart from handsome cowboys in too-tight jeans late at night?”

“Did you just call me handsome?”

“Don’t think so,” you give him a playful smile, then turn your head to watch the waves doing their mesmerizing dance. Despite the light-hearted banter, a hint of sadness flickers across your face. “But no, I don’t have anyone left.”

Tommy’s expression softens, his eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and concern as he listens to your words. He reaches out, but catches himself before his hand comes to rest on your shoulder.

“Why did you leave?” he asks gently.

“I saw her.”

“Who?”

“Laura. My best friend,” you say, shuddering at her name. “I came out of the hospital yesterday, stood at a red light, and then I saw her. Looking right at me from the other side of the street. We hadn’t talked since before I almost died a month ago, ‘cause she never bothered to answer any of my calls or texts…and there she was. Daring to look at me with those fake-ass tears in her eyes like she isn’t a fucking sociopath.”

“What did you do?”

“I just…looked at her, knowing I could never see her again. I walked away, went to mine and Simon’s apartment, grabbed a few things, and went to the airport.”

“And now you’re here.”

“And now I’m here.”

The weight of your experience hangs heavy in the air, casting a somber shadow over the conversation. Tommy nods thoughtfully as he absorbs your words, until he suddenly shakes his head, chastising himself for his own stupidity.

“Okay wait, I’m sorry, but did you just say you almost died? What the hell happened?”

“Oh,” you scoff, a wide smile spreading across your face, its brightness contrasting sharply with the dullness in your eyes, “it’s nothing. One of my fallopian tubes burst ‘cause my dumbass gynecologist failed to diagnose an ectopic pregnancy, so I was hemorrhaging and had to have emergency surgery to get it removed.”

Tommy’s reaction is visceral: his eyes widen in shock, and his mouth falls open slightly, a silent gasp escaping him as the gravity of your words, spoken with horrifying casualness, hits him like a punch to the gut.

“Jesus Christ, darlin’...”

“But hey, the doctor said I’m completely fine at the check-up yesterday, so I guess that’s what I am.” You shrug and smile at him, but your attempt to lighten the mood falls flat.

“Darlin’, I’m so sor–”

“Don’t, please. It’s okay,” you interrupt softly, shaking your head. “My ex told me to have an abortion when I told him I was pregnant, and I wouldn’t have been a good mom anyway, so it’s best for the baby that it wasn’t born into the shitshow that is my life.”

“Dar–”

“I swear to God, Tommy, if you say ‘darlin’’ in that stupid, sexy accent of yours one more time,” you cut him off with a playful glare.

He smiles at you, though worry lingers in his eyes and tugs at his heart.

“I’ve always wanted to live near the ocean,” you muse, welcoming the breeze cooling your hot face down. “It’s kind of poetic that my journey ends here.”

“It really is beautiful here, I’m sure you’d love livi–” Tommy starts, but you’re not hearing him.

“You know, I have this recurring dream where I drown, but instead of feeling panicked or scared I just feel peaceful, light. Like the weight of the world is lifted off my shoulders. I don’t thrash or struggle, I just…let the water take me under and I can finally breathe.”

Concern flashes in Tommy’s eyes, but he quickly masks it with a calm expression, not wanting to alarm you.

“That sounds intense,” he responds gently, choosing his words carefully. “Dreams can be strange sometimes, but that one sounds like it’s trying to tell you something. Maybe it’s your mind’s way of processing all the heavy things that’ve been weighing on you."

He shifts slightly closer to you, his tone soft and reassuring. “But you know, maybe it’s worth exploring with a therapist or someone who can help you unpack it. Sometimes talking about these things can bring some clarity and relief.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you say absentmindedly.

“Darlin’, please look at me,” Tommy’s voice breaks through the haze of your thoughts, his gaze penetrating through the fog of your mind. If you had any tears left to cry, the sincerity in his eyes would surely coax them out right about now.

“About what you said earlier…you–you don’t deserve people treating you badly, or any of the bad things that happen to you. You never did, you hear me? You were supposed to be loved, protected and cared for, but you weren’t, and that’s not fair, and most certainly not your fault.”

You tilt your head, studying his face intently. Why does he care? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? But hey, he’s trying to be nice, and it’s not like you’re ever going to see him again. So, you’re trying to be nice back.

“Thanks,” you say softly, mustering a smile. “But enough about me and my dumpster fire of a life.” You shift in your seat, untucking your leg and stretching it out in front of you.

“I’d rather hear about you and how you get your hair to be this healthy. I can never get mine to look that good. Do you think it’s because I just eat garbage, don’t drink enough water and don’t get enough sunlight?”

Tommy chuckles and nods understandingly, recognizing your attempt to shift gears, and decides to play along until you both hear the pizza guy calling for you.

Your insistence to pay for your own pizza and drink falls on deaf ears, so you begrudgingly accept Tommy’s invitation and thank him for ordering food. Surprisingly, you find yourself ravenously hungry after taking the first few bites of your pineapple pizza—that you originally only wanted to mess with Tommy. But even he has to admit it isn’t half bad after you make him eat a slice.

As you’re eating together and the night deepens around you, the street lamps along the boardwalk spending enough light, you ask Tommy about his life.

He shares his journey of enlisting in the army as a teenager, grappling with PTSD upon his return, and navigating through troubled times. He tells you about the unwavering support of his brother and how therapy helped him cope with his demons. You delve deeper, asking him about his wishes for the future, about his hopes and dreams.

You enjoy hearing about his life, about his experiences that are so different from yours. It’s comforting to get lost in someone else’s story for a bit. It’s a refuge, a welcome escape from your own tiring existence.

Pizzas devoured, you sit side by side, enveloped in the soothing melody of the ocean’s whispers. Time seems to lose its grip as you share both laughter and quiet, the minutes and hours slipping away unnoticed like grains of sand carried by the tide.

As tranquility settles between you, the world around you seemingly forgotten, a question gnaws at your insides, its weight palpable in the silence. It’s a question you’re reluctant to voice aloud, knowing it will rupture the delicate bubble you and Tommy have found yourselves in. Yet, it persists, demanding acknowledgment, refusing to be ignored.

You take a deep breath.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He gives you a reassuring smile. “Of course, darlin’.”

“Why won’t you go home?”

Oh. Tommy looks deeply into your eyes, his own filled with turmoil, and finds that he can’t lie to you.

“I can’t,” he admits softly, turning his gaze towards the distant horizon.

You nod slowly, turning your head towards the water as well. “You know why I’m here.”

“Yes,” he says simply, his acknowledgment laden with a quiet understanding.

You steal a glance at him, your eyes searching for comfort in the weary lines on his face. With a tentative gesture, you place your hand on the bench between you, a subtle invitation for connection.

Tommy, sensing your unspoken plea, catches the movement from the corner of his eye. His gaze meets yours as you turn your head, and in that shared moment of vulnerability, he understands. Without a word, he responds, reaching out to cover your hand with his own.

His touch is protective, a silent promise that you’re not alone.

“Do you…do you think that makes me a bad person?” you whisper, your voice trembling as you lay bare the depths of your fears.

“No,” he responds softly, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity. “You’re not a bad person for feeling the way you do.”

For the first time since your miscarriage, tears glisten in your eyes, shimmering like fragments of shattered dreams under the moonlight. Tommy’s words offer a glimmer of solace, touching your broken heart.

Silence settles between you two, heavy with shared pain. You sit like that for a while, two strangers finding kinship in the gentle embrace of this summer night.

Gently squeezing your hand, Tommy turns to look at you after a few minutes. “I need you to do something for me,” he says, his voice tinged with urgency. You look into his eyes, finding comfort in the warmth of his presence.

“Please stay with me tonight,” he pleads, his fingers tightening around yours, anchoring you to the present moment as if afraid you might slip away into the night.

“We can stay here, we can go for drinks, we can go dancing, we can break into the zoo—whatever you want, sweetheart. We don’t have to talk about anything, and I promise I won’t bother you anymore if tomorrow you decide that’s what you want, but please give me a chance to show you that I ca–”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

As the gentle breeze around you whispers secrets of hope and renewal, you find yourself nodding in agreement, a silent promise to give him the chance he so earnestly seeks—to let him show you the light that flickers within the darkness.

Tommy is momentarily stunned as he searches your face for any sign of hesitation. But there’s none to be found—only a quiet resolve that speaks volumes. A wave of relief washes over him, and he can’t hold back the wide grin spreading across his face.

“So, there’s a place a few minutes from here where we could dance, or there’s the bar I went to earlier, or we could–”

“Tommy?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I’m tired. Could we maybe…could we go home?”

Tommy’s face lights up even more. “Yes, yes, of course, darlin’. My place is right around the corner.”

“Great,” you say with a small smile.

You put your socks and sneakers back on, your movements slow and unsteady after hours of sitting. As you stand up for the first time, your legs wobble beneath you, but Tommy is quick to react, reaching out to steady you with his hands on your waist.

“Sorry,” you mumble, cheeks heating up as you realize your hands are gripping his shoulders for support.

“That’s alright, darlin’. I got you.”

“You’re so cheesy, you know that?” you say with a playful roll of your eyes before removing your hands and taking a step back.

“Look me in the eye and tell me it’s not working,” he teases back with a smirk.

“Whatever. Can we go?” You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“After you, my lady,” Tommy says with a gallant flourish, gesturing for you to go first. You shake your head with a theatrical sigh, but play along and start walking.

He falls into step beside you, eager to lift your spirits with an array of random animal facts he’s accumulated over the years, and, much to your amusement, with some particularly funny stories about failed hookups, like the one from tonight.

As you draw closer to his apartment, he suddenly sucks in a sharp breath and comes to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot to ask if you need anything.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, tampons, make-up wipes, solution for your contacts, hair conditioner, lotion—I don’t think I have any of that at home, but there’s a convenience sto–”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, touched by his consideration. “I got all my essentials in my backpack and really don’t need anything fancy. Thank you, though.”

“Are you–”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you interrupt softly. “Thank you.”

Arriving at Tommy’s apartment, you’re struck by its elegant yet welcoming nature. It’s spacious and tastefully furnished, with a modern aesthetic that speaks to Tommy’s discerning taste. You can’t help but wonder if his job as a contractor affords him such a nice living space or if he’s secretly a trust fund kid—or a very successful drug dealer.

“Must be nice,” you think to yourself.

As Tommy ushers you inside, you’re enveloped in a sense of warmth and comfort as the space feels distinctly homey, with its wooden furnishings and cozy accents that evoke a rustic charm. The polished hardwood floors gleam under soft lamplight, casting a warm glow throughout the living room.

Tommy assures you that you’re welcome to make yourself at home as he heads into the kitchen to get you a glass of water.

Despite its hominess, the apartment remains impeccably clean and organized—a testament, perhaps, to Tommy’s meticulous nature. Every surface is spotless, every item in its proper place, reflecting a discipline that may well stem from his army training.

As you explore further, you do notice small touches that hint at Tommy’s personality—framed photos of him and his friends, a worn but well-loved armchair and couch positioned opposite the TV, horse figurines on the sideboard, and a few potted plants scattered throughout, adding a touch of life to the space.

Your eyes are eventually drawn to the record player nestled in one corner, surrounded by a collection of vinyl records. The sight brings a smile to your face, appreciating the nostalgic feeling it gives you. You’re pretty sure you used to have the same model in your childhood home.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” you hear Tommy’s voice behind you as he hands you the glass of water with a knowing smile. “You like Jazz?”

“Thanks. And yeah, I guess?”

“Okay, wait a sec.” He moves with practiced ease, flipping through his collection of vinyl records until he finds the one he’s looking for. With a gentle touch, he carefully removes the chosen record from its sleeve, handling it delicately as if it were a precious artifact.

You sip on your water and watch in fascination as he places the record onto the turntable, the soft click of the needle finding its groove. As the first notes of a smooth jazz melody fill the air, you can’t help but smile, the music enveloping you in its warm embrace.

Tommy catches your eye and grins, nodding in approval as if to say, “See, I knew you’d like it.”

You roll your eyes and nudge his arm with your elbow.

“Want me to show you around?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so this is the bedroom,” he says, leading you down the hallway and into the room where you’ll be sleeping. The bed sits neatly made, its dark sheets promising a restful night ahead. “I’ll change the sheets for you in a bit, okay? And I’ll be sleeping in the living room on the couch.”

“I, uh,” you murmur, but stop yourself, shaking your head. “No, forget it.”

“What is it? It’s okay, you can tell me.” He searches your eyes as you meet his gaze, waiting patiently for you to answer him.

“Could you maybe…not change the sheets?”

Tommy’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but he doesn’t make it awkward. Instead, he nods understandingly and immediately assures you, “Sure, I’ll leave the bed as it is then.”

You offer him a grateful smile and as if sensing your need for comfort, he asks, “Do you need a shirt to sleep?” Without waiting for your response, he retrieves one of his shirts and hands it to you.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, taking the shirt from him and holding it close. It’s soft and smells nice.

“And here’s the bathroom,” Tommy continues, leading you through the space. “Feel free to take a shower if you want. Spare towels are here, and there’s a new toothbrush in the cabinet here. Toothpaste is over there. I even got fancy face masks if you wanna try, they’re in here. You think you got everything you need?”

“I think so,” you smile at him before leaving the bathroom to grab your backpack.

As you’re about to head back, Tommy slips in ahead of you. You watch as he discreetly removes all the razor blades, a silent but clear gesture of concern for your well-being. You understand what he’s doing, and although it stirs a pang of humiliation and shame inside you, you don’t say anything and act like you didn’t see it.

After he leaves the bathroom, you take a moment to compose yourself before closing the door, peeing, taking off your clothes, and catching a glimpse of the small surgery scars on your belly. They appear to be healing well, already looking much better than even a week ago.

With a deep breath, you turn on the shower, allowing the warm water to cascade over your body, soothing away some of your tension. As you lather up, enveloped in the steam and the rich scent of Tommy’s body wash, there’s a knock on the door, interrupting your thoughts.

“Darlin’?” Tommy’s voice sounds through the door.

“Yeah?”

“Just wanted to check if you were okay.”

“I’m okay. But you seriously need to start buying body wash for adults, dude. I’m gonna be smelling like a fourteen-year-old boy now, and I don’t know how to feel about it,” you tease.

“Ha ha, you brat. Enjoy your shower.”

You smile to yourself and appreciate how clean Tommy’s shower is as, in your experience, that is not something you can count on with men who live alone.

As you lather shampoo into your hair, you close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of peace amidst the chaos of recent events. It’s all so surreal.

Once rinsed, you step out of the shower and wrap yourself in one of Tommy’s plush towels, the soft fabric hugging your body in a tight embrace. With the steam still lingering in the air, you take your time cleaning your face, brushing your teeth and detangling your wet hair, these simple acts of self-care something you’ve neglected in the weeks prior.

Luckily, your past self decided to pack a fresh pair of panties and a pair of soft yoga pants you can change into now, Tommy’s shirt completing your pajamas for tonight.

Slowly, you step out of the bathroom, the soft light of the living room floor lamp casting a warm glow on the scene before you. Tommy’s sitting on the couch, bathed in the gentle ambiance of the record player’s music.

With a glass of whiskey in hand, he seems lost in thought, fingers rhythmically tapping against the glass, his eyes focused on the spinning vinyl. As you approach, he looks up, a small smile gracing his lips as he welcomes you to join him.

“Okay yeah, I get it,” he quips, his tone playful as he notices how perfectly his shirt accentuates your eye color. “You look better in my shirt than I ever could. There’s really no need to rub it in.”

Chuckling, you settle into the cushion beside him, feeling the warmth of his presence. It feels oddly comforting to be close to him again, his cologne a familiar scent.

But as you sit beside him now, something shifts in the air, a subtle change that you can’t quite pinpoint. It’s as if a newfound awareness has settled between you, casting a different light on the space you share. And as you steal glances at Tommy, you start to feel restless, your heart rate quickening.

Oh.

The realization dawns on you slowly, creeping in like the first light of dawn, illuminating the depths of your emotions. You find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him, mesmerized by the way he sits on the couch, his posture relaxed yet undeniably confident.

Your eyes trail over the breadth of his shoulders, down his strong arms, his sculpted torso, and settle on his spread thighs, the subtle flex of muscles visible beneath the fabric of his jeans. Each movement, each shift of his body, only serves to deepen the intensity of your attraction to him.

You’re in trouble.

His handsome face holds a certain allure, drawing you in with its rugged charm—especially with those warm eyes and the beautiful facial hair. As you look at him, really take him in, you can’t deny the flutter of arousal stirring deep within you.

A flutter that’s enough to urge your scrambled brain to make a move.

Tommy catches your prolonged stare, and his brows furrow slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. You gather the courage to ask for a sip of his whiskey, unwittingly biting your lip as you wait for his answer.

“Of course, darlin’,” he agrees, leaning in with a broad smile, bringing the glass closer to you.

As your fingers brush against his on the glass, you feel a surge of electricity pass between you. His pupils dilate ever so slightly, his gaze locked onto yours. You take the glass from him, your fingers lingering on his for a moment longer than necessary.

Raising the glass to your lips, you take a slow sip, relishing the smooth warmth of the whiskey as it slides down your throat. Your eyes never leave his as you lick your lips, the gesture not lost on Tommy as he watches you intently.

The flicker of desire in his eyes tells you that he’s captivated by your silent invitation, but as Tommy accepts the glass back, a faint frown tugs at his brow, his expression suddenly tense.

“Darlin’, don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, his voice husky with restraint.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence as you ask, “Why not?”

“Because,” he breathes out, “it’s making me want to do things I shouldn’t.”

“Hmm, but what if I told you that I want to do those things, too?”

Tommy swallows hard as you scoot closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours. His pulse quickens, evident in the subtle rise and fall of his chest, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, unsure of what to do or say next.

When your hand lands gently above his knee, his body tenses at your touch. His lips part slightly, as if he’s about to speak, but all he manages is a heavy breath.

“Tell me to stop,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you lean in slowly, searching his eyes. You can see the conflict raging within him, desire warring with restraint, and you wait for his response.

With a shaky exhale, his gaze drops down to your lips, his entire being filled with longing and uncertainty. But as your palm wanders up his thigh, drawing closer and closer to his growing erection, his resolve begins to crumble like sand underfoot.

Unable to resist any longer, he leans in, closing the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender yet fervent kiss. His hand instinctively finds the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your wet hair as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet urgency.

Feeling you so close, feeling your soft lips against his, he surrenders to the moment, to the sweet sensation of your embrace, letting himself be consumed by the taste of you.

And yet, in the back of his mind, he’s painfully aware of the circumstances of your meeting.

“I don’t think…this…is a good idea,” Tommy mumbles breathlessly against your lips as you whine needily for more.

“I don’t care,” you breathe, pulling back for a moment to hold onto his shoulders and straddle his lap. His cock twitches in his jeans as you scoot forward, your warm core putting delicious pressure on it. Smiling, you put your hands on his chest and lean in to kiss him again. He cups your face with his hands, kissing you back deeply before nudging your nose with his.

You open your eyes and meet his gaze, his pupils so dilated his brown eyes are almost completely black.

“Let me look at you, baby” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, sending shivers down your spine. With a smile, you straighten up and place your hands behind you on his thighs, giving him a great view of your spread thighs and torso.

“Is this okay?” Tommy asks softly as he traces your thighs with his palms, his touch sending tingles of anticipation through your body.

You nod your head yes, and his lips curve into a smile as his eyes roam your body and face with adoration. His hands wander over your hips, under the shirt you’re wearing, along your waist and further up, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, his eyes piercing yours as his hands come to rest on your waist.

“I’m sure you say that to every girl willing to sit on your lap,” you tease with a smirk, putting your hands on his chest. You can feel his heartbeat under your palm.

“Yeah, but with you I mean it.” His words carry a weight of sincerity as one hand reaches out to tenderly caress your cheek, while the other glides over the soft skin of your back. “C’mere baby.”

As you lean in, his lips capture yours with an almost desperate hunger, his kiss rough and deep, as if he fears you might vanish if he doesn’t hold onto you tightly enough. His hands glide to your lower back, hovering just above your ass, hesitant to go further yet craving to pull you closer, to feel every inch of you pressed against him, to consume you whole.

“You don’t have to be so gentle. I won’t break,” you say softly, leading his hands down to your ass. You hum in satisfaction as he grabs it, feeling the strain of his arousal against your aching pussy.

“Tommy,” you whine quietly against his lips, begging him to understand how desperately you need him.

Lost in the moment, you both sink deeper into the kiss, the world around you fading away until there’s only the heat of each other’s bodies and the rhythm of your shared desire. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his hands roam your back, igniting sparks of pleasure with every touch.

But as the intensity of your kiss grows, so does the weight of uncertainty. Tommy pulls back slightly, his breathing heavy as he searches your eyes for reassurance.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispers. “We don’t have to…”

“I want you, Tommy,” you purr, your eyes glazed.

Your hips rock against him, trying to relieve the tension that has grown between your thighs, eliciting a deep groan from him. His hands move to your waist, helping you grind against him.

“Oh shit,” he pants, reveling in the needy moans leaving your lips. “I don’t wanna hurt you, baby,” he admits with a soft shake of his head, looking at you with wide eyes, still moving you against the bulge in his jeans.

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” you breathe, leaning in to kiss and suck at his sensitive neck, leaving purple marks behind. You feel his grip tighten, his restraint slipping as he responds to your touch with a low groan.

Lost in the overload of sensations—feeling your warm body, your soft lips and wet tongue, your urgent movements on him, hearing your moans and whispered pleas—Tommy is ready to give you what you both want.

But right as he’s opening his belt with deft fingers, he inadvertently turns his head and catches his reflection in the window. Watching you writhe on top of him, clutching his shirt, his own face twisted in ecstasy, a sharp pang of guilt shoots through him.

This isn’t right. He shouldn’t be doing this.

You move to kiss his lips again, but as you do so, you catch the concern in his eyes, and your heart sinks. “Hey,” you whisper, your brow furrowed, an anxious smile on your lips.

Your fingers trail gently through his hair, seeking reassurance, but when his movements cease and his touch withdraws, panic floods your senses.

“No, no please don’t stop,” you beg, your desperation evident in every word. You press against him, your hips moving with urgency, aching for the connection you crave so deeply. “I need you.”

Your hands gently cup his cheeks, your pleading eyes flitting between his.

“Please? Tommy?”

Feeling something bump against your leg, you’re called back to the present.

“Oh, hi there, buddy,” you coo, looking down at the toddler who just faceplanted in front of you. You lean down and offer your hand to help him up. “What are you up to, hm? Just running around?”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, his face breaking into a toothy grin. “You wanna sit up here and wait for your mommy?” You lift him up, putting more pressure on your bandaged hand than you should, and set him down beside you. “Great view, huh?”

He babbles something unintelligible, his little arms flailing as his excited laughter fills the air. “You’re so right, buddy,” you agree, following his gaze to the sparkling blue, “the ocean is beautiful.”

“Benji? Oh, there you are,” a lady in a swimsuit calls out, walking towards you with a relieved smile. “I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she says to you, her tone apologetic. “Benji, how many times have I told you not to run away, hm?”

The toddler giggles in response to his mom’s reproach, his little arms reaching out for her. You can’t help but laugh along with him.

“Think twice before you decide to have kids,” the lady says with a deep sigh, lifting her son onto her hip. “They’re not always as cute as they look.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you chuckle.

“Say bye to the nice lady,” she prompts, her voice warm and gentle.

Benji turns to you, his eyes bright with innocence, and waves enthusiastically with his chubby little hand.

“Bye Benji,” you coo, returning his wave with a big smile, your heart warmed by his adorable gesture.

You sigh and look at your phone. You have two new messages from Tommy.

Maria says she can’t wait to see you tomorrow. And that she’ll personally drag you here if you decide not to show up.

You’re family and there’s nothing you can do to escape us ;)

You swallow hard and can feel your puffy, irritated eyes starting to water behind your black glasses. What the fuck did you ever do in your insignificant life to deserve this kind of love?

Your phone lights up with another text from Tommy.

just accept it <3

You snort and shake your head. You’re so grateful for his friendship. It has changed a lot over the last couple of years, of course it has, especially after he started dating Maria, and more recently since you started…seeing his brother without telling him.

But the fact that you’re still honoring your yearly tradition to have your late-night talk on this very bench, is a testament to the depth of your bond. It’s a cherished ritual, marking the anniversary of your first meeting. You meet here, under the evening sky, exchanging stories and laughter, and indulging in pizza after sunset.

Two years ago, Tommy told you he met someone before you left his apartment the next morning.

“Sweetheart?” “Yeah?” “I, uh, I got something to tell you.” “Shoot.” “I met someone.” Your fingers halt as you’re tying your shoes, the world around you suddenly still as his words sink in. You stare at the floor, tension building in your heart. “We’ve only been on two dates, but I–” “Really like her,” you finish his sentence as you tie the laces into a knot, straighten up and meet his gaze. “Yes.” That’s it, then. You’ve been replaced. “Does that,” you clear your throat that feels incredibly tight now, your voice shaking, “does that mean we can’t hang out anymore?” Tears well up in your eyes as you feel a rush of panic flood through you. You look down and try to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. “Of course not,” Tommy says, his tone gentle yet firm. “Nothing and no one in the world could ever keep me from spending time with you.” “Okay,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper as you hastily wipe away a tear with trembling fingers. “I’m sorry for crying, I–I don’t mean to.” “Hey, you don’t need to apologize for that,” Tommy says softly, closing the distance between you two. His hands find their place on your shoulders, offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “Darlin’, look at me.” You lift your gaze to meet his, your eyes brimming with fresh tears. “I mean it,” he says with a comforting smile, looking intently into your eyes and cupping your face with his hands. “I promise I’m not going to leave you. I will always be here for you.” You study his face and tell the nagging voice in your mind to shut the fuck up. This is Tommy. He deserves love, he deserves happiness, he deserves someone who can give him everything he wants. And that’s not you. You give him a kiss on the cheek and a sincere smile. “I’m really happy for you, Tommy.”

You did continue spending time together—Tommy kept his word and didn’t abandon you—but as more and more time passed, you would see him less and less as his relationship with Maria deepened.

You expected that to happen, it didn’t hurt any less though.

One year ago, he told you he was going to propose to her, and you spent all night brainstorming ideas on how he could do it. After she’d said yes, they both let you know one day over dinner that they were going to elope, just the two of them, and you were the only person they’d tell beforehand.

A few weeks ago, Tommy beamed with pride as he shared that they were trying for a baby, the twinkle in his eyes warming your heart. Despite the joyous news, you couldn’t resist teasing him for planting that image in your mind.

After you’d shared your stories, and your pineapple and pepperoni pizzas, he very casually asked you if you were seeing anyone, and you said, “No.”

“You’re a horrible liar, darlin’.” “I’m not lying. I don’t like anyone except you.” “Stroking my ego’s not gonna get you off the hook, baby.” “Hmm, I’m pretty sure it’s working though.” “The longer you deny it, the more obvious it gets, you know.” “I’m not seeing anybody, Tommy.” “You really wanna play semantics with me?” “Alright, alright. I guess I’m…kinda seeing someone.” “Why just ‘kinda’? Does the guy not realize what a lucky bastard he is?” “It’s not him. It’s, uh…you know me.” “Yeah, and that’s why I know you’ve caught feelings.” “Ew, don’t say that.” “Well, it’s true. It’s written all over your pretty face.” “You suck, you know that?” “Yeah, it’s part of what makes me so charming. Does he know?” “I dunno, probably not.” “Are you gonna tell him?” “Uhh, I don’t think so.” “Why not? All this time I’ve known you and I’ve never seen you in love before. You can’t just…ignore it.” “Tommy…” “Don’t even try it with the puppy eyes, I’m immune to them.” “Liar.” “Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t tell him.” “Easy. If I never tell him, it’ll never hurt.” “That’s not how it works.” “You just couldn’t let me live happily in my delusions, hm?” “Sweetheart. I know you’re scared, and you have all the reason to, but…sometimes you gotta take a leap of faith, you know?” “I’m not sure I can.” “What does your gut say?” “My gut says he’s too good for me and that he wouldn’t like me if he knew who I really am.” “As someone who does know who you really are, I can assure you that it’s a privilege I wouldn’t miss for the world.” “I just…don’t wanna mess things up, Tommy.” “Look. Nothing lasts, but nothing is lost if you try. Everything changes and everything is alright.” “Wow, that was beautiful…you’re really starting to feel that rum and coke, huh?” “You know I’m right, baby.”

It’s funny, really.

You actually entertained the idea that Tommy might be onto something, that perhaps opening up to Joel could bring some semblance of peace, that perhaps you could be happy together. Yet here you are, back where you started, the familiar ache of loss settling in your heart, whispering that everything is far from alright.

As the sun dips below the horizon, the sky transforming into a canvas of vibrant colors, reflecting off the rippling surface of the water, you take your shoes and socks off. You sink your toes into the soft, grainy sand, relishing its comforting texture.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, allowing the rhythmic sound of the waves to soothe your racing thoughts. With each exhale, you remind yourself that you’re safe, embracing the tranquility of the moment as the colors of the sunset dance across your eyelids.

You feel grounded, peaceful, almost—

“Hi, darlin’.”

“Jesus, you scared me,” you startle with a gasp, snapping back to reality as Joel’s voice unexpectedly breaks the silence.

“I’m so sorry, I thought you saw me,” he says with an apologetic smile on his lips, his big puppy eyes looking puppier than ever.

You sigh exasperatedly and take off your sunglasses. “I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he begins, his words stumbling over each other, “I didn’t mean to intrude, I just...I thought I–I mean, I wanted to...”

“Joel,” you interrupt him, too exhausted—physically and emotionally—to beat around the bush. “What are you doing here?”

His brow furrows slightly and his heart plummets as he sees your bleary eyes, a pang of concern settling heavily in his stomach. “I wanted to see you, darlin’,” he confesses softly.

Your gaze sharpens with curiosity and suspicion as you ask, “But how did you know I was gonna be here? And can you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

Joel hesitates for a moment, then sits down beside you, his movements cautious as if afraid to spook you. With a nervous glance in your direction, he clears his throat, his voice low and hesitant.

“I, uh,” he begins, his words faltering slightly, “I went to your place after work to see if you’d maybe talk to me in person. But you weren’t there. And then I went to your office to see if you were working late, but I saw Kristen and she said it was your day off. You could have been anywhere at that point, so I went to Tommy’s and…told him.”

His eyes flit between yours, anxiously searching for your reaction.

You blink slowly, processing Joel’s words with a sense of resignation rather than shock. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you realize that, at this point, nothing surprises you anymore. With a tired nod, you acknowledge Joel’s actions, feeling too drained to muster any significant reaction.

“How’d he take it?” you ask quietly.

Joel exhales deeply, a wry smile on his lips. “He isn’t too happy with me right now, but I think he’ll get over it.”

“Hm.”

“Darlin’, I’m sorry,” he says, his voice wavering with emotion. “I know you probably don’t want to see me right now, but after last night, I just…I couldn’t bare the thought of you not knowing how much you mean to me.”

As Joel speaks, you keep your gaze averted, unable to meet his eyes, your focus fixed on the sand beneath your feet. You hear every word he says, each one echoing in the silence between you, your heart pounding in your chest. Despite your reluctance to face him, Joel’s unwavering gaze remains fixed on you, his eyes silently pleading for understanding.

In the midst of the tense silence, a sudden clarity washes over you, and your heart speaks before your mind can catch up. Just as Joel opens his mouth to apologize again and explain further, you interject with your own question, the words tumbling out softly into the stillness.

“Do you ever feel like there’s something missing...like a piece of your heart is somewhere else? And no matter what you do, you’re always gonna be incomplete?”

You meet Joel’s gaze, your eyes searching his, peering into his soul with a vulnerability that lays bare your deepest feelings.

“I don’t feel like that when I’m with you,” you whisper.

Joel’s brows furrow in a mixture of surprise and tenderness as your words sink in. His lips part slightly, his expression softening with understanding as he processes the weight of your confession.

“Would you, um,” you clear your throat, “would you hold my hand and just sit with me for a bit?”

Joel’s eyes beam with adoration as he gently envelops your hand that’s clutching your shirt, delicately prying it away and intertwining his fingers with yours. With a soft, reassuring smile, he places your entwined hands on his thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin.

As you both gaze out at the vast expanse of the water, the waves lapping against the shore in a mesmerizing dance, you feel a sense of peace settle over you like a warm blanket.

You still carry the weight of unresolved issues and uncertainties in your heart, acknowledging that they loom on the horizon, demanding attention. But for now, they can wait.

Your hand in Joel’s feels right, and in this shared moment right here, that’s enough.

Thank you for reading! 🤍

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justaparsec94 · 4 months ago

Text

Strings

Summary: You have a pretty good thing going with the straight-laced Commander. But when feelings start to get thrown into the mix things get a little messy.

Pairing: Wolffe x fem!reader

Word Count: 4,969

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors be gone, Explicit

Author's Note: This is mostly just porn with feelings and a tiny smattering of plot. Written for the prompt: Topless and face down kiss on the shoulder.

*************************

You had told yourself that the last time had been just that, the last time. You’d promised yourself over and over again that it wouldn’t happen again, couldn’t happen again. Sure, the sex had been so mind-blowingly good that the thought of never having it again made you want to consider swearing off men for the rest of your life. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that he’d made it very clear that sex was all it would ever be. ‘No strings attached’ his gravelly voice had ground out against your ear as he had pinned you to the wall that very first time. And you’d wholeheartedly agreed, you didn’t need the messiness that came along with a relationship. You just wanted him. At first, it had been good, better than good, it had been great. But somewhere along the way, after all the amazing sex and between the backroom meet-ups, feelings had crept their way into the mix, much to your annoyance.

You couldn’t even blame him, he was completely resolute in his decision to remain no strings attached. It seemed unfortunately that your heart was the traitorous one in this relationship and that was how you had come to the conclusion that the last time had been the last time. You knew yourself well enough to stop things before you went and did something completely foolish, like fall in love.

At least, this is what you’d told yourself.

You’d been prepared for his arrival at 79’s, heard through the clone grapevine that the 104th had returned to Coruscant. You’d practiced your strongest look in the mirror before your shift, ensuring your features could school themselves into cool disinterest. The speech you’d had prepared had been memorized. Short and to the point, no opportunity to improvise. A gentle rebuttal to let him know this thing between the two of you could no longer continue. You’d been determined to end it.

Of course, you hadn’t really accounted for just how handsome he truly was in person. Your memory had never really done him justice and seeing him again had proved just how much bantha poodoo you were already in when it came to him. Your resolve had crumbled the instant he’d walked through the door, grey and white armour still in place, Kama swinging around his hips, the silver of his prosthetic eye glinting in the flashing lights of 79’s. Yup, you were well and truly kriffed.

He hadn’t immediately come over to where you were serving up drinks at the bar, but your eyes, as usual, had followed him the entire time as he made his way around. As a Commander he was a notable figure, the men around him parted in respect, heads nodding in acknowledgment as he moved about the bar. He stopped every once and a while to speak with other clones but it didn’t take long before he was standing before you at the bar, the barest hint of a smirk on his face as your eyes connected.

“What can I get for you, Commander?” You had been impressed with your ability to sound casual despite feeling as though you were about to crawl out of your own skin at any moment as his dark gaze swept over you.

“The usual,” The look in his brown eye had made it clear he was not talking about a drink.

Your entire body had felt as if it was engulfed in flames as he looked at you. Fleetingly you’d remembered something about a speech, but all words were lost and you had given him an almost indistinguishable nod without another thought.

And that was how you found yourself in your current situation. Two standard hours later, sitting on the end of your bed in your small apartment, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you watched Wolffe remove his armour piece by piece. Unable to let go of him despite knowing it would be the best before he completely wrecked you.

It wasn’t just the intimacy though that had you unable to resist him, even though it was admittedly the best you’d ever had, it was the moments between and after too. The moments when you’d fall back in bed beside one another, satiated and panting. When the walls between you would crumble and you’d talk for hours about anything and everything as the night would wear on. It was those moments where you’d get him to smile, or pull a rare chuckle from him. When you’d look over at him and his gaze would be warm, his face relaxed, the stress of his life forgotten for a moment, and looking as young as he actually was. You loved those moments just as much, if not more than the intimate ones. You were falling in love with him. No matter how hard you tried to push it away it was undeniable.

He was so beautiful. So much so that it was as if he’d walked straight off the screen of one of your favourite holo dramas. You drank the sight of him in greedily, the deep bronze of his skin, the strong slope of his shoulders, the dark hair covering the broad expanse of his chest, the lines of his abdomen trailing down in a v to his hips. No matter how many times the two of you had done this the sight of him never failed to make you flush.

You stood as he slowly approached the bed, your dressing gown slipping from your shoulders and pooling around your feet in a silky puddle. His gaze was hungry as it roved over your body, the look making your insides squirm pleasantly. You were already wet with anticipation and you clamped your thighs together to create some friction as he stopped in front of you, so close that your chests were nearly touching. He was always so warm and his hand burned pleasantly against your skin as he reached up to touch you, trailing sensuously down from the base of your throat to your hip. His grip against your hip was firm as his eyes roved your face, as though he were searching for something in your expression.

The look made you nervous, as though he could see the traitorous feelings that had been growing in you over the past few months. But you did your best to keep your features schooled despite the small part of you that reminded you this was a bad idea, that you had decided to put a stop to this so he couldn’t find out. However, that logical part was almost completely drowned out by the need coursing through your body. You wanted him so badly and in that moment you were willing to take whatever he would give you.

“What do you want?” His voice was so low it rumbled straight from his chest, the sound sent a tingle through your spine.

He always asked the question and your answer was always the same, “You.”

He didn’t need to know that your answer had begun to take on new meaning over the past few months.

An involuntary squeak left your mouth as he lifted you straight off the ground, your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively bringing your bodies even closer together. He moved until his knees hit the bed before he gently tossed you down onto it as though you weighed nothing at all. You landed with a giggle, heart racing in your chest as you grinned up at him. You only just caught a flash of his answering grin before he was on top of you, teeth nipping at your neck as his hands roamed your body. You felt yourself come alive under his touch, no one had ever made you feel the way he did.

He spread your legs with a rough touch, slotting himself between your thighs as his hands moved to your knees to keep you in place. He leaned back slightly, his gaze dark and devouring as it roved your body. His look alone was enough to have you shivering as you were spread beneath him.

He leaned forward again, his mouth nipping at your ear gently as he spoke in that irresistibly rough voice of his, “You are so beautiful.”

You shivered again as his one hand slipped up your thigh, moving achingly slow towards your core, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you all night,” He continued as your eyes slipped closed, you bit your lip to try and keep a moan from escaping you as his hand finally dipped into your folds, “It should be a crime for you to look that good.”

This time you were unable to stop your moan as his calloused fingers brushed over your clit, slowly and methodically. It took all of the strength you possessed to open your eyes once more to meet his gaze as he continued to explore every inch of you, “It was all just for you.” It was true, when you had chosen your work outfit for the night he had been the only one on your mind. And it had been worth it, you’d felt his eyes on you the entire night while you finished your shift.

His gaze grew darker and a low rumble sounded in his throat at your words. The sound drove you wild and you tilted your hips, aching for him to touch you more, to build the friction between the two of you. You wanted him so baldly. No matter how many times the two of you did this that ache never seemed to lessen. Your need was nearly blinding and you panted with need beneath him. His pace remained the same despite it, slow and methodical as he slipped two fingers into your slick core, thumb rubbing against your clit as you mewled with pleasure.

“Wolffe…” You whined as he brought you closer to the edge, though not enough to tip you fully over. It was maddening but at the same time, you never wanted him to stop. Your knees clamped around his hips, pulling him closer to you, determined to keep him in place but you weren’t strong enough to stop him as he leaned back, hand going with him and leaving you desperate.

You pouted up at him, but he only smirked down at you, his brown and silver eyes winking in the light of the passing speeders outside.

“Easy, darling,” He purred, which was enough to have you pressing your legs together once more, seeking the friction you had lost. He chuckled lowly at the sight of you writhing in front of him before he reached a hand out to your hip, gently guiding you up from the bed.

“Flip over,” He rumbled, his hand squeezing you gently as your heart raced in your chest.

You did as you were told, flipping over on shaky legs as he continued to guide your hips up until you were kneeling on the bed. You could feel the heat radiating off of Wolffe from where he was standing behind you. His length was long and hard against your thigh as he leaned over you, hand sliding gently across your skin and making you shudder. His fingers found your core once more, gliding over your entrance for a moment before his thumb found you clit. You gasped, hands gripping at the bed sheets as you leaned further into him, it was at once too much and not enough. He truly was going to be the death of you.

You felt as if you were going to combust, lost in the sensation of his hand on you, the heat of him pressed against your back. You were rapidly climbing towards your release, desperate to tip over into pleasure.

He nipped at the junction between your neck and shoulder, your back arching up into him at the sensation of his teeth against your skin. You moaned loudly as he slid two fingers inside of you, your cunt instantly clutching around him as the welcome intrusion. His thumb continued to work against your clit as he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting that spot that had you seeing stars. You felt as if your body was on fire, the sensations overwhelming and you panted, your breaths ragged as he continued his ministrations.

“Wolffe…” You gasped as his thumb continued to massage your clit, his fingers curling and relaxing inside of you as you hurtled toward your release. Tease gathered in the corners of your eyes at the overwhelming sensation, you were so close.

Your body was trembling beneath him, breathing ragged as you felt the slick of your cunt running over his fingers and down your legs.

He pressed even further into you, every line of his body meeting yours perfectly as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, “That’s it, sweetheart, let me hear you,” His voice rumbled through his chest and straight into you.

“Wolffe…” You gasped, barely able to speak with how close you were.

He chuckled and then suddenly he was nipping at your neck once more.

And that was all it took. The feeling of his teeth against you once more sent you tumbling over the edge and you came hard against his fingers. Moaning loudly, stars popping behind your eyes as your cunt fluttered around his fingers as your orgasm ripped through you. You tipped forward slightly as your limbs went limp with your release but as always, Wolffe had you. With his free hand, he wrapped a strong arm around your middle, keeping you upright as you rode out the waves of your orgasm.

You moaned once more, eyes still squeezed shut as his fingers slid out of you. You instantly missed him but before you could even protest he had shifted once more above you and you groaned as you felt the head of his cock glide through your slick to nudge against your cunt. You had barely come down from your first high but the sensation of him pressing against you had your stomach tightening once more in anticipation.

He pressed slowly into you, giving you the time to adjust to his size. You pressed back into him, groaning as his length filled you so completely, at the friction building in you once more. Your hands fisted in the bed sheets once more as his hands gripped your hips, guiding you slowly over his cock, almost torturously.

He swore lowly under his breath, fingers tightening on your hips, pressing groves into your skin as you slowly met him thrust for thrust.

You moaned, head tipping down towards your chest as your back ached up into him, pressing back to feel every inch of him. He moaned, your name escaping from between his teeth as a hiss before he pulled all the way out before slamming back in. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass filled the room, and your hold on the sheets tightened as his pace went from slow to fast in an instant.

His body bent over yours even more, chest pressed against you, one hand still on your hip while the other slid around to slide up your body. His large hand engulfed your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers as you gasped and panted beneath him. You had thought your first orgasm had drained you but you were quickly building to another as he thrust rapidly in and out of you, the head of his cock hitting you just right at this angle.

Wolffe licked and nipped his way up your sweat-soaked spine, sending shudders through your body. You felt as if you were floating, every limb weightless as desired pooled in your abdomen. No one had ever made you feel the way he did.

Your name fell from his lips once more like a prayer, his hips stuttering against you for a moment, hands pressing so hard into your flesh you knew it would leave a mark.

Suddenly he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder and somehow the gesture was more intimate than anything you had ever shared. It was as if a cold bucket of water had suddenly been poured over you. Your body tensed involuntarily as your thoughts went from focused entirely on your pleasure to all over the place. Your pulse raced beneath your skin and your throat contracted with panic as all of the feelings you had been trying so hard to bury rushed to the surface.

You didn’t kiss. He was all tongue and teeth but he had never actually kissed you before. The two of you had come to some unspoken understanding that kissing would cross the no-strings-attached line. And up until that very moment, you both had abided by this rule. No matter how quick and innocent it had been it had left you completely unmoored. Your thoughts were reeling out of control, trying to find meaning in the gesture when logically you knew there likely wasn’t any. You so desperately wanted it to mean something. Your eyes blurred, stinging as your breath came out in a ragged pant. You weren’t sure who you were angrier at, him or yourself.

Wolffe froze, clearly noticing the tension that had suddenly appeared in your body. He murmured your name, his hand gentle against your skin, but you barely heard him over your own raging thoughts.

“I can’t -“ you finally managed to choke out, pulling away from him and rolling onto your back on the bed. Panic and embarrassment were flooding through you, your eyes burned as you looked up at the concern and confusion etched on his face. He rocked back to rest on his heels, the lines of his body holding the same tension as your own as he looked at you.

“Are you ok?” His voice was so gentle that it made your heart break even more, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no of course you didn’t hurt me,” At least not physically and not intentionally. It was your own inability to remain casual that suddenly had you panicking at his touch, “I just can’t do this anymore…”

His face was etched with confusion, dark brow furrowing above eyes that had tensed at the corners, “What do you mean?”

“I thought I could do no strings attached. I thought I’d be fine,” You answered, unable to fully meet his gaze as your voice quivered. You steeled yourself despite wanting to do nothing more than run from the room and never see him again. But the damage was already done, the least you could do now was explain, no matter what the outcome might be, “But then you go and kiss me like that and I want more. I want you, all of you.”

You looked up at him as you spoke the last word, searching his face for any sort of reaction despite being terrified of what you might find there. But his face remained as unreadable as always. His expression was impassive, as though you had made a comment about the weather and not essentially expressed your undying love for him. Your eyes began to burn as the silence between you stretched on unbearably long. Finally, it became too much for you to handle, the emotions inside you bubbling over as you reached up to press your hands to your face, covering your eyes as the tears pooled. You felt so embarrassed, so angry at yourself for being unable to keep your feelings for him under control. You wished a hole would open up beneath your bed and swallow you so you no longer had to experience his rejection.

You took a shaky breath, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes as you tried your best to get your emotions back under control. It was fine, you tried to tell yourself. You could survive this. Despite how much it hurt and despite how much you would miss him you could live without him. It was better in the long run, you tried to convince yourself, better to be hurt now than hurt even worse later on.

The thoughts running rampant in your head were suddenly cut off by two large, calloused hands gently grasping your wrists. He pulled gently until your hands came away from your face and continued to pull until you were sitting upright in front of him. Despite your surprise at the fact that he hadn’t immediately run from the room you still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, you didn’t want him to see the tears that you knew were lingering in your eyes.

“Hey,” He murmured softly, “Look at me,” he lifted one hand to gently rest under your chin, tipping your head up towards him.

You had no choice but to meet his gaze, tears still threatening to fall from your eyes and your pulse raced beneath your skin. His expression was still impassive, giving away absolutely nothing of his thoughts. It made you even more nervous but you took a deep steadying breath, steeling yourself for whatever he was about to say.

His face might not have been giving anything away, but as your eyes connected something was pooling in the depth of his brown eye that had your heart kicking into overdrive.

He was silent for another long moment before he spoke, his voice a soft murmur, as though he were afraid to disturb the silence in your room, “You have me. You’ve had me for a long time.”

He looked away after he spoke, as though embarrassed by his admission. But you couldn’t look away from him, stunned by his words. Was he actually saying that the entire time you’d been agonizing over your feelings for him he had been feeling the exact same way?

Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you watched him, a hundred different things rushing through your head. Of course what finally came out was much less articulate, “You…what?”

Wolffe’s answering chuckle was a soft rumble as he turned his gaze back towards you, “You’re really going to make me say it again?” he grunted, dark brow furrowing as the corners of his mouth turned down. But there was a lightness in his brown eye that you had had the privilege of seeing only a few times before. To everyone else, Wolffe was stalwart bordering on grumpy but you knew there was a lot more lingering beneath his surface that he let very few people see it. It was just one of the many things you loved about him. Even if at this moment his aversion to outward emotional displays was driving you a bit crazy.

“I’m yours,” He repeated when it was clear you were just going to continue gaping at him silently.

You didn’t think it was possible but your heart rate seemed to pick up a notch, and your stomach tightened with the emotions that were rushing through you. You felt a flush creep its way up your neck and onto your face. But despite the emotional reaction you were having you couldn’t quite believe he meant his words the same way you did.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

He seemed to consider his words for a moment before he spoke, “You might have noticed that I’m not the best with words,” He grumbled, one brow quirking up as he looked at you, “And I was the one who insisted we keep it casual. I guess a part of me didn’t want to admit I blew it almost immediately. The other part was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same…”

You shook your head, a sharp chuckle escaping you before you could stop it, “You stubborn ass,” Your voice was almost breathless as you moved so you were in front of him once more, knees touching, “Do you know how long I’ve been worrying about this?? I even prepared a breakup speech!”

Wolffe’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a small smirk crossing his face, “Really? Well, let’s hear it then.”

“No!” You protested, moving again so that your hands were on him once more, slowly trailing up from his chest to rest on his jawline, cradling his face, “That speech will never see the light of day. I want you Wolffe, all of you. Only you.”

He leaned into your touch, gaze softening once more, “C’mere,” He murmured as his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

Without another thought you were kissing him, the space between your bodies disappearing as you straddled him on the bed. He moaned softly against you, his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head, pulling you closer as he gently nipped at your lower lip. You had pictured the first time you would truly kiss him a thousand times before, but none of your fantasies had ever come close the the real thing. You wanted him so badly that it was nearly overwhelming.

His erection pressed against you as you licked at his lips before tangling your tongue with his own. Your kisses were needy, desperate. As though now that you had started you would never be able to get enough of one another.

Desire raged in your core once more as your hands slid down from his face, slowly across his neck, and down to his strong chest, fingers tangling in the course hair that covered his pecs.

Wolffe pulled away from you slightly, just enough that your eyes could meet, “Gods, I’ve wanted you for so long,” His grip on you tightened, leaving you breathless.

“I’m yours,” You whispered back, repeating his earlier words.

His gaze was dark and ravenous as he shifted slightly, his erection dragging against your hot and slick core. With a single easy motion, he sheathed himself inside of you, filling you so completely it left you gasping in his arms, head dipping towards your chest at the overwhelming sensation.

He gave you a moment to adjust before he slowly began to thrust up into you, pressing kisses to your neck, jaw, lips, anywhere he could reach as you clung to him.

You were rapidly hurtling towards an orgasm as your thrusts met his. His cock hitting that spot deep inside of you perfectly each time, your clit rubbing against the base of him with every thrust. You moaned, eyes closing as you gripped his shoulders, using them for leverage as your chest rubbed against his own. Your legs began to shake as his pace increased, thrusts turning desperate as you rode him.

Wolffe’s head dipped to press a kiss just below your collarbone as his one hand snuck between your bodies to palm your breast. His other hand remained on your hip, guiding your thrusts, his touch almost bruising.

You were so close it was almost unbearable, your heart fluttered beneath your skin, every inch of you feeling as if you were about to combust with each press of his lips against your skin. But you managed to open your eyes, finding his own lust-filled gaze looking back up at you as your hand trailed from his shoulder to his neck, tilting his head up towards you.

He met you eagerly, lips crashing into your own as his thrust grew frantic. His tongue pressed into your mouth as you bucked against his hips and that was all it took for you to finally tip over the edge. Your orgasm was blinding, walls clenching sharply around his cock, as the waves of pleasure rolled through you. Every limb felt like a live wire and you tossed your head back with a moan, your grip on him the only thing keeping you tethered.

Wolffe groaned, his thrusts losing their rhythm for a moment as your cunt continued to milk him as the waves of bliss overtook you.

Your name was on his lips once more, a hiss of air as his hips stuttered before he came with a shudder, “Fuck, you’re perfect,” He groaned as he filled you.

You were both panting, chests rising and falling as you both rode out the waves of your combined pleasure. Wolffe leaned forward once more to kiss your shoulder, your neck, and your jaw before finding your lips once more. You raised your hands to drag your fingers through his cropped black hair as you met his kiss, pressing into him.

He chuckled softly as he noticed your legs shake, and with a single smooth motion he wrapped his arms around you, leaning forward and then rolling you both over until you were lying side by side in your bed. You both lay there panting for a long moment, heat still pooled low in your belly from the lingering effects of your orgasm.

Once your breathing had returned somewhat to normal you turned your head to look over at Wolffe, only to find he was already gazing at you. The smallest hint of a smile was on his face, which was essentially the Wolffe equivalent of a beaming smile. Your own face brightened before you rolled slightly to rest your head on his chest, instinctually his arm moved to wrap around you, pulling you closer as your limbs tangled together.

“You’ll stay?” You asked softly, your eyes beginning to grow heavy as the heat of his body seeped into your own.

“I’m not going anywhere,” He replied lowly, you felt his response in his chest more than you even heard it, “Ever.”

And you believed him. You finally knew at that moment that his feelings for you were a reflection of your own. And you knew that he would do everything in his power to keep that promise to you. Forever.

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