#i was just trying to come up with something that wasn't her going 'and? what do you want a bone from the guy?"

[steddieprompts]

part 2 of this thing

The rest of the night the two sat on the couch, ate icecream and watched shitty comedy movies. Steve finally got Eddie to watch Major League and Eddie had to admit it was his favorite sports movie so far.

Eddie fell asleep on the couch as usual and Steve covered him with a blanket before heading to his room for the night.

They didn't talk about the situation with Tommy after that night. In all honestly Steve was happy to see the back of it as well as Tommy himself. Seeing him again was such a violent flashback to the person he was before... he didn't like thinking about it. He hoped Tommy loved New York so much he never stepped foot in Indiana again.

Of course Steve could never be that lucky.

It was a Monday night and the apartment was sweltering.

"I thought Daryl said he fixed the AC?" Steve said, fiddling with the knobs on the unit.

"Daryl says alot of things" Eddie's voice echoed from where his head was stuck in the freezer.

"Let's just go to the movies. At least their AC works," Steve grumbled.

Eddie pulled his head out of the freezer. "I'm in." He agreed and grabbed his wallet off the counter as he followed Steve out of the apartment... before shoving the handful of icecubes he snuck out of the freezer down the back or Steve's tucked in polo. His screech was so loud old lady Laski stuck her head out of her apartment to yell at them.

"Sorry, Muriel!" Eddie said through his cackling before they shoved their way out of the building.

Inside the theater the air was crisp and cool.

"Genius, Stevie," Eddie said, flipping his hair over the back of the seat and sliding down until his ass was almost off the seat. "I gotta pee," he announced and immediately stood back up. Jesus Christ he heard Steve mutter. "You want popcorn?"

"Nah. I'm good." Steve hummed as he closed his eyes.

After the bathroom, Eddie went to the concession stand and got himself a popcorn (large, because he knew Steve would steal some) and Steve a Sprite with extra ice.

When he turned away from the counter he nearly dropped it though. Across the room, just coming in the door, was Hagan.

Why was he still here? Shouldn't he be back in New York by now?

Eddie decided to ignore him... and the other guy he was with, some jock type Eddie faintly recognized from high school. He headed back towards the theater doors, but he wasn't as inconspicuous as he hoped.

Before he could get into the theater, Tommy sidled in front of the door.

"Well look who it is," Tommy smirked at him. "Out without your little body guard?"

"Body guard? Who, Steve?"

"I know he was lying to protect you. I can't figure out why." Tommy said, taking a threatening step toward Eddie.

He had about enough of this.

Eddie mirrored Tommy, taking a step forward and getting obnoxiously close to his face.

"Tommy, Tommy, Tommy," Eddie said his name like he felt so so bad for him, "Steve, the love of my life, is right in there." He tilted his head towards the door, "And believe me, he wasn't protecting me the other night, he was protecting you."

Eddie stared him down for a second before suddenly sticking out his tongue and making a guttural hiss. Tommy startled and jerked back into his jock friend. "Enjoy your film... and try not to think about what's in the dark." Eddie said sweetly before slipping into the theater, but not without hearing Tommy mutter "Freak" as the door closed.

Eddie hustled back to their seats, nearly spilling half the popcorn on the way.

"Steve!" He whisper yelled as he came down the row. He didn't really need to whisper, though, as the only other people in the theater were a couple teenagers in the back. "Steve!" He said again as he plopped down in his seat.

"What? Is that for me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got you a Sprite, Tommy is here." Eddie said all in one breath. Steve nearly choked on the sip he took. "And I might have talked to him."

"Eddie..."

"And I might have lead him to believe that I cursed him or something. Hissed in his face."

"Wha... why?"

"He called you my body guard. Oh, and you're the love of my life now."

"Body gu... wait. awww you love me??" Steve said, sickly sweet and batting his eyelashes.

"Madly, darling," Eddie replied in his worst trans-atlantic accent. Steve chuckled.

"He seriously said I was your body guard?"

"Yeah he thinks we're pretending."

"Well fuck him."

"That's what I say," Eddie grumbled. He didn't like being called a liar even when he was one.

At the back of the theater the door opened and Steve peaked behind him through the seats and low and behold... Tommy Hagan.

"It's him," Steve grumbled.

"Huh?" Eddie asked, distracted by the movie previews.

"Tommy." He turned to Eddie. "You haven't suddenly developed boundaries in the last five minutes have you?"

"No, why?"

Steve surged forward, pressing his lips to Eddie's and cupping his jaw. Eddie made a surprised noise before pressing back, his hand finding Steve's waist, fisting his shirt.

After a few seconds Steve pulled back, meaning to look over at Tommy to cement the deal, but he got... distracted, watching Eddie's eyes flutter open, seeing how they danced over Steve's face as he processed.

"I see what the big deal is now," He finally said. Steve let out a soft chuckle, still enraptured by Eddie... and wasn't that a thought.

Eddie looked over Steve's shoulder, picking Tommy out in the dark, the light of the screen highlighting him. Slowly Eddie wiggled his fingers at him in a little wave.

Steve finally looked back at him, just in time for Tommy to storm out of the theater, his new cronie following behind.

"Wow," Eddie mused, "That worked surprisingly well." Eddie looked back at Steve, "You think he's jealous?"

"Dude!" Steve whined before sliding down in his seat.

"Think Tommy wants a little King action?"

"If you don't stop, I'm leaving you here and you can walk home."

Eddie cackled, settling down as the movie started.

But Steve couldn't concentrate. Kissing Eddie was... nice. To be fair, Steve hadn't been with anyone in a while but... that wasn't entirely the reason. He felt something he hadn't felt in a while. As cliche as it sounded... he felt a spark.

Maybe Eddie had felt it too.

The movie went by too fast but when they stepped back outside the sun had set and the heat had dissipated. Tommy was no where to be found.

As they drove home, Eddie was strangely reserved. They talked about the movie, about going to work in the morning, but the conversation didn't take any wild turns like they usually did. Steve didn't even have to scold Eddie for sitting sideways in the seat.

When they got back into the apartment Eddie didn't flop down on the couch or root around in the fridge, just said he was gonna head to bed before going into his room. Steve looked at the clock. It was only 8:30.

He tried to ignore it, but he couldn't. He brushed his teeth, changed his clothes, sat down and turned on the TV, but he couldn't ignore how strange it was. And it wasn't hard to guess why.

He shook out his shoulders before he knocked on Eddie's door.

"Yeah?" Eddie called from inside, Steve could here him quietly picking at his guitar.

"Can we talk? Please?"

The guitar stopped and Eddie opened the door, already in the ratty black Sabath shirt he usually slept in.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry... but I'm not."

"About what?"

"Kissing you like that. I should have... given you more warning."

"It's alright, Steve, I'm not mad."

"Maybe not, but something is wrong."

"It's fine, Steve, don't worry about it."

"No," Steve's hand shot out as Eddie tried to close his door. "I'm sorry, Eddie. I just... Please just talk to me, okay?" His hand dropped from the door, but caught Eddie's fingers on the way. He tangled them together before asking softly, "please?"

Eddie looked at their hands before saying "What is this?" He looked up at Steve taking a steadying breath, but it barely got rid of the tightness, the wobble. "What...?"

"Eddie, I know how this started but I can help but feel maybe... I dont know. I think there's something. Maybe we've been ignoring it."

"Are you fucking with me, Steve? Because I can't..." Eddie hated how his throat was closing up with fear, with hope.

"I'm not, I promise you," Steve stepped forward, tightening his grip on Eddie's hand, "I've never felt so at home with someone, so happy, and kissing you... Eddie. I can't let this go unless you tell me to."

Eddie swallowed, swallowed again, until he got enough courage to lean forward, softly, gently, and pressed his lips to Steve's for the second time that night.

The kiss was soft and gentle until he felt Steve smile against his lips and he couldn't hold back. He felt himself laugh as he pressed forward, Steve pulling him back until they hit the wall across the hall, laughing when it took Steve by surprise. They broke apart, Steve peppering kisses up Eddie's cheek to his temple.

"You uh," Steve said through a smile, "You want to go out sometime?"

Eddie threw his head back as his happiness and relief burst out of him in a laugh. "Yeah, sweetheart," Eddie smiled at him. "Let's go out."

[finelinevogue]

personal heating pad

summary - you have endometriosis but you're lucky you also have aaron

pairing - aaron hotchner x bau!endo-reader [1.2k]

a/n: i was listening to 'try' by p!nk and inspiration hit plus i am on my period and hating every minute of it... might make this a series? cw: she/her pronouns used

"Son of a..."

You keeled over yourself as another strong, stabbing, pain came across your lower abdomen. You blew out a deep breath before attempting to stand back up.

Periods sucked.

They sucked even worse when you had a condition like endometriosis.

The pain was doubled - sometimes you couldn't even get out of bed. You constantly had a heat pad on your lower abdomen throughout your cycle and you were constantly downing cocktails of medication.

Nothing helped you more - maybe not literally, but at least emotionally - than Aaron Hotchner though.

Your fiancé of 4 months now, Aaron knew all about your battle with endometriosis and yet he still had stuck by you all this time and had even gotten down on one knee.

Previous relationships had always failed because of the knowledge that endometriosis means there's a low chance of having a baby. Aaron chose to stay, though.

"I have Jack and I have you. What more could I need?" You remember Aaron telling you.

"Fuck." You swore as another cramp tore through your happy thoughts.

You had been on the way to get a shower, but even that seemed like too much of a task now thanks to the pain. You sat at the bottom of the stairs in your house, back to the wall as you closed you eyes and breathed through the pain.

Your phone started ringing.

But it was ringing from another room.

Your face scrunched in frustration as you cursed yourself for leaving your phone out of reach. There was no way you were moving from this spot for at least half an hour - you physically couldn't.

<.><.>

On the other side of the city Hotch was pacing in his office.

He sighed as he pulled his phone away from his ear as he heard your voicemail click again.

A knock on the door pulled him away from his internal panic.

"You okay?" Morgan asked.

Hotch sighed again, tucking his phone into his blazer pocket. "Y/N won't answer her phone."

Morgan frowned, "That's not like her."

"No, I know. That's what worries me." Hotch ran his hand over is jaw as he contemplated the next step.

"It's her day off right? She could be out with a friend." Morgan tried to reason with his stressed boss.

"No, it's... She..." Hotch frowned. He couldn't exactly explain why he knew you weren't out with a friend without explaining your condition - something you hadn't told the team and it wasn't his news to spread.

"Okay, well, uh, I'm sure Rossi and the rest of us can hold down the fort if you wanna go check on her." Morgan suggested.

Hotch just gave a meaningful nod in return and didn't waste another minute before leaving his office.

<.><.>

You felt yourself come around as the front door opened.

You hadn't even realised you'd gone to sleep until your eyes reopened. It was hard to know how long you'd been sat on the stairs for now without a clock nearby, but judging by how cold you were you'd say it had been a while.

When Aaron rounded the front door you could tell he was readying to bellow your name, until he saw you sat there.

His heart nearly broke seeing you.

It was so unfair that you had to go through this every month for over half of the month. He would never be able to comprehend how you were so strong to carry on through it.

"Hey sweetheart." Aaron spoke softly.

He came and crouched down in front of where you were still sat on the bottom step. One of his hands came to rest on your knee, whilst the other checked your temperature against your forehead.

"Hi." Your eyes were still heavy. Your arms remained wrapped around yourself as if that would somehow lessen the pain.

"How long have you been here for?"

"How long ago did you leave for work?" You joked.

Aaron smiled along with you but it you could tell it was out of pity more than anything.

Aaron quickly shuffled off his blazer and moved your body slightly so he could wrap it around you. You shivered under the new found warmth, the remanence of his heat still lingered on his jacket.

"You taken any medication?" He asked more seriously.

"No."

"Honey..." Aaron's frown shifted to one of disappointment.

"Don't give me that look." You sighed.

"It's only 'cause I care about you. You know that." Aaron leaned forwards so he could delicately kiss your forehead, careful not to knock you in any way that would hurt you.

"I hate this." You said quietly, tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

"I know." Aaron said, knowing that trying to say anything positive to fill in the sadness was worse than saying nothing at all. You hated it when people tried to spin a positive on this, because there really wasn't one. All you needed was someone to hold your hand through it and you were lucky that that someone was Aaron.

"Thank you for being here."

"Anytime, sweetheart."

<.><.>

It was hours later and you were in your happy place.

Aaron had helped you up the stairs and into the shower. He'd helped you shower and then get into bed without any troubles.

You were enveloped in a large hoodie of his, hood pulled up over your head as you laughed at something Aaron had just said. Both of you were nestled in your bed under the warm light of your salt lamp.

Aaron laid beside you, watching you closely, one arm draped across your waist whilst his fingertips traced soothing patterns against your skin.

You know he hates seeing you in pain, but Aaron knows that distraction—especially his laughter—can sometimes help more than anything else.

“You know, for an FBI unit chief, you’re a surprisingly good nurse.”

A cup of peppermint tea was still warm on your bedside table. You could tell that Aaron was keeping a mental note on how long the tea had left before he would need to go an re-warm it for you. He was too sweet. Your meds were stacked on the side too next to a fresh glass of water.

Aaron chuckled at your silliness, “I'm going to take that as a compliment.”

You turned your head to look at him better, wincing when the movement created a flare up in your lower tummy, “You shouldn’t. You have the same energy as a dad who's trying to help but is just holding out a bottle of ibuprofen like, ‘This fixes everything, right?’”

Aaron shook his head at you, but knowing he had no leverage on reprimanding you right now.

“I am a dad.”

“Jack probably gives you the same ‘you tried’ look I’m giving you right now.” You gave him a deadpan look - trying your best not to laugh.

“Not true. Jack thinks I know everything.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

As if you could move anywhere even if you did want to, you thought to yourself.

“That’s because you’re warm and I refuse to give up my human heating pad.” You brought his hand from your waist to push it down just above your panties.

Aaron knew what to do immediately. He spread his hand over the skin there and it immediately felt like you had a secondary heating pad on - it was magical. There was something so intimate about the situation that was more personal than any sort of sexual act.

The moment was ruined seconds later, “So you’re only using me for my body?” Aaron asked.

You snuggled closer to him, preparing to cash in for the evening, “Obviously.”

[joelmillerisapunk]

MILLLLAAAAAA I have not known peace since reading this

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE ENTIRE INTIMATE SCENE HOLY SMOKES IM DIZZYYYY

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

AND THE END AHHH IM SOBBING

Close-up

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It could only be you. 

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

that’s fucked up, Will

*Will calling*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until it was over. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ok, set up a meeting

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joel, please, listen to me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You knew it, you knew why.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anything to keep his mind busy.

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

“You still like the white?” you asked.

He did. Some things never changed.

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

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

It was. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whether in a relationship or not.

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

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

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

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

“For what, Joel?” you asked questioningly.

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

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

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

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

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

“To do what?”

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

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

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

“Ouch!” he replied exaggeratedly.

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

“A little,” he laughed.

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

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

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

But he couldn’t ask you that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh… well… yeah. I never stopped.”

“Can I?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ ‘ course I did.”

You nodded, your throat tight.

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

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

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

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

Two days later, he texted you

“I’m in”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I missed you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s ok,” you smiled.

“Action!”

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

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

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

He could feel your wet panties through the fabrics.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too,” was his.

“Cut!! That was amazing, great job!!”

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

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

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

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

“I, huh…” you stammered.

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

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“I miss you, Joel.”

“No, don't…  Please, don’t say that.”

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

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

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

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

You took his hand and led him to your room.

“Undress me,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you ok?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joel…” you whimpered.

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

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

“Lemme try, ok?”

“Ok,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, need to feel you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, sweetheart….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you for reading 🙏

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[alexanderwales]

The Hour of Truth

The spell made people tell the truth.

It was expensive, but not so expensive it didn't find its use. The intelligence services spent enormous amounts of money on it, it was part of every serious interview, and the legal system relied on it.

This isn't a story about one of those. It's a story about Michael and Sarah, in their dining room with a ReadySpell, engaged to be married but without a date set. It was a gift they were giving to themselves, something that would reassure them, a chance to explore each other. Michael was cheery about the whole thing, but Sarah was decidedly less so.

She unrolled the parchment onto the table they'd assembled from a kit three months prior. She read the instructions on the card, which were dead simple, then placed her fingers on two corners of the parchment, with Michael doing the same. The complex lines in the center glowed, a circle burst into flames for half a second, and then it went still and dull.

"That's it then?" Michael asked. He withdrew his fingers. "That's the whole thing? I somehow thought it would be ... more."

"We're supposed to test it," she said, withdrawing her own fingers and picking up the card. "Say something false. There are test phrases."

"Two plus two is ... hrm. Four." He frowned. "I could feel a resistance. What an odd feeling."

"My head ... no, can't do it," Sarah said, reading the first part from the card. "It says, 'my head exploded today'. I can't finish the sentence."

"Well then," Michael said. He spread his hands, palms up. "Here we are."

"One hour," Sarah said with a nod. She placed the instruction card down and flipped the small hourglass that had come with the kit.

"Do you love me?" Michael asked.

"I do," Sarah replied. She said it solemnly. "Do you love me?"

"Of course," Michael replied. "Well, it would have been extremely embarrassing if we hadn't answered those correctly." He tapped his fingers on the table for a moment. "How many children do you want?"

"Two, or maybe three," said Sarah.

"I want two, but could go for a third," said Michael.

They had talked about it before. You didn't get engaged after four years of dating without having had those conversations at some point.

"It's interesting, isn't it?" asked Michael. "We know each other, but I suppose there's always at least a little doubt until you're under the spell. A difference between knowing and knowing."

"We only have an hour," said Sarah. "Rapid fire?"

"Sure," said Michael with a nod.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?" asked Sarah.

"Yes," said Michael. "You?"

"Yes. Will you stay faithful to me?"

"Yes. You?"

"Yes. Do you have unresolved feelings for anyone?"

"No. You?"

"No." Sarah paused. "How often do you need to have sex?"

"Need?" asked Michael. "I'm not sure I even agree with that question. But I can answer want, which is what I've told you before, maybe two or three times a week."

"How often does it end up being that we have sex?" asked Sarah.

"Less than that," said Michael. He frowned at her. "Can you do that, ask questions you know the answer to? I suppose so."

"It's two point one times a week," said Sarah.

"How can you be that precise?" asked Michael.

"I've been tracking it," said Sarah. She folded her hands in front of her. "You know I like data. And I'll need to track it when we're trying for children."

"Is that the only reason you've been tracking it?" asked Michael. He had leaned back in his chair slightly.

"I was worried that it might come up," said Sarah with a slight sigh. "I was worried that we might get in an argument and you would say that we weren't having sex enough, and I wanted pre-emptive ammunition."

The spell did not actually compel her to say all that, but he could have poked and prodded and gotten around vague answers, so it was best to just tell him. She wasn't proud of it.

"How many times a week would be the right number for you?" asked Michael.

"Once a week," Sarah replied, which was what she'd told him before. "In an ideal world, I suppose."

"And you're saying that it's two?" asked Michael.

"Two point one," said Sarah.

"Is this ... a problem?" asked Michael. "I mean, it should be a compromise between us."

"It is a compromise," said Sarah. "And it's one that I'm fine with." She was coming off as defensive, she knew, but it was the truth, the spell still had plenty of time left.

It seemed to take him a moment to recognize that.

"You don't resent me?" asked Michael.

"No," said Sarah. She let a beat pass, to give him a chance to ask another question, then reached down to her purse and pulled out her notebook.

"Is that a notebook?" asked Michael.

"I had a few things prepared," said Sarah.

"Ah," said Michael. "Well, I'm an open book." He smiled at her.

Sarah looked down at the notebook. "Where were you last Thursday?"

"I ... need to think about that," said Michael. "I was working late, preparing for the pitch. I sent you a message, didn't I?"

"You did," said Sarah. "What happened after the pitch?"

"I came home," said Michael.

"Did you do anything else between finishing work and coming home?" she asked.

"No," he said.

She looked down at her notebook again. "Last June you went on a work trip, what did you do together?"

Michael looked at her for a moment. "We went out to dinner," he said, and anticipating the follow-up questions, he continued, "Afterward, on the second night we were there, the guys wanted to go to a strip club, and they did, but instead of doing that, I went back to my hotel room and sat there alone, because I knew you wouldn't understand that it's just ... a thing men do. But I didn't go to the strip club, I didn't see naked women, I just sat there watching a movie."

"Are you annoyed with me?" Sarah asked.

"Yes," Michael replied. "You don't trust me, and it's important, if we're getting married, for you to trust me."

"You cheated on me," Sarah said.

Michael pursed his lips. "Does it do us any good to have this conversation again with the spell active?"

"Probably, yes," Sarah said. "It would let me know you were honest."

Michael nodded. "It was one time. I had been drinking. There was something electric in the air, I don't know, this raw attraction that I had never felt, and I thought about you, and the thought seemed to just slide right off my brain. And then afterward, I felt so much guilt, like I had destroyed my entire life, and we'd only been dating for six months, so it felt like it was a sign, like I had revealed, too late, what you meant to me."

"When you went to bed with her, you thought that it was casual," Sarah said. "You thought that you would get away with it."

"Now hold on," Michael said, leaning forward slightly. "I was the one who told you. No one outed me, no one found anything out, it was my own conscience."

"A month late," said Sarah.

Michael nodded. "A month late. I wish that it had never happened. If it did have to happen, then I wish that I had told you right away. I was an asshole. But I've been faithful to you since then, I haven't done anything else, I ... I love you."

"Do you still think about her?" asked Sarah.

"Every now and then," said Michael. "Every month or two, she comes to mind. Mostly in a negative way."

"Mostly?" asked Sarah.

"Please," said Michael. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't think it's good that you keep dwelling on this, that you won't let this go." He looked down at the scroll, which had curled up slightly. "Is this why you wanted to do this?"

"Yes," said Sarah. "You said 'mostly', what does that mean? Mostly a negative way, which means that sometimes it's a positive way. Explain how."

Michael grit his teeth. "I am telling you, from the bottom of my heart, with a truth spell active, that it's not going to be good for either of us if we go down this path."

"I'm not marrying you unless you answer," Sarah said.

"That's the truth?" asked Michael. "I mean, you could have told me that before, you could have said that without the spell."

"You would have thought I was being manipulative," she replied.

"I think you're being manipulative now," Michael said. "You love me? You forgive me? You want to marry me?"

"Yes, yes, yes," said Sarah. "We're pulling out a rotten tooth, as I see it. I would have pulled it out on my own, if I could have, but I need you, and I need truth."

Michael took a breath. "I love you so much. You mean the world to me. I am so thankful to be marrying you, if that still happens." He took another breath. "The only thing I think, the only positive thought I have about her, is that she was more enthusiastic in bed. But I love you, Sarah, you are the only one I want to be with, it's not something that weighs on me, it's a consideration but it pales in comparison to everything else, you're smart, you're funny, you make me want to be a better man, these past four years I've become a better man."

"There have been times when you think to yourself that she was better in bed than I am?" asked Sarah. She had gone very still. She was swallowing the idea, in the same way that someone might swallow a caltrop.

"No," said Michael. "She wasn't 'better', she just ... wanted it in a way that you didn't. Don't. She was hungry for me in a way that you never are."

Sarah began to cry.

"I'm so sorry," said Michael. "But it doesn't mean anything to me, I told you that, it's an idle thought, it's got nothing to do with marriage, with partnership."

"I think I might be gay," said Sarah.

Michael stared at her. "What?" he asked. "What ... what does that mean?" He looked at the timer, which was still running down. "You said that once a week was what you'd prefer, did you mean with women?"

"No, I ..." she was sniffling, and went to her purse for a tissue, which she used to blot away her tears and wipe liquified snot from where it had gathered on her upper lip. "I enjoy having sex with you, I like the feeling of it. I do. That's true." She said it as though it was almost a revelation to hear it said under the truth spell, as though she wasn't certain that it would pass muster.

"Then what do you mean?" asked Michael. "Do you mean you might be ... bisexual?"

"I felt that heat for a woman," Sarah said. "For several women." She let out a breath. "I never did anything with them, I never even knew if it's what they would have wanted, but ... I don't know. It's confusing."

"But you still want to marry me," said Michael. "Even with that."

"I do," said Sarah. "I love you."

"I love you too," said Michael. He watched her face, as though he could read something there. He looked down at the timer. "Do you think this marriage is a good idea?"

"Yes," she replied. "Yes enough that I didn't have to add qualifications, I guess." She gave a nervous laugh. "Do you?"

"Yes," said Michael.

But as soon as he said it, he wasn't sure that it was true. Did the spell work like that? Could you say something that was untrue after you said it? There was a rising panic inside him, a feeling of being trapped with her that he'd never felt before, not before the affair or after.

"Let's set this aside," she said. "Let's be done with it. Okay?"

Michael nodded. He had wanted to say 'okay', but it wasn't.

[eitaababe]

Could I request a Jj x reader angst but with a happy ending ? Reader and Jj get into a fight and he says nasty things to her and they don’t speak for days until he sees her at a party where someone is flirting with her and they talk it out ?

TALK IT OUT.

jj maybank x kook! reader.

[ a/n ; this took entirely way too long for me to finish but lol hope you enjoy! ]

—

"JJ?" you called out softly, hearing the familiar onset of knocks at your bedroom window.

You could spot him through the glass– wearing a new bruise on his cheek. Sleepiness long forgotten, you jumped out of bed, quickly opening your window and ushering him in.

"Hey, Princess." He grinned the same toothy smile, as if his left cheek wasn't currently throbbing. Complying with your fussy movements, he sat at the edge of the bed, watching you rummage quietly around for a first aid kit.

You huffed, heading to your bathroom before coming back, the small bag in hand. "Jesus, what happened?" You muttered, more of a hypothetical question than anything else.

"You should see the other guy." He lightly jokes, avoiding the question altogether. It was like this every time– he'd show up, beaten and bruised, refusing to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation. And you knew it was coming from home, but JJ never let you catch onto more than that.

"JJ." You finally sighed out, tone stern.

"Y/n." He responded, grinning like a fool.

"I'm serious," you huffed. "You gotta tell me what's going on. This- this isn't healthy-"

"What, you want me to stop coming over here? I don't got anywhere else to go!" He scoffed, suddenly defensive.

"I want you to be honest with me!" You pleaded, still sitting at the edge of the bed, looking up as he paced throughout your room. "I know there's something going on at home, and I want to help, JJ-"

"You want me to be honest?" He breathed out, tongue poking at his cheek before he spoke up again. "Alright. Yeah, here's honesty- you live such a perfect life, princess. Nice house, nice family, living on figure 8. And you're what- hanging out with me? Some dirt bag from the cut? You wouldn't get what my life's like- alright? You can't understand."

"But I want to understand," you breathed out, standing and trying to meet his eyes. "If you'd just let me-"

"God, Y/n, I'm not some charity case! What, you gonna call CPS on me? Try and fix me? I'm already fucked up, I get that. But I don't need your fake pity. This- I don't know what you thought this was," he scoffs, each word digging further into your chest like a blade, "But this isn't a relationship, princess. It was just fun, okay? So stop tryin' to get all sappy-feely on me."

You recoiled at his words, going quiet. Your mind raced through all your times together, the pillow talks, late night rendezvous at the beach, or even the small and intimate moments where he'd come over, relying on you to patch him up and inevitably staying the night in your bed.

"Right," you agreed softly, missing the subtle regret on his face. "Sorry."

"Princess-"

"No, no, you're right," you shook your head, breathing out. "It's just casual. I shouldn't have overstepped," you cleared your throat, nodding towards the window. "You should go."

He went quiet, mouth opening and closing as if he tried to think of what to say in response. But he settled for a quick nod, crawling back out the window.

You don't reach out the next couple of days, ignoring JJ's attempts of trying to make small talk. But you'd caught yourself sulking in bed, deciding you needed to make a change. Sarah had coaxed you out of bed, deciding that a party with the kooks would be the best way to let loose.

You had your doubts, but she wouldn't take no for an answer.

So there you stood, next to the bonfire with a beer in hand. The night had been completely uneventful, until you were approached by some other party goer. You knew of the boy, his name has started with an E. Ethan? Evan? You racked your brain, plastering on a polite smile as he greeted you.

"Hey, Y/n," he grinned, nodding your way. "Having fun?"

"Hey, E..." you trailed off, a shy, slightly bashful smile on your face.

"Eden." He finished for you, chuckling. "Where's your bodyguard?"

You furrowed a brow, confused before it clicked. You and JJ always ended up at parties together, many aware of the unofficial official relationship you two had. It was another cruel reminder of his absence, but you pulled yourself out of it.

"Maybank? He's not- we're not really.."

"So you're available?" Eden grinned, his once boyish grin morphing into something that could only cause discomfort. You glanced around, hoping for an outlet out of the conversation.

"Okay, even if I was-" you scoffed, eyes widening when he took a step closer, the alcohol all consuming from his breath.

"Nah, cmon, let's go-"

"Hey, dickwad!"

You'd never been so happy to hear the familiar voice, turning and relaxing at the sight of his messy locks. JJ's arms were immediately on you, wrapping over your shoulder. "Tryin' to steal my girl?"

"Woah, she told me-"

"Get lost," JJ cut him off, grinning and waving him off with a gesture. Once he was out of sight, the blonde turned back to you, expression softening with concern. "You alright, baby? He didn't try anything, did-"

"I'm fine." You muttered, pulling back from his hold. You didn't meet his eye, your cold tone causing his shoulders to droop.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" He sighed, looking down at you. He paused, trying to collect his scattered thoughts. "I just- I've never really done anything more than hookups-"

"That's not an excuse-"

"Let me finish, woman," he huffed, pressing a finger over your lips to shut you up, suppressing a grin at the cute pout on your face. "I know it's not an excuse. But I got scared, and I didn't mean it, okay? It's just- you're perfect. You're from this great, rich, and nice family and I'm just- I'm just me. I'm broke, I have a dad who beats me, dirt poor-"

"You don't have to berate yourself so much, it's making me start to feel bad." You grumbled out, looking down at the space between you two.

"So you're sayin' it's working?" He grinned, lowering his head to meet your eyes. As the corners of your mouth quirked up, he pushed further. "Cmon, princess, y'know I'm sorry. Won't happen again."

You huffed at the promise, rolling your eyes. "Promise?"

"Scout's honor." JJ teased, eyes twinkling as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Any cold facade you'd put on melted at that, as you leaned in, head burying into his chest. "Asshole."

"I know." He laughed, playfully tickling your side. "And 'm sorry. Promise I'll talk with you about all that stuff."

"Good," you nodded, smiling softly up at him.

"Great," JJ added, grinning back. "Now can we please go back to the party so we can watch a drunk Kie yell about saving those damn turtles?"

[bestalbertcamuslover]

"if the sex was half as good as the conversation was, soon they'd be pushin' strollers"

↳ Masterlist

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing:  Sebastian Vettel x GF! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

She knew this moment would eventually come. He had suggested going back to his place for a drink after yet another wonderful date, and it was clear what that implied. Under different circumstances, she would have been more than eager—but instead, she felt terrified. Not of the act itself, but of whether she was any good at it.

Only a few months ago, she had been dating a friend of a friend. He was smart, handsome, and, more importantly, interesting—very interesting. Their dates were filled with amazing conversations, but when it came to the intimate part, he thought otherwise—and he was very vocal about it. That became the dealbreaker, and it planted a deep seed of insecurity in her.

Her chest rose and fell in sync with her breath, still catching up to reality, still trying to piece together the sensations coursing through her body. She felt warm, her skin sensitive, her limbs pleasantly heavy. And yet, beneath all of it, a quiet voice in the back of her mind whispered doubts she had tried so hard to ignore.

Sebastian lay beside her, his arm lazily draped over her waist, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on her bare hip. He looked utterly at ease—relaxed, content, and maybe just a little smug in that effortless way he had.

She turned her head toward him, studying him in the dim light. The mess of his hair, the slope of his nose, the way his lips still looked slightly swollen—it was all so effortless, so natural. He looked like someone who had absolutely no doubts. Meanwhile, she felt like she was buzzing with them.

Sebastian must have sensed her gaze because, after a moment, his hand stilled, and he cracked one eye open. “What’s that look for?” His voice was low, laced with curiosity and a hint of amusement.

She blinked, feigning innocence. “What look?”

His lips twitched. “The one you’re giving me right now.” He chuckled lightly, shifting slightly so that he could look at her more directly. “Like you're looking for something,” he replied, his fingers still tracing light patterns against her skin. “Or like you're expecting something.”

“Maybe some comments on what just happened,” she grinned, trying to sound as if she was joking, but she really wanted to hear what he thought about it.

Sebastian's expression softened, and he shifted so that he was propped up on one elbow, facing her. “Comments?” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of comments?” His fingers were still moving over her skin, gently tracing the curves of her waist and hips. “You want me to rate the experience on a scale of one to ten or something?” he teased, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

She chuckled slightly. “Perhaps.”

Sebastian's smirk widened slightly at her response, and he chuckled as well. “Well, in that case,” he said, his free hand coming up to trail lightly up her arm, “I'd give it a solid nine. Maybe even a nine-point-five.” He paused for a moment before adding, “But I do have one complaint.”

“What is it?” She asked, expecting the worst.

He leaned in closer as he replied, “I think you should have said my name louder.” He winked, a wicked grin plastered on his face. “I mean, I know I was pretty great, but I want everyone on the entire top floor to know it too.”

Her soft chuckle in response to his words made him smile. Yet, she still looked unconvinced—doubtful and worried, as if someone were whispering contradictions into her ear through a hidden earpiece.

Sebastian's expression turned slightly more serious, and he gently cupped her face in his hand, his thumb rubbing over her cheek. “Why do you seem so... uncertain about this?” he asked, his voice gentle. “It's like you're waiting for me to tell you that it wasn't good, or that you weren't good.”

“It's literally nothing, I was just wondering whether, um, you liked it,” she replied as lightly as possible, “since it is our first time.”

Sebastian paused, his hand stilling on her waist as he processed your words. He frowned slightly, tilting his head to get a better look at her face, hoping to glean some hint of your true feelings.

“Of course I liked it,” he said, his voice soft. “Why would you think I didn’t?”

“I don't know,” she said again with feigned casualness, “some couples just don't have bed chem” she explained, and despite the pretended nonchalance, it was clear that there was some sort of personal experience, insecurity, and vulnerability behind it.

Sebastian caught the not-so-subtle note of vulnerability, the hint of dread behind her words, and it broke his heart a little. He could tell there was more to this than just a casual, passing comment. And he knew her well enough to know that when she was hurt—really hurt—she tended to try and downplay it, brush it off like it was nothing.

He moved closer to her, his arm resting possessively over her waist. His next words were quiet, sincere. “Did… someone ever say that to you?”

“I said some couples, not that it had happened to me,” she replied softly, avoiding his gaze more than once.

He moved even closer, his body pressing against hers. His touch was light, his fingers tracing the outline of her jawline. “I know you’re lying,” he murmured, his voice filled with a soft mixture of concern and gentle reproach. “Don’t try to pull that with me.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe is based on a personal experience,” she admitted softly.

He let out a slow exhalation, his thumb stroking her cheek gently. He could see the vulnerability in her eyes, could feel the weight of those experiences hanging over her.

“You don’t have to hide it, you know,” he said softly. “I want you to be able to talk to me about things. Especially hard things.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, maybe I’m a little insecure about it because my ex said—and I’m quoting word for word—‘if the sex was half as good as the conversation, we’d soon be pushin’ strollers.’ But, yeah, then, it was over,” she admitted, trying to say it as lightly as possible, as if it didn’t affect her much.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

His hand slid to her cheek, tilting her face toward him, his eyes scanning hers like he needed to confirm that she was really being serious.

“Well,” he said, voice firm but teasing, “either your ex had absolutely no idea what he was doing, or he was just trying to make himself feel better.”

She huffed a small laugh. “Seb—”

“No, really,” he insisted, shaking his head, his lips curving into a slow, incredulous grin. “Because if that was you being bad at it, then I’m terrified of what happens when you decide to be good at it.”

She laughed slightly then, genuinely, and his grip on her tightened as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “You were incredible,” he murmured, his lips moving down to her jaw, then her neck. “And if you ever need more proof…” He smirked against her skin. “I’d be happy to demonstrate again.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: This is very random lol

English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <3

[holyguardian]

Aerith perked up at his question. Somnus was used to a whole different world, but it felt like he was open to learning and trying. "Well, the one thing I can say about Lucis at this time of year, if you wake up feeling cozy there's a good chance your entire day will feel the same. But in the farmlands it's more like... cold, a day that warms up, then afternoons that lose all that warmth way too suddenly. So, we wear riding coats or cloaks a lot of the time, it's an extra layer to keep you protected from the elements especially when you're riding a fast chocobo."

Somehow she managed to cuddle in even closer when he returned her hug. It felt... good, just being able to express a simple affection. It wasn't the kind of stiff formality she originally thought of for an arranged marriage. It was a blossoming kind of feeling, something that was certainly like love, it just needed a little more time and care. Perhaps it was age-appropriate. They got to be a couple of young fools together.

"What good is an army if you don't take care of it?" Aerith countered with her own knowing smile. "If I can make this change even a little bit easier, then I shall." She had a feeling he would make the same efforts had their situations been reversed.

"Oh, that." she suddenly blinked. Right. That was... tomorrow. Goodness. "We will be travelling through, so it will be entire days on the move — and I do mean entire days, our caravans will rarely make a stop. When we arrive, you will address our assembled army alongside my father. He is seen as the head of our army since..."

Oh right. That too. Aerith exhaled a little breath, giving a small tilt of her head. "Pay close attention to my mother in the coming days. Watch where my father stands. Watch where the Queensguard stand, and how they interact, how ladies maids approach her, you will see a pattern. We are known as healers, but I need you to understand a secret. Not even a healer can mend every type of injury back to perfection." That touched on why she possessed the white materia before her time. "But... that aside. You're fighting for the same thing as my father. He's... probably going to have a hard head around you for a little while, but I promise you he has a golden heart. You will have the full support of our armies. Which is probably why, in the coming days of travel, you might be pulled aside to have some deeply serious conversations on the road."

It felt like he had a lot to learn and especially experience by himself. Aerith was happy to be his guide - though he did not want to overstretch her patience. He should not.

“… what is a riding coat?”, he asked, feeling a little foolish at this question, because that word sounded like it was known by every child in the farmlands. And especially for someone like him, who loved going for a ride… this should be essential.

With how she suddenly embraced him so sweetly and gave an even sweeter promise, Somnus could feel a bit of warmth shooting up to his ears again. Was she teasing him with that or being honest? Taking care of him… that sounded like it belonged into his childhood. So far he had been expected to do all by himself - and he had thought he would just continue with that. And yet she seemed to want to guide him there… make him things, see to his comfort. That was… unusual. Unusual, but part of Somnus perched up at this thought. It felt like he was… appreciated in a very comforting way.

Giving a small smirk, his own arms found their way around her, so she could not escape this embrace so easily anymore.

“Is that so? You make me sound like a weak little seedling that you have to bring through winter.”

Well, maybe it would be like that. Somnus had been to colder areas already, up in the mountains, where snow covered the ground. That had been… strange. And unpleasant.

“… is there anything I should know about our travels? And the day we arrive? What do your people expect from us? Me? Should I be heard or only seen? Does your army expect me to take over leadership or is there someone I listen to? And then there is your secret undercover army of iron islanders… would they even just accept all this?”

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Hello, good morning/afternoon/evening/night. I'm the anon that requested for the platonic!dad Lilia vanrouge headcanon. I've finished reading it and I would love to request for the biological one! The adopted headcanon was amazing. And I also apologize for for not putting in my request with more thought 😅.

Thanks for the ask! I can totally do that! And don't worry about it, I was hoping to get to write both anyway <3

(I don't know if I'm thinking too far into it, but I wasn't sure if you wanted pre NRC or present, so I'm going with the same as last time)

!Platonic!Dad! Lilia Vanrouge x Biological Daughter

(Kinda a second part to This in a way)

However it came to be; a one night stand, a past lover, or some freak magic accident, you were Lilia's one and only blood relative left. His darling daughter.

Don't get me wrong, Lilia loved Silver and Malleus more than anything, but it felt different looking at you and being able to sense his fae blood running through your veins.

When you were left to the single father's care it was after he had already dealt with a newborn dragon. He believe that as you were his own flesh and blood you'd surely be easier to care for, but oh how wrong he was.

If anything, you were MORE difficult to deal with because you were his own flesh and blood.

Lilia finally got a taste of his own medicine when you started imitating his pranks (how did you even get in such a high cabinet).

At least he understands your magic and can help you figure out how to control it.

He treats you virtually the same as if you were his adopted child, just with the fact that you have his magic in mind- . . .he looked away for one second, where'd you go?

One time, Lilia left you and Silver with a pre-teen Malleus for him babysit as he had something to attend to. Silver spent the whole time sleeping whilst you spent the whole time making malleus play games with you (he didn't mind, he was just happy to have a friend). Lillia came back to see you and Malleus reenacting the war with wooden animals Baur had carved for you (maybe he told you too many stories of his glory days).

Lilia still loves doing your hair- what's that? You want to do his hair?

The other generals keep their mouths shut, but their eyes are glued to the great Lilia Vanrouge and his messy, lopsided pigtails with bright pink and blue bows on each for the entire briefing.

You escaped the cottage once when he looked away to try and get Silver to eat his food, and he had no clue where you were for almost a day. He was freaking out and about to take his magearm and go on an all-out rampage when he got a letter from the queen saying you had 'made a delightfully unexpected visit to the castle for a playdate with Malleus.'

Lilia rushed over to the castle immediately, ready to scold you, but when he got there he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, he fell to his knees crying as he watched you and Malleus sleep softly: cuddled up to each other. The queen found him in this state and simply patted him on the back before recounting how he and her daughter had once pulled a very similar stunt back in their youth. (he has her recount any and all stories of him causing trouble as a child in order to hopefully have a leg up on any stunts you pull in the future)

Right when he thinks he knows how to handle anything you throw at him, you come home with an owl bear cub in toe asking tow. You recount the story of how you found it next to its unmoving mother, and he has no choice but to let you keep it.

When you tell him you want to name the owl bear 'Bear' he tries to argue with you that it's not a very good name, but you win. Bear it is.

Anytime you and Silver go out in the woods to play he sends Bear with you just in case.

Baur gets quite the shock when he comes to pick up his grandson from the cottage only to find him riding on the back of an owl bear as it chases you and silver (you were just playing tag).

He turns to the cottage to see what Lilia was planning to do about this only to see him casually. . .barbequing (if you can even call it that) in the garden and watching you all play. Baur ends up staying longer than expected, mostly to salvage whatever slop Lilia was making for his poor kids, but also to hear Lilia's explanation as to WHY IN THE GREAT SEVENS' NAMES THERE'S AN OWL BEAR PLAYING WITH THE KIDS.

The time finally comes for Lilia to head off to NRC with Malleus, Silver, and Sebek, but this time let's say (for the sake of being different that the other fic) that you somehow end up there as well. Lilia would have liked you to be in Diasomnia with him, but you instead end up going to Ramshackle with the prefect. This is an all-boys school after all, so the best place for you to be on campus is probably in the dorm with the only other female student. (That and Bear came with you and Ramshackle already has Grim so. . .)

There's no telling what trouble you'll get to in your time staying at NRC, but rest assured that Lilia will be there to help you out (whether that means getting you out of trouble or helping you cause more).

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[thanosscross]

Found - Dad! Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P & Idol! Teen! Reader

Summary: Growing up you always had one best friend, your mom, especially after your dad had left you before you were born. So what happens whenever a new career path ends your life-long search for your Appa?

Warnings: None that I can really think of, but if I miss one please let me know lovelies!

Translations:

Ttal-a : Daughter. An informal way for a parent to address their daughter.

You grew up being your mom's best friend, after your father had left her before you were born, it only left the two of you to take care of each other. You were an amazing daughter in your mother's eyes, always doing more than what was asked of you, even if it meant giving up something you wanted or needed.

Even through all of it, you were still weighed down by a question you had for so long, you couldn't remember a time where you didn't have it. It was basically what formed you into the determined person you are today, Who was the man who helped make you? What did he contribute in making you? Did you have his eyes? Or maybe the facial structure you had never been able to match to any of your other relatives on your mother's side. You had so many questions, that you'd always be grounded for asking, so you devoted your free time in trying to find that man, determined to find out everything about your father's family, I mean, they were your family too, right?

Your search would become severely delayed whenever you confidently signed on to an Agency to become a new idol, hoping that it'd come out at least a little successful. It wasn't a secret you came from a rougher side of the city, a small home, with broken floorboards, barely livable, but you did what you could to make it safe for your mother, especially with her worsening health. You'd spend days at a time, training at the agency, if you weren't in training, you were recording and rehearsing for your debut album, and if you weren't doing that? You'd be in meetings with different staff members, if not that? You were doing whatever you could for your mom.

As you'd start to grow in fame, your fans would take notice to certain similarities between you and another Idol, you'd be honored by their theories, with your style of music really ranging, it mainly had one common variant in each song, your ability to rap, being able to rap over 10.13 Syllables per second. The way they'd constantly swear T.O.P from BigBang was a long lost brother, or father, would always charm you, you'd look up to the rapper, especially with him basically setting the bar for any and all K-pop rappers, it was an extreme compliment for you to be compared to him.

You'd never meet T.O.P until your manager would pull him into your first stage rehearsal, it'd be three weeks before you first show, so everybody on your team was stressed, especially whenever you and your chorographer couldn't figure out what you'd do while rapping one of your verses. With rapping, it took a lot of air out of you, especially trying to keep your pitch and keep up with the backtracks, so you couldn't move much, if you'd jump around, run, or dance, you'd surely run out of air before the verse ended, but you also couldn't just stand there. "Y/n! Our little Aein! This is T.O.P, I'm sure you know of him, he's going to help your little problem" YG would cheer, introducing you both before disappearing again into the hall, most likely going to check on other idols and trainees. "Hello, you can just call me Seung Hyun, it's a pleasure to meet you, I've heard you in the studio before, you're rapping is crazy" He smiled, laughing a bit as you both bowed in sync with each other "Nice to meet you! I'm y/n, but you know that" You smiled softly before backing up slightly as your choreographer took over the conversation, as you watched the two converse, you couldn't brush off the feeling of familiarity towards the man, but you couldn't quite place it.

You'd end up spending almost three more hours working on the rest of your choreography, finally calling it quits whenever Seung Hyun spotted you asleep against the wall. He was impressed, for such a young teenager, you were determined to make waves in the industry, yes you were only 17, but you were ready, your kindness and professionalism winning over YG and the others, almost immediately.

You'd barely remember getting home, as you woke up in your own bed, glancing around before you made your way out to the kitchen hearing your mother talking with somebody over the phone. As she finished her phone call, you tiredly sat at the counter, resting your head on your hands as you yawned. "That was your manager, he said you're doing well with your fans" She smiled towards you, handing over a plate of breakfast as she sat next to you "I know! They're so amazing, and they keep coming up with these awesome theories about who my dad might be" You smiled, not noticing her disgusted look, you never understood why she wouldn't ever talk about your father, other than to bash him, and to remind you that he left you, and she stayed. "Some people think it's rapper, T.o.p?" You added on, smiling softly as she looked at you confused "Who would ever name their child, T.o.p?" She asked, her tone dripping in annoyance and disgust "Well, that's his stage name, his real name is Choi Seung Hyun" You replied, jumping slightly as her hand slammed against the counter "That name will not be spoken in my home!" She screamed, you quickly stood up, going to apologize, only to have interrupted by her pointing to the door aggressively. Getting her message, you walked out of the front door, confused, standing there for a moment before pulling out your phone.

You weren't sure who to call, it was still pretty early, but you needed a ride to YG's agency building, walking that far would be damn near impossible to do, especially with you needing to be there, in about 32 minutes. As you held your phone to your ear, you sat on the curb anxiously picking at your socks, only now realizing, you were still in nightclothes and no shoes, but if your Umma wanted you out, who were you to argue? It'd be disrespectful as a daughter if you did. "Hello?" You heard a deep sleepy voice call through the phone, you were hesitant to speak at first, only whenever you realized he might fall back asleep, you spoke "Hey..Um..It's Y/n, are you free?" You asked nervously, hearing the older male sigh, you started to regret calling him, why not call YG? He might've been able to help. "Y-Yea yea, what's..what's going on?" Seung Hyun tiredly asked as he rolled out of the bed, running a hand over his face as he tried to wake himself up more "So...I think my mom might hate you.." You whispered, leaning your head down to rest on your knees "I brought you up..and she kicked me out..I don't know how long for- and! I'm not asking for a place to stay, I-I just..need a ride" You rambled, your anxiety starting to build whenever you heard nothing in reply, it took a moment for Seung Hyun to wrack his brain; maybe that's why your last name sounded so familiar. "Who's your mom?" He asked as he started to get dressed, not planning on leaving you to walk to the agency building. "Y/m/n l/n" You replied, pulling your nightshirt tighter around you as the morning rush started to pick up more, you could hear Seung Hyun's small huff through the phone "I'll be there in about...ten?" He replied, not really replying to your answer before the phone call was cut off. Why were both him and your mom acting so strange? Did they have something going on together?...was he..?

It would be six weeks of you both getting to know each other and picking up on each other's similar habits between you both, there was just something so familiar about each other, but neither of you could place it. Seung Hyun felt a connection towards you, always wanting to make sure you were on the right track, you had everything you needed, and you were protected; You felt almost the same, you just felt calm and safe whenever you were with Seung Hyun, it wasn't that you didn't normally feel safe, but you knew if you needed anything, even if it was a pretty rough situation, you could always call him for help. Your new friendship only fueled fan rumors that Seung Hyun was your father even more, especially with how you interacted during the family concerts, your manager would hold after your debut.

After a while though, Seung Hyun took notice to the fact, you'd never really do what you wanted, he never saw you doing any hobbies, or anything really other than work and favors for others. So, one night he'd find you in the recording studio, sitting at the table as you scrolled on your laptop, groaning loudly whenever you hit another dead end. You were getting so close to giving up, starting to believe maybe your dad just wasn't there out, or at least, wanted nothing to do with you. "Hey...What's going on? Need help?" He offered quickly, taking in your pissed off state, you reminded him of your mother, he'd still be oblivious to the fact he was the person you were looking for, instead, only knowing himself as one of your mother's exes. "No, No. I'm um- working" You rambled, scrambling to close your laptop, turning your attention towards him as you sighed "Working, yes, I am also working then- stop lying and tell me what's up" He replied sarcastically before his tone turned serious as he sat down next to you. "Fine, but you can't..tell anybody" You huffed, opening your computer back up to show him everything you had found out so far from your grandmother and aunt about your dad "I just..want to find him, and I know it probably sounds weird and creepy, but I just-" Seung Hyun cut your rambling off by coughing slightly "It's not either of those things, you're just a kid who misses a parent" He replied, scooting closer to read over what was presented on the screen. Seung Hyun had to hide his nervousness as he read further down the list, as he got to the end, he started to do the math in his head, feeling his heart drop slightly whenever he started to get a feeling maybe your mother wasn't entirely truthful about their break-up.

Seung Hyun did his best to stay calm for the rest of the night, not wanting to give you any false hopes, especially with the way you were speaking of your hopes of one day finding him. The next morning though? He was already out of his home as soon as the sun came up, making his way towards your old residence, you now happily living in one of the dorms at the agency building. Whenever your mother ended things with him, she had told this elaborate story about how she was too old to chase around a K-pop idol, being almost five years younger than her, he believed it, not really thinking much of it. As he knocked on your mother's front door though, he started to heavily question her story, which caused frustration to start growing inside of his body. "Hell- No! Get out of here!" Your mother shouted loudly, glaring daggers at Seung Hyun as she huffed, not wanting to accept the fact her almost 18-year-old lie was finally busted. "Y/m/n. We need to speak about Y/n" He demanded, ignoring your mother's protests as he entered the familiar home, it had severely fallen apart since he had been here last, but everything was still in its original place. "Y/n is my daughter. only mine! You have no right coming into my home! You- You disrespectful-" Seung Hyun was quick to cut your mother off with a harsh glare and a scoff "I don't care if I'm disrespecting you! Unless you were unfaithful while we were together- you know as much as I do, That poor kid has grown up without a dad, because of you" He snapped, standing in his spot next to the door as your mother stepped closer, poking his chest as she stood on her tip toes to get in his face "No! Because you weren't capable of being a father! It's your fault! You were young and immature!" She shouted back, hatred dripping from her tone as Seung Hyun took a step back, laughing sarcastically "How could you possibly know, if you never let me know you were having my kid!" He shouted back, freezing whenever he heard the door next to him open "U-Umma?" You whispered, standing in shock as you stared at the both of them, was he serious? You could tell by their shocked and scared facial expressions; you had finally found out the truth. "Y/n.." Seung Hyun started before you took off back out of the door, needing a moment to wrap your head around the information overload you had just received. "Just let her go, she needs time" Your mother huffed, glaring towards your dad one final time "Get. the fuck. out" She snapped, glaring at her in return, Seung Hyun quickly rushed out, calling your name as he tried to spot what way you went.

You'd be walking down the street whenever Seung Hyun would find you, again, your face bright red from the cold wind, and your cheeks stained with tears. Why was your mom acting so hateful lately? Why did they both hide who your father was? Did Seung Hyun know the entire time? What was Seung Hyun saying about not knowing? You were pulled out of your thoughts by a car door shutting, and quick footsteps behind you. "Y/n! Y/n! Would you just stop for a moment!" Seung Hyun demanded, you quickly halted in your spot, slowly turning around to face him "I-I really don't want to talk to you or my mom right now, I'm sorry" You replied softly, feeling bad for saying it, but you just continued on your trail, only stopping whenever your father grabbed your wrist gently "At least get in the car, and get a ride to, I assume, work" Seung Hyun pleaded, he felt terrible for what you were going through, absolutely terrible, but he was also in a whirlwind himself, he was a dad? He had been a dad for the last 17 years? Does that make him a bad one, for not being there?

You'd sit in silence the entire ride, only speaking again whenever Ji-Yong slowly made his way into your recording studio, a place you found yourself being in a lot. "Hey..kiddo" He whispered awkwardly, not really knowing how to start the conversation, you just sighed, turning in your chair to face him. "Seung Hyun told you?" You asked, pulling your knees to your chest as you watched him take a seat on the sofa in front of you. "He told me his feelings. How he feels terrible, that he wasn't there for you, but I don't think it's his fault" Ji-Yong stated, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he waited for a response. "I don't..know..How can you just not know you have a whole child?" You asked, you still weren't sure how to process your situation, you just felt hurt and confused at the moment. Ji-Yong nodded at your words, taking a moment before leaning back against the sofa "I know it's hard to hear, but he really had no idea, kiddo. I know my hyung, we've been best friends for..well forever, and I know if he did know about having a daughter, he would've done everything for you." He explained, getting choked up by his own words as he remembered how hurt and upset Seung Hyun looked whenever he busted into their shared dorm. "I just don't understand why my mom hid it from me, and even then..who says he wants to be my dad? I'm almost an adult now, a-and I mean, I'm not exactly the best crayon in the box, so why would he?" You rambled, hugging your knees tighter around you, as you felt tears building in your eyes; You had always imagined how it would be, if you finally met your father, but now you were just scared. What if he didn't want or like you as a daughter? What if all of those interactions between you both were just pity? Or something he had to do for work?

"Y/n. I couldn't tell you why your mother hid that from you, I'm sorry..but I can't, kiddo..What I can tell you, is that you are amazing, you're not even an adult yet and how many times have your songs been on the top five? But I think the rest of this conversation, should be with you and your father, I can only tell you so much about how he truly feels, he can tell you better than I can" He whispered, nodding towards the door, you took a deep breath before standing up "I-Is he mad at me?..for not talking to him?" You whispered, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands nervously, Ji-Yong just shook his head smiling, noticing how much you reminded him of your father.

You slowly entered the BigBang dorm, and into the bedroom, your eyes quickly meeting your father's as you froze, taking in how utterly broken he looked. His hair was a mess, eyes bloodshot from tears, along with his cheeks being tear-stained. "I-I'm so sorry" He started, you just quietly walked over, hugging him tightly, trying your best to hold back your tears as you felt him sob against your shoulder. "I don't blame you..and I'm not that mad at you..but I know you figured it out the other night" You whispered, trying your best to get him to stop crying, you hated it, you hated anybody crying, your biggest goal in life was trying to make others smile, so crying was the exact opposite of what you wanted. "You didn't have a father" He whispered, hugging you tightly, still in disbelief that he had a daughter, an almost adult daughter at that. "I was a pretty good Oppa to myself" You joked, trying yet again to get him to laugh, only proving slightly successful as he stopped crying, not wanting to pull away from the hug yet. "You shouldn't have had to be a father to yourself, or take care of yourself and your mom, I-I should've been there" He whispered, pulling away from your hug for a moment to have you sit next to him at the end of the bed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders gently as he hugged you again "You hug a lot, you know that right?" You laughed, trying to lean away from him, only for him to pull you right back into a hug "I have to make up for seventeen years of hugs, and 'I'm proud of you'- Oh my god! Am I proud of you? So much! I have one of the biggest Idols as my kid! I'm going to brag about that to everybody!" He rambled, causing you to smile softly, your mom had hated the fact you were an Idol, yes, she loved the benefits that came with being an Idol, but she hated everything else about it, so hearing someone close to you was proud, made you want to cry now.

You both sat for what felt like hours, just talking about everything he had missed in your early years of childhood. Eventually you both ended up at his home, him insisting you ate a real dinner, instead of the same cheap pack of noodles every night. As you sat at the kitchen island, you watched as he started plating the food "Do you know why...Umma hid who you were? Why'd you leave? Was it me?" You whispered, tilting your head slightly, wanting to know exactly what the two of them were arguing about, whenever you had walked into your mom's house. "Your mom had her reasons..they weren't very fair reasons...but she had them, As for leaving, I did, but I didn't at the same time, your mom ended things, telling me it was about my career, turns out, it was because she didn't want to share such an amazing kid with any other parents" He explained, not wanting to bash your mother, especially not to you, while he despised your mother for what she had done, he wasn't going as low as talking badly about her to her daughter. "You don't have to lie..I heard you guys through the door, partially" You protested, watching him drop his head in shame with a sigh "She didn't think I was capable of raising a kid" He whispered, hating that he was even talking about the topic with you, frustrated you just shook your head, smacking your hands down on the table "That's so stupid! I wasn't even born yet! How would she know!?" You shouted, standing up as you started to pace the kitchen floor, running a hand through your hair before Seung Hyun stopped you by grabbing your hoodie sleeve gently, pulling you back over to the counter "I agree, I agree, but it's time to eat, so get to the table" He laughed, motioning you away as he followed behind with two plates, and his glass of wine.

After dinner, you were laid sprawled out on the living room floor, Seung Hyun sitting a few feet away on his couch "Please don't die in my floor" He laughed after a moment, watching as you turned your head to look at him "I will die wherever I please, but I might just sleep here" You huffed, moving to slowly climb onto the couch, the meal Seung Hyun had made was absolutely amazing, one of the bests you've ever had. "I don't care if you sleep here, I've got a sofa, or a guest bed, or you can take my room, and I'll take the guest bed" He offered, pointing to each door as he spoke, you just laughed shaking your head "I'll take the guest room, it's your house, and you're like..an old man" You joked, laughing softly as he gave you an offended look, standing up to make your way to the guest room, feeling like you'd fall asleep any moment, you stopped to look back at Seung Hyun. "If it means anything...I think you would've been an awesome Appa..I think you're already an awesome Appa" You whispered before offering him a soft smile, your dad had to hold back tears as he smiled at you softly "It means the world, I think you're an awesome Ttal-a, Y/n" He replied, his voice cracking as he resting a hand over his eyes for a moment, trying his best to hide his tears. "I know" You giggled before shutting the door behind you, moving to lay down on the most comfortable bed, you had ever touched.

As you fell asleep, you contemplated how you were going to talk to your Umma again after this, or even what you'd say. You didn't let yourself think too hard though, falling asleep rather quickly as you heard your father's muffled voice from the living room, most likely on the phone with someone. As you fell asleep, you noticed something you hadn't ever felt before, when falling asleep, you felt comfortable, with no worries, knowing the only thing you had to deal with tomorrow was work. Your life-long search was finally over, yes it hadn't happened how your younger self always pictured, but you wouldn't change it, and you definitely wouldn't change who your Appa was, because for once in your life, you were happy with the answers you had gotten.

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What do we think lovelies? I am SO SO SO Sorry this took so long to post :( My week has been the craziest I've had yet, plus I had my younger brother over for majority of the week, but behold! My newest fic, with more to come!! My likely my next story will 100% be a wedding fic 0.0 so make sure to keep an eye out for me lovely ;)

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[kamisobsessed]

I Don't Get Jealous

Summary: Takes place in S4E6 "Poetic Justice" when Tim takes Officer McGrady out on patrol, he meets McGrady's daughter Ashley who invites Tim over for dinner to thank him for taking her dad back out on the streets. Tim eventually agrees to go, but runs it by you first. Then after they find the treasure, the station celebrates Jerry's retirement. Tim does Jerry's end of watch and Ashley thanks Tim again. You are standing nearby talking with Harper and Chen, but you see Ashley flirting with Tim and you don't hesitate to stop it. (I am so bad at summaries)

Some other background info: You and Tim are engaged, you're a metro sergeant/metro liason at mid-wilshire, he's an LAPD sergeant at mid-wilshire. Ashley is obviously clueless to your relationship, you don't really show your relationship at work.

Pairings: Tim Bradford x Metro Sergeant!Reader, no use of y/n.

Warnings: jealousy, fluff, kind of implied possible smut at the end?, follows the plot of S4E6

A/N: My first Tim Bradford fic! Also, I hate Ashley and hated her and Tim's relationship so I had to go with this prompt from @reignsboy19, "Y/n being a badass and shutting down Ashley who was trying to flirt with Tim (her boyfriend) and Tim just being proud of her and everyone else just laughing at her jealousy" though I changed it up a little. Hope you enjoy!

[This is not proofread or edited, I'm too busy for that, I just wanted to post this]

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When Sergeant Grey told Sergeant Bradford to talk Officer Jerry McGrady into retirement, Tim thought it would be easy. Until he had to actually talk to McGrady about it. Instead of discussing retirement, Tim asked him to go on patrol with him.

You always made sure to see Tim before he goes out on patrol, so you were waiting by the doors to his shop when you saw McGrady coming over with war bags and gear.

"Officer McGrady, no kit room duty today?" you ask him.

"Nope, Sergeant Bradford asked me to ride with him today," he says.

You raised your eyebrows and held back a chuckle, "oh really?" you say.

"Yep! It's truly an honor! I'm glad to be able to hit the streets again," he says.

"Well, you be safe out there Jerry," you say with a smile.

"Will do!" He says, and he went into the garage to set up the shop.

Tim came over after talking to Grey.

"I thought Grey told you to talk him into retirement?" You ask him, raising an eyebrow at him with a smirk.

"I told Grey I got this, he'll be thinking of nothing but retirement after today," he says.

"Right," you chuckle, knowing Tim just couldn't bring himself to rip the bandaid off.

He just grinned a little shaking his head, "Don't you have some metro op to do or something?" he asked.

"Nope," you smile. He just playfully rolls his eyes and opens the door to the garage.

"Be safe out there sarge," you say to him.

"You too, sarge," he says with a small smile looking back at you before the door closes.

-

You were in your office at the station when Tim knocks and walks in.

"Hey, how was riding with Jerry, he retire yet?" You ask him.

"Not yet, turns out he may be of some help on the treasure hunt case," Tim said, "But, once that is over, I'm sure he will retire," He says.

"Right, I'm sure," You respond sarcastically.

"Are you judging my ability to make someone leave the job?" Tim asked, "Should I remind you when I was your T.O., you almost washed out on day 2," he says.

"That's not the same, I was a rookie, I wasn't on the job for multiple decades like Jerry," you say.

"After this treasure hunt thing, I know Jerry will be ready to retire," he says.

"Okay, I believe you," you chuckled, "Now what has you in my office Sergeant Bradford?" You ask him, "Not that I don't like seeing my favorite person," you smile.

"Jerry and his daughter, Ashley, invited me over to have dinner, a thank you for me getting Jerry back on the streets. I said yes, just wanted to let you know," he says.

"I'm sure Jerry will like that," you say, "I'm gonna be late getting home anyways, have so many reports to catch up on, this treasure hunt has the city going mad," you sigh.

"Well, I'll see you at home later then," he says coming over to you and leaning down to give you a kiss.

"okay," you say giving him another quick peck on the lips.

"I love you," he says before he goes to leave your office.

"I love you, too," you say back before he heads out.

-

Tim was at dinner with Jerry and his daughter. Jerry was sound asleep on his recliner and Tim was helping Ashley clean up.

"You know, riding with you today was the highlight of dad's year," Ashley says, "Hell, his last 5 years."

"Yeah, I don't get it. Most cops who stay on the job this long, they don't have anything else waiting for them, but I'm sure you'd love to be able to spend more time with him," Tim says.

"Mm, because I've got nothing going on in my own life?" Ashley snaps back, jokingly.

"No, no. That's- that's not what I meant," Tim says defensively with a chuckle.

Ashley laughs, "Relax. It's a joke," she says. She lets out a sigh "No one ever gets my jokes," she says.

"I guess I'm just used to jokes being funny," Tim jokes back, "I guess that's why I got confused," He says and they both laugh as she throws a towel at him playfully.

Ashley sighs, "Honestly, I think my dad regrets not retiring 15 years ago when he was still on the street," she says looking over at her dad, "Like all his buddies did."

Tim understood and he looked over at Jerry who was softly snoring in the chair.

-

The treasure hunt case was finally closed. Jerry McGrady was officially retiring.

Tim had called Ashley to come to the station for when he and Jerry got back. Then he had Harper gather everyone at the station.

"Alright folks, attention please," Harper announced, "Turn your hand packs to the district channel," she says.

Lucy goes over to Ashley and Jerry, "I need to borrow your dad for a second," she tells Ashley and Ashley nods.

You stand next to Nyla as the station gathered around looking at Tim who was standing on the platform of the staircase.

"Control, 7-Adam-100," Tim spoke into his radio, his voice echoing out of everyone's radio pack in the station, "I am privileged to announce the retirement of Officer Jerry McGrady, badge number 9944. After 43 years and 9 months of service, this concludes his final shift," he continues, "Officer McGrady, you, sir, are End of Watch," Tim says, "Congratulations!"

Everyone cheers and applauds for him. Jerry just looks around, letting out an emotional sigh.

"It's been an honor serving this great city all these years," Jerry says, "so, take care if her now that I'm gone."

Everyone cheers and applauds for him once more.

People go up to Jerry to give him hugs and congratulations.

You went over to him and gave him a hug, "Congratulations, Jerry, we'll miss you around here," you say.

"Thank you, sergeant, I'll miss you all, too," he says.

You stand there with Nyla and Lucy as they talk, but you don't listen as you watch Ashley go up to where Tim is on the platform of the stairs.

"That was really beautiful," She says to him, "Dad won't forget it, and...neither will I," she smiles at him.

"It was my honor, your dad is a hell of a guy," Tim says.

"Maybe you could...stop by the house sometime, see how he's handling retirement," Ashley says.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Tim says.

Nyla and Lucy both see you looking at Tim and Ashley.

"Oh, someone's getting jealous," Nyla says.

"I don't get jealous," you said, "I'll just...be right back," you say and you walk away toward the stairs.

"She's definitely jealous," Nyla says.

"I think it's cute, she and Tim never show any affection at the station, they're both so professional," Lucy says.

"Maybe, you and I could grab dinner sometime?" Ashley asks Tim.

"Oh, I- um..." Tim says flustered, but you come up behind him.

"Ready to head home babe?" You ask Tim, you look at Ashley, "oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," you say.

"Uh Ashley, this is my girlfriend," Tim says introducing you "She's the metro liason sergeant."

"Oh, hi, it's nice to meet you," Ashley says, "I better go find dad, thank you again for everything, Tim," she says.

Tim nods, "it was my pleasure," he says.

She just nods and awkwardly smiles at me as she goes down the stairs.

Tim turns to you with a smile on his face.

"What?" You ask him with a chuckle.

"You're pretty cute when you're jealous," he says.

"I- no, I wasn't jealous, I just- she- she tried asking you out," You say, fumbling over your words.

"I was going to turn her down, you know," he says.

"I know you were, I was just-" you say but he cuts you off,

"Jealous?" He asks, smirking at you.

"Shut up," you say nudging him playfully and you both laughed.

"Let's clock out and head home and relax, yeah?" he says taking your hand.

"Yes, sir," you say with a grin as you walk with him down the stairs

"Watch it, or we'll do more than just relax," He says lowly so only you hear as he smirks at you.

"Is that a promise?" You say back.

"Hmm, maybe," he says with a wink.

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

A/N: My first Tim Bradford fic! Idk, I'm kinda proud of this. I took a LOT from the show obviously, but I saw that prompt and had to write it. So glad he and Ashley broke up...otherwise we wouldn't get Chenford. And I swear if Chenford doesn't get back together in season 7...Anyways, hope you enjoyed reading :)

Tags: @justwhisperingfantasies

[triple-barred]

some excerpts from the first couple chapters of no easy answers by brooks brown

(transcript in alt text)

transcript for fourth image:

People will ask me what I remember the most about grade school with Dylan Klebold. Sadly, my strongest memory is of both of us kneeling on the floor of the Normandy Elementary School bathroom, bawling our eyes out as we took turns scrubbing a little girl's muddy jacket with a toothbrush.

It all started during recess. We were outside, playing in the leftover snow from a few days before. As we ran around, I found a big patch ofice that was starting to melt but was still plenty solid enough to play with.

"Hey, Dylan!" I said. "Come here!" By the time Dylan arrived, I was already bouncing and sliding on the slushy patch. Dylan gamely joined in, our feet smashing little spiderwebs into the ice as it buckled under our weight.

Dylan's boot crashed down on a corner ofthe ice and made the whole patch shift. It tipped into a puddle underneath, which splashed a good amount of muddy water into the air. A girl in our class was standing nearby, wearing a brand-new coat her parents had just given her; the mud left a jagged brown stripe right down the front of it.

It was an accident. We hadn't thought the ice was going to do that. But our classmate took one look at her ruined coat and started screaming.

The second grade teacher immediately ran over to assess what was happening.

"It was an accident," I tried to say. " We were just playing with some ice, and—"

"Don't you have any respect for other people's property?" I remember the teacher yelling at us. " Don't you? You two are coming with me right now." Dylan and I knew we were in trouble, but at the same time, we didn't understand why the teacher was so angry. It wasn't as if we had thrown the mud at the girl, or stolen her coat and rolled it around on the ground. Maybe we'd been a little careless, but that's all. It was still an accident.

We tried to get the teacher to listen to us, but she ordered us to be quiet as she carried the girl's coat into the bathroom.

Both of us were bawling by the time she had us at the sink, wetting a toothbrush. She put the coat in Dylan's hands. "I want this cleaned!" she ordered. " You two will stay in here and scrub that mud off and you're not leaving until I say you're finished!" Choking back our tears, we took up the brush and started working. We quickly discovered that using a toothbrush on mud wasn't very efficient but we didn't have any choice. Both ofus continued to cry, our ears burning red from the embarrassment of being yelled at, of our teacher's spiteful glare, of people looking at us as we worked.

"It's not coming out!" Dylan kept saying, rubbing the same spot for what seemed like the 500th time.

"We have to get it," I remember saying in response. I just kept repeating that. "We have to get it."

Judy Brown happened to visit the school that day to drop off something for her son during lunch hour.

"I was in the hall, and I ran into the teacher and she was red-faced mad," Judy recalls. "And I said, 'What's going on?'She said, 'Your son and Dylan ruined this girl's coat. He is in the bathroom right now, trying to clean it.'I asked when this had happened, and she said it had been over an hour before. She went and got Brooks to have him talk to me, and when he came out, he was in tears.

"So I took her aside, and I said, 'You know what, you're going a little too far with this,"" Judy continued. "I talked to Brooks and he said that he wanted to stay in school, that everything was okay: Well, I went to pick him up after school, and guess what? She had made them stay in there for the whole day, and now she was keeping them after school as well. She wasn't going to let it drop. This teacher was out of control, and it was over mud."

To this day, Judy is angry about the treatment of her son and his classmates in second grade, and not just because of the bathroom incident. "She expected these kids to be perfect," she says today. "And kids aren't perfect. But she would have none of it. She absolutely terrorized my child."

Scrubbing a coat in the bathroom may not have been such a bad thing by itself, but it was kind ofthe icing on the cake. Second grade had, from the beginning, been completely difierent from first grade. For Dylan and me, it was the first time in our young lives that we felt like an adult hated us.

[nikethestatue]

I blame TikTok/BookTok for a lot of things, but one for the biggest disservices that it did to the general reading public was it popularized the idea of 'trope writing'. it's one of the worst things to ever happen in writing, and it's the low hanging fruit for those who have bastardized the whole romance genre. Grumpy and sunshine, age gap, single dad, enemies to lovers...The list is long and...boring.

Trope writing gives a blueprint to unimaginative stories and their proliferation in the romantasy and romance genre is what's making it a joke now. There are so many 'Court of' and any combo of the words of blood, roses', and stars and it's...well, it's this:

The problem with SJM's fandom and the shipwar as a whole is very kind of simple and sad at the same time.

A HUGE number of Gwynriels came from TikTok and learned about SJM on there, and they've been lied to this entire time. Because the thing is, SJM is NOT a trope writer. Sure, there are a few tropes in her books, but they don't drive her narrative. SJM is a STORYTELLER. That's what she is and those who found her before/outside of TikTok were drawn to the story and the characters, not ships.

We didn't read ACOTAR, and then ACOMAF for 'ships'. We read it for the story--we didn't know who'll end up with who and that wasn't the main reason why we read. We loved the actual world of Feyre and Rhys, of Tamlin of Prythian, of the IC and Hybern. It was interesting to read.

TikTok ushered in the 'trope revolution' where talentless and mediocre authors are churning out boring, unoriginal books that fit into these tropes.

SJM doesn't do that. And while I know it's way too late now, I wish Gwynriels understood that early on. I mean, they would've had to read the books actually, and not just look at IG and TikTok videos, but it would've saved them a lot of time and energy if they did. Because what they want is 'grumpy and sunshine' trope with Azriel and Gwyn. 'Friends to lovers'. 'Teacher and student'. That's why they've struggles SO HARD for 4 years to come up with an actual story for their 'Gwynriel book'. They vacillated between 'it's Azriel's book!' and 'it's about healing!' or 'they'll redeem Illyria', and then, when they couldn't really concoct much of anything, they decide to make Gwyn Starborn and they've been obsessing about her paternity.

The 'problem' with SJM is that she has a story FIRST, and then certain tropes fall into that story, but she doesn't start off with a trope and then build a story from there. Which is what GAs want and think she'll do. For Eluciens, the downfall is their belief that 'SJM is a fated mates writer'. They dug themselves into a hole, because 'fated mates' is a trope and it's pretty obvious that this is NOT where SJM is going with Elucien. They'd rather ignore every mention of the Cauldron being wrong, and falsely assume that none of it matters because well, but 'fated mates'!

What they all keep ignoring and dismissing is that Elain has a story of her own. Yes, there is a grumpy/sunshine vibe with Elriel, but that's not the driver of the narrative. The driver is that she is a Seer, and that she is Made, and that the Cauldron WAS WRONG, and that she doesn't like her mate but likes another guy altogether, and that Azriel is a mystery and a Shadowsinger, and we don't know what any of this means, and somehow, he is carrying a Made dagger and he gave it to Elain, and he is in love with her knowing that he shouldn't be, and he said 'i am getting her back' and he got her back....THAT'S the story that SJM is writing. And it's not your basic and boring 'grumpy and sunshine' trope.

I think when Elriels have doubts or see something on TikTok, they should remember this. SJM predates TikTok by over a decade and no matter how people try to spin it, she is NOT a TikTok writer. She is actually a talented and best-selling romantasy writer who wrote this:

“Fireheart. Fireheart, why do you cry?"

"Because I am lost. And I do not know the way." "You have been very brave. You have been very brave, for so very long. But you must be brave a little while longer, my Fireheart. You must be brave a little while longer, and remember..." Her mother placed a phantom hand over Aelins heart. "It is the strength of this that matters. No matter where you are, no matter how far, this will lead you home. It is the strength of this that matters, Aelin. The strength of this. You are my daughter. You were born of two mighty bloodlines. That strength flows through you. Lives in you. You do not yield. You do not yield.”

And she made us cry.

And then she wrote this:

“There you are. I've been looking for you.

His first words to me— not a lie at all, not a threat to keep those faeries away.

And she made us fall in love.

“Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will always love you.”

[thatgirlthatwritessmut]

weird rq but likeeee? oh well here we go ! so basically rafe and yn are dating but then she finds out about the sheriff peterkin thing from ju and when rafe comes home she is PACING. she and rafe have a conversation and she goes to call the police but then rafe doesn't want to go to jail and tries to say it's because JJ doesn't like him and she obviously doesn't believe it so he like thinks about killing her but then ends up locking her in the thingy majigy I forgot what it's called til she changes her mind

idea honestly came from this song so !

calm down.

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rafe cameron x female reader

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ~ your boyfriend rafe locks you in a room until you calm down after finding out about him killing sheriff peterkin.

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ~ dark!rafe, violence, toxic behaviors, unhealthy relationship, emotional outbursts, kisses, crying.

—————

your friends and lover never got along. there was always something coming up. your pogue friends would always tell you that you should break up with rafe but you simply wouldn’t. even though you were pretty sure he was a psychopath you couldn’t stop yourself from loving him.

rafe didn't make it easy though. he was short tempered and ill mannered. sometimes you wanted to smack him across the face for the words that spilled from it. at times you did let your feelings get the best of you and the shape of your handprint would take over the pale flesh of his cheek. he would soon grab a hold of you and the two of you would tussle around but it wouldn't be long till your lips crashed on his inhaling his toxicity.

you knew this relationship was bad for you but you were blinded by love and desire which made the recent information that you were given hard to swallow.

you're taking your family boat out enjoying the air from the sea before you get a text from your friend jj.

jj: y/n I need you to meet me at my place. we need to talk. now.

confusion corses through your body as you quickly reply back.

y/n: jj what's going on?

jj: just hurry and get here fast.

you immediately put your phone aside as you grab a hold of the steering wheel on the boat and head for the dock. once you arrive you tie it up. as you finish you dash towards your car, hitting the gas. its not long till you're on jj front porch knocking on the door filled with worry. jj quickly opens the door and pulls you in without a word. "jj...whats going on?!" you say breaking the silence. he stares at you calculating his words. "you won't believe me.". "how could you know that?" you say slightly annoyed. "because its involving your boy toy...". your body freezes suddenly becoming breathless. "r-....rafe?- what the fuck did he do now?". "something bad. something he's not going to come back from...well he might because he's blaming everything he did on john b.". "what?!...why the hell is he doing that?". jj goes silent again. 'WHAT THE FUCK DID HE DO JJ?!" you finally shout.

“HE SHOT SHERIFF PETERKIN!”

as you hear those words you step back not believing what's been said. "no....NO! that can't be true. he's done his fair share of fucked up things but he would never go as far as....as far as...murder.". 'oh yeah? that's funny because I saw him with my own eyes. me, kie, pope, john b, and even sarah. she'll tell you what he did and that's her own blood!".

you shake your head, tears beginning to blur your vision. you try to speak through your tightened throat. "whe-...when did this happen?". "recently....I wanted to let you know sooner but a LOT as been going on. I wasn't sure if you were at his place or not so i texted you as soon as i could. you're not safe around him y/n!". you stare at the wall choked up before making your way to the door.

"hey! where are you going?". jj quickly foots behind you not letting you out of his sight. as you walk outside you run to your car not looking back. "y/n don't do this! you hear me? don't!". you ignore jj's commands entering your car and slamming the door behind you. "I'm getting to the bottom of this! don't follow me!". with that said you put your car in reverse and make your way to the cameron house.

~~~~

you’re pacing at the front door as rafe arrives home. he glances at you surprised by your presence. as he locks the door he greets you. “hey baby. you didn’t tell me you were stopping by-”. “did you kill sheriff peterkin?”. he face stiffens as he looks up from the lock and stares at the door back facing you. silence takes over the house as your movements stop as well, eyes burning a hole into his neck. you repeat your question. “DID YOU KILL-”. “who told you that?” he snaps, turning around now stepping towards you with speed. “don’t worry about who. answer my damn question rafe!”. his jaw clenches as he stares at you then looks away trying to come up with a lie. “no. john b did.”. you immediately strike back. “liar….i know you’re not telling the truth i can see it in your face!”. you point your finger at him disgusted that he has put you in this position.

rafe begins to shake his head. “not here. not while wheezy and rose is at home okay? lets-”. “NO! no! you will not push me away rafe! why not tell the truth why not tell them that you KILLED SHERIFF PETE-”. rafe grabs you and takes his hand to your mouth silencing your words. “i really wish you wouldn’t do that.” he says, his strength besting you. “get off of me!” you say muffled as you push him away only being able to break free because he allowed you. the two of you stare at each other silently before you speak once again. “rafe…i’m going to ask you one last time. did. you. kill. sheriff. peterkin?”.

he narrows his eyes at you before shaking his head once again. you force a smile as you nod. “…okay…well i guess i’ll find out once the police hears about this won’t i?”. you make your way to the door and he blocks your path. “what does that mean?”. “oh you know what it means.”. his icey glare slightly scares you but you don’t let it show. you inch closer to him. “what now rafe?…are you going to shoot me too?”. you see the gears start to turn in his head, like he was actually considering the idea.

you try to push past him again but now you’re met with his hand to your neck. “r- rafe?” you stutter gripping his wrist. he starts backing you to a door glaring at you with every step. when your back hits the door you yell. “let me go!”. he doesn’t listen pulling you to the side by your neck as he opens the room and throws you inside of it. you fall to the ground wincing in pain. as you look back you watch him swiftly close the door. as you lay on the ground you start to hear a locking sound. you eyes widen and you panick. “no..NO! RAFE!”. you get up from the floor, pacing to the door and begin pounding it. “LET ME OUT!” you scream, beginning to kick. “i’m not letting you out, y/n. not until you calm down, okay?”. “screw you!” you shout through the door. “i’m trying to be civil here, and you’re freaking out right now.”. as your face turns with anger you suddenly hear a familiar voice coming down the stairs.

“rafe what the hell is going on? who is that?”. “r- rose?” you say thankful that she was here. “is- is that y/n?” rose says confused. “yeah.” rafe admits. “why is she locked in there?”. you immediately answer. “rafe locked me in!”. “she’s locked in there because sometimes you have to make the hard choice, right? she just didn’t get that.”. he then turns to the door so he can make sure you hear him. “you fail to understand that constantly, don’t you? huh? DONT YOU?”. he brings his fist up to punch the door. “shut the hell up!” you scream as you push your shoulder into the wood standing between you two hoping to break the lock. “you need to CALM DOWN!” he yells back at you. “what do you mean calm down?!” you reply. but then the other side of the door goes quiet. as a little time goes by you hear something again.

“y/n…what is it going to be?”. your pounding stops as you hear rafe’s voice again. “where is rose?”. “she went upstairs okay? i told her you’re fine which you are.”. “RAFE! stop it now! let me out!”. “i’ll only let you out once you promise me that you won’t go to the cops. so i’ll say it again...what is it going to be?”. you stop responding. soon rafe presses his ear to the door confused but quickly hears a glass shattering against the door. “LET ME OUT ASSHOLE!”. “okay. I’ll give you some time to come to your senses.”. as you hear his steps grow distant you punch harder. “let me out!” you insist. “i really wanna help you, but i need you to help me too okay?” rafe says as he walks up the stairs. you begin to repeat the word “no” over and over again not wanting to stay in the room another minute. “rafe? rafe?…please don’t leave!” you say softly as you give up on breaking the door. you slowly fall to the floor backing up into a corner bringing your knees to your chest. you cover your face as tears fill your eyes. you couldn’t believe what was happening.

after a while you hear the lock turning. you lift yourself from the floor watching as rafe opens the door. “y/n? have you calmed down?”. you nod your head repeatedly slowly walking towards him. as you walk out the door he grabs a hold of your waist. “i hope you can forgive me. i never want you to have to see me like that but you gave me no choice.” he says wiping your tears away with his thumb. your head nods as you sniffle. he then plants a kiss on your cheek then temple as he pull you into a hug. as he locks you into his warm embrace your mind fills with one thought.

should you protect your friends or your lover?

writers note ~ sorry if this feels rushed. lots have been going on in my life. i hope you still enjoyed !! :)

[thebearme]

This fic i wrote was made when my nose was in pain and is unfinished cause i hate writing i guess... anyway enjoy

Sensory Nose-aload

Dogman's noes has been by his side through thick and thin. Since the very beginning it will have help him sniff out where is Mother has gone if he couldn't see her, It would help find clues for a crime that takes more than Knight's fists and what Petey is cooking for dinner as of yesterday. But yet sometimes his nose would be the one needing help and Dogman would drop everything to make sure that his buddy is good, lending him to have sick days where his stuck in bed steaming his nose and putting vicks to get rid of that dastardly cold that assaults his nose and senses.

But scary enough it's not one of those days. It's something much worse, something that Dogman can't fight but has to sit and take the beating from.

When his nose is overloaded.

A feeling that's hard for Dogman to describe to anyone cause they just look at him weirdly. But I guess that's what happens when most of your friends are humans with human noses.

The day started out like anyother day, In bed between the covers. Dogman lays there for a moment to assist his surroundings, the gentle light shining through the curtains with the sound of a bird rustling in the tree, the soft distance beep of a fire detector on standby ...

Dogman never understood the point of the fire alarm eventho Petey INSISTED that it's for safety precaution and that "It will warn everyone in the house that there's a fire." Dogman guarantee that if it does detect a fire it would be LONG after he and frankly everyone already knew. After Dogman thinks of that ridiculous thought he started getting out of bed but not before having some weird spontaneous sneezes.

After the final sneeze, Dogman's nose started feeling suspicious painfully cold. Like If the inside of his nose took a bath and before drying took the biggest breath of the Arctic winds, making every noes hair and in extension every nerve ending feel like it's been pulled.

In response of these sudden pain of course Dogman grabbed his nose, hoping it was just him sneezing weirdly or something but as quickly as the excuse popped in, the truth came to knock it down.

His hands smelled

Not bad but just smells. He can smell the sweat glands on his palm, something he could always smell but only if he really focused too. But he didn't need to focus to smell here, it just came naturally... too naturally. Eventually recycling the same hot air was getting to his nose as well, It seemed to not be satisfied with hot or cool air. Dogman removed his hands from his nose and the cool air PUNCH him straight to the nose. Another assault to his nervous system, and he feels a headache coming on... Great.

In a attempt to preserve any chance of having his nose go back to normal he quickly looked around to the nearby nightstand and grabbed two tissues, sticking them up his nostrils.

That should stop that mean air from hurting my nose right?

Wrong.

Very very wrong.

After thinking that tissues would protect his nose they actually turned out to be the worst type of Trojan horse, causing more pain to his sensitive nerves but somehow the usual very dull smell of the soft tissue now is 1000 times the more potent with it once delightful smell now just smells like factory... Which is where it came from but HELL, it wasn't this strong.

In a pitiable operation towards some peace and stability Dogman went to hide under the covers till the pain is gone. He didn't need to go to work today anyway, so he could frankly hide here as long as he wanted! He a trys to restrain from that way of thinking because one off day can quickly become multiple. But this is definitely different, his nose and sanity is at stake!

Now hidden from the world is now miserable because It truly did nothing to stop the issue. He still smells the factory smell of the tissues, the smell of the dust floating around in the sun rays, the smell of bed sheets GOODNESS THE BED SHEETS! Let it be drool from nights and nights of butt tiredness, sweat from those tussles and beatdowns he would have to save the city and wouldn't take a shower afterwards or the musty smell of wet dog for went he would take a shower but not blowdry.

The smell is horrendous.

Why, why today his nose decisively turned on him? Did he not treat it well? Dogman takes his time to smell the flowers, smells the lovey food Petey would cook and even take bite of senseless candles... he didn't need to eat but that doesn't matter! All those wonderful times with his schnoz, so why must you kill him like this?

And with that moan of frustration and pain the headache stepped in saying 'hello honey, missed me?' and making itself homed in his doggy head. All because of that no good nose of his, Dogman can't even cope breathing through his mouth because EVERYTHING STILL MANAGES TO GET HIS NOSE!

His nose is so cold but also burning hot at the same time and at this rate Dogman is planning to cry out in some hope that someone puts him out of his misery but then Dogman smelled something that's not ENTIRELY dog water.

Bacon.

The smell of the gas stove releasing its hot air and the grease fatty seasoned, smoked, and sliced pork belly strips hitting the chipped over the years cast iron pan.

It must be Petey making breakfast.

The smell is getting stronger and stronger to the point he can almost ignore that other smells that pain him.

Almost.

[myloveobbsessed]

Ｓｅｃｒｅｔ

•••

Genre: fluff

Warnings: Pregnancy

Characters: Naruto Uzumaki x femreader

Notes: Naruto is hokage so this is more in the Boruto settings. You two are married.

•••

You have been pregnant for a while now and have been hiding it from your husband. Seeing as he is the hokage and is pretty busy it has been an easier task to do. Wearing baggy clothes to hide your growing bump.

And eating your weird combinations/cravings in private. To avoid being asked any questions. You know Naruto wouldn't react violently or anything if you told him but you thought that it just wasn't the time to be pregnant seeing as his homage duties keeps him away from home often. You wouldn't want to distract him. But you haven't been a secretive as you think.

You two relax on the couch Naruto having some free time. Your legs resting over his lap as he slurps up a cup of ramen noodles as he watches tv, while you read a book. After a few minutes of silence Narutos eyes trial over to your relaxed form he sets down his now empty cup of noodles on the coffee table and turns a bit to face you. Noticing his slight movements your eyes glance up from your book to him. At this moment the blonde parts his lips to let the words leave his mouth.

“Youve been gaining weight recently…”

Your breath catches in your throat, and your grip on the book tightens slightly. Of all the ways he could’ve brought this up, that was the route he chose? You glance at him, his expression one of curiosity rather than accusation, and it’s clear he doesn’t mean any harm. Still, your heart races.

“Gee, thanks Naruto” you deadpan, trying to keep your voice neutral as you turn a page in your book.

He blinks, tilting his head. “No, no! I didn’t mean it in a bad way, believe it!” He scratches his cheek, looking a little sheepish. “Its just I've noticed you've been wearing sweaters and stuff…its the middles of summer you know…and eating weird things”

You don't look at him opting to keep your eyes on your book. “What so I can't eat now? I don't think a man who eats five cups a ramen a day can question someone on their eating habits.”

Naruto pouts, crossing his arms. “Hey! Ramen is a perfectly balanced meal,” he argues, his tone defensive but lighthearted. “And that’s not what I meant!”

You finally glance up from your book, arching a brow. “Then what do you mean?”

He hesitates for a moment, his blue eyes scanning your face as if piecing something together. Then, without warning, he leans closer, squinting at you suspiciously.

“You know I've asked Sakura about your odd behavior” hearing his words starts to make you a little nervous and speak with a anxious tone. “So what.” “she told me to come and ask you so…whats going on?”

Your grip on your book tightens slightly as you force yourself to stay calm. “Nothing’s going on,” you reply a little too quickly, avoiding his gaze.

Naruto narrows his eyes. “Uh-huh. That’s what suspicious people say.” He shifts even closer, studying your expression carefully. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks—wearing baggy clothes, sneaking off to eat, avoiding questions… even Sakura thinks something’s up.”

You internally curse Sakura for her sharp intuition. Of course, she would pick up on your behavior.

Naruto suddenly gasps dramatically. “Wait! You’re not—cheating on me, are you?!”

Your eyes widen in horror. “WHAT?! Naruto, no!”

He laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “Okay, okay! Just making sure.” Then, before you can deflect again, he gently grabs your hands, his touch warm and grounding. “But really… what’s going on? You can tell me anything, you know that.”

His sincerity makes your chest tighten with guilt. You can’t keep hiding this from him. Taking a deep breath, you finally meet his eyes.

“…I’m pregnant.”

For a second, Naruto doesn’t react. He just stares at you, blinking. Then, his mouth opens slightly, as if his brain is catching up to your words. “You’re… pregnant?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

You nod hesitantly.

There’s another beat of silence. Then, his entire face lights up like a sunrise. “YOU’RE PREGNANT?!”

You barely have time to react before he practically tackles you into a hug, laughing loudly. “I’M GONNA BE A DAD! BELIEVE IT!” His excitement radiates off him in waves as he pulls back, his hands trembling slightly as they settle on your stomach. “Oh man… oh man! I can’t believe this! This is amazing!”

Seeing his pure, unfiltered joy makes your eyes sting with emotion. “You’re really happy?”

“Are you kidding?! This is the best thing ever!” He grins so wide it looks like it might split his face. Then, his expression softens, and he presses his forehead against yours. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You sigh, guilt creeping back in. “I… I didn’t know if it was the right time. You’re so busy with Hokage duties, and I didn’t want to stress you out.”

Naruto leans back, giving you the most serious look you’ve seen from him in a long time. “Babe… nothing is more important to me than you. And now… our baby.” His voice is gentle, yet firm. “I wish you told me sooner so we could’ve gone through this together.”

Your heart swells with love, and you squeeze his hands. “I’m sorry. I just… didn’t know how to bring it up.”

He smiles and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Well, now that I do know, I’m gonna be here every step of the way. No way am I missing out on being a dad.”

Naruto suddenly places both hands gently on your stomach, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, little guy—or girl—I’m your dad! And I’m gonna be the best one ever, believe it!”

You can’t help but laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. Maybe keeping it a secret wasn’t necessary after all.

•••

[meraki-yao]

Poppy Playtime Chapter 4 Thoughts (Spoilers!)

Who stayed up till 1:30 am trembling in her blanket and continued to do so the whole morning for the new Poppy Playtime Chapter? Me!

So here are my thoughts and a few theories before the freshness washes off

(also disclaimer, I didn't actually play the game because I am by no means a gamer and way too much of a scaredy-cat to actually play it, this is based on the play-throughs I watched)

Thoughts

Monsters/Bosses:

Yarnaby:

Big kitty. Seriously though I feel like he's kind of standard for a poppy mid-level boss.

Pianosaurus:

Now some say that he was wasted but honestly I don't think so? All things considered I don't think he was hyped up all that much: he had one distorted image in the ARG and one jingle with not much actual information on the bigger-body. So truthfully speaking, I think the twist of having him be so quickly and suddenly destroyed by Doey was really successful, I for sure did not see it coming at all.

Nightmare Critters:

Okay as someone who really grew to love the smiling critters, the nightmare critters' very concept confused me. Like I don't dislike it, I'm just confused, like what is the in-game reason for their existence? I really think they wanted to reuse the mini-smiling critters concept from chapter three, but since the smiling critters in Chapter 4 are children refugees in Safe Haven, to make a distinction they created the nightmare critters. Defintiely annoying little pests though, which means they're fulfilling their purpose quite well.

The Doctor:

I was wondering if they were gonna re-use the weeping angels mechanism from Miss Delight because when I watched the trailer I couldn't think of anything else, but turns out they're traffic light systems but reverse: yellow means the minion is going to move, and red means it is moving. The VA acting is absolutely on point, so all the applause to Baldwin, but game play wise I... honestly feel it's a little underwhelming? It's all very confusing and a lot of brute forcing, and truthfully speaking to have this villain that was built up for so long, second to the prototype get destroy fairly quickly, felt... too easy for such a horrendous character. I still don't understand with what intention is he and prototype collaborating. I also feel like the stuff in the ARG about Sawyer's backstory didn't really pay off?

Doey:

OH GODS I CRIED SO MUCH I COULD WRITE A WHOLE POST ABOUT DOEY ALONE. I knew he was gonna be a twist/final boss in someway just because of how he was marketed, but oh my God, I wasn't prepared for how tragic this was. I think it is the oldest sister/eldest daughter in me, seeing Doey try so damn hard to be a leader to wayward children, trying so hard to manage and protect everyone, that's something I understand and sympathise with. The oldest part of him was only 15 when the hour of joy happened! The tape of him talking to himself, giving himself a reminder to keep holding on and protecting kids, God that broke my heart. I was sobbing and muttering "it's okay... you did great... you can rest now... you can go see your mommy and daddy and friends now" when he died.

I think the two facts that make this even more tragic is that the other completely sympathetic character, Dog Day (still my favourite best boi), bad things was inflicted on him. Even Dog Day as a boss, that wasn't his choice, he didn't have one. Doey on the other hand, it was self-inflicted: I can't say him going beserk was a choice per se, emotions are complicated, but he was the responsible one. This pain was self-inflicted, and unlike Dog Day, could have been avoided.

Which brings me to my second point: for Doey (so I have to emphasise, this is in NO WAY a comment on actual DID systems, and boy do I have thoughts on that), in one of the VHS tape, the scientist remarked that one of the kids that made him up: Kevin Barnes, was erratic and aggressive, and could pose a danger if included in the experiment. He ended up being included because Sawyer demanded it and "The Doctor's word is law". This means if Kevin wasn't included in Doey, if it was just Jack and Matthew, then Doey wouldn't have that insane breakdown. He would be sad, he would feel guilty, yes, but all of those are the average human emotions experienced in a situation like this, and it wouldn't have been so destructive. HE COULD HAVE SURVIVED. In his insane monster form, we can literally see the three kids in the monster's mouth, two of them frowning and one of them angry, the two sad kids trying to hold the mad one back. THIS COULD HAVE BEEN AVOIDED.

Anyways, I love the guy. I'll be drawing and mourning him. Sleep well buddy, you can rest now.

Plot and Lore:

Riley made me cry so much too. God, what a kid, trying to help, even a single soul till the very, very end. Sleep well kiddo. You did so well, and you're with your mom and dad now.

Also the way she described being turnd into a bigger-body, I wanted to throw up. Props to the writers for doing such a good job on that.

Oh the excited shout I let out when I saw the tape with Bigger Bodies Hoppy! So we know that there are more Bigger Bodies Smiling Critters that survived past the experiments and the hour of joy. But then I remembered that Dog Day said he was the last of the smiling critters and got sad, whoever Hoppy is, at this point in the story, she's gone :(

The omni-hand confuses me storywise: it's just a keycard equivalent?

Kissy Missy!!!! (that's it, I just love her)

I called three things: Poppy being Elliot's daughter, Ollie being the prototype, and Huggy still being alive. Granted a lot of people called it too, these are just the theories I believed in that turned out to be true

THERE ARE SO MANY DEAD BODIES AND EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM WAS A CHILD BEFORE I WANT TO SCREAM ABOUT THIS THIS IS AWFUL

The player is shaking in idle. That is some details. Also this person is gonna be triple traumatised.

I don't think Poppy is evil per se, but I think she is very selfish and self-centred, in the sense that she believes that she is the one with all the answers. I wonder how much did Elliot Ludwig spoil her. Also, bitch, she ditched us again.

Theories and Questions

In the Hoppy VHS, she mentioned she got jumped while trying to get supplies: jumped by what and who?

What the hell is the deal with Stella Greyber's change of heart in joining the executives on the bigger-bodies initiatives? Her change of heart is so sudden and so illogical?

It's one thing for Poppy to believe in Ollie. But Doey knowing and believing in Ollie too? How many people did he fool?

Also given that Ollie is the prototype, was his "HE'S OUTSIDE" that led to Doey going out and leaving safe haven a distraction?

I think the prototype is also an amalgamation, and one of the identities is Elliot Ludwig. It's final speech to Poppy, telling her to "come home" sound pretty in line with an evil father figure, and my sister pointed out if you removed the "T", "Elliot" is an anagram for "Ollie".

What is the prototypes agenda at this point? It's willing to collaborate with the doctor, the very person that started all this hellfire. It doesn't care about the children's lives seeing as he bombed Safe Haven, killing everyone inside. It's whole "burn it all down" idea actually echoes Poppy's agenda, but Poppy sounds genuinely shocked and scared to learn that Ollie is the prototype. What the hell is going on?

Who is Kissy? The bigger-body Kissy Missy that's been our companion for the past two chapters. Game Theory had their theory that it was Patty Hall, but I'm... starting to think it was Stella? We don't know Kissy's experiment number, and I don't think we have any info on Stella's status during the hour of joy, so it's not impossible. It's just... their... attitudes, for a lack of better words, seem to align.

Leith Pierre is out there somewhere, we know he survived since he's in project playtime, but where the hell is he now? He is a bigger player in this scheme than he lets one. I don't believe he's not gonna make an appearance in the future.

What the hell is Rich's deal? So turns out he's one of the more likeable higher-ups? And he's the head of shipping? What is up with his change in attitude from moody aggressive guy to the dad friend/supervisor?

There's this one mystery from Chapter two that still hasn't been solved: there were slides with plates of each department's head's name and one was missing: we still don't know who that could be.

I truly think at the very least for this storyline, the next chapter is the last. The doctor was the second greatest villain and now he's dead. Additionally, we came into direct contact with the prototype, so from a storytelling perspective, the next chapter has to be the last stand. I don't believe this will be the end of the poppy playtime universe though.

Conclusion/Overall Comment on the Chapter:

I liked the chapter, but I think the problem is that unlike the previous chapters that felt like a constant overall upgrade, this one didn't feel like an improvement (but nor it did feel like a downgrade though). There are aspects of the chapter that definitely improved from that last: the graphics, the gameplay mechanics, the gore making people immediately physically uneasy, and characterisation of both major and minor characters, making us immediately love or hate them in a very short time. But the pacing really felt less enjoyable compared to the last chapter, same with the boss battles. It felt like it dragged too much then rushed too much. The pros and cons kinda cancel each other out, leadings to a net zero.

My favourite is still Chapter three, but I'll give this one a 7.5/10.