#ifs model

[multiplicity-positivity]

we recently told our therapist about ourselves and we was quite understanding. She has a focus on trauma reprocessing so I think she has a background in this in some way.

Anyway, she sent us some information on Internal Family Systems. it was out first time hearing about this and as a general framework this makes a fair amount of sense for us.

We brought it up to our partner system who shared reservations about IFS and after reading more about it, we see where they're coming from.

Have you encountered IFS before? If so, is there any literature you've that you recommend? We're generally curious for the opinions of other systems, as we see the value in it as a framework for understanding ourselves and also the problems with it for what feels like reducing the experiences of other systems, particularly those with DID/OSDD.

hey, we have a little bit of experience with ifs through therapy and reading about it online. online, we have seen how it has been used in the past to dismiss and discredit dissociative disorders (some say that the parts mentioned through ifs disprove did systems being parts themselves). we have also seen it used to prove and affirm plurality, even plurality without trauma (some say that the parts that make them up through ifs do in fact make them plural).

our own host (hi) greatly benefits from ifs, and has been trying to understand the different parts of himself (not parts as in headmates, but parts as in parts through the ifs model) in order to show himself more kindness and self compassion. treating the different aspects of himself as separate individuals in need of care and attention has really been helping him, and we’re trying to support him in this however we can. we hope to be able to share this mindset with some other members in our system who similarly struggle with self hatred.

we think that recognizing each individual alter as their own multi-faceted person, each made up of their own parts with wants, needs, and desires, has really helped to humanize those of us in our system who were so dehumanized in our youth. each alter, each part, is complex and is capable of having their own parts that come together and make them up. does that make sense?

as far as literature, most of what we know about ifs we’ve learned through therapy. however, we currently have the book no bad parts: healing trauma and restoring wholeness with the internal family systems model (<- amazon link) on our reading list. we haven’t read it yet, so we can’t say for sure how helpful it is, but it looks like it’s going to be a good read.

we don’t believe that there’s any framework or model of viewing the self out there which is 100% good or 100% bad. not everyone is going to get something out of the ifs model, and that’s okay. if you find that ifs works for you, and that each member of your system coming to understand their own parts helps them heal and become better people, then awesome, you should definitely use it! if you find your system feels dismissed or demeaned by the ifs model, you shouldn’t be required to use it at all. not every framework is going to work for every person all the time, and that’s okay. heck, for systems, not every headmate may benefit from the same frameworks that the rest of their system uses, and that’s okay too!

sorry if this response seems frazzled or all over the place. we had completely finished responding when tumblr crashed, so we had to try and rewrite this from memory (oops). we hope that y’all can learn and grow together, with or without the ifs model. if you choose to not use it in your recovery process, hopefully your therapist will be understanding. wishing y’all the very best.

🐢 kip and 💫 parker

[thedansemacabres]

possibly controversial opinion, however, I am extremely wary of how people in witchy & pagan spaces are beginning to spiritualise ‘inner child work’. For those unknowing, inner child is a psychotherapy & IFS concept that seeks to provide therapy via metaphorical ‘parts’—the idea is that all of us have ‘parts’ that operate like a family unit. I won’t go into too much detail because I myself am not a licensed therapist, my biological mother is, but overall I am extremely wary of people trying to recommend courses/spells/rituals for a psychotherapy model especially without the guidance of someone actually trained in this. IFS can do serious damage even with a trained therapist, so why is it becoming a practice people are pushing as necessary in some spiritual spaces?

[craske]

tall humanized wheatley is fun hes out there sticking like a sore thumb or a landmark but. what about manlet wheatley. what about 155 wheatley. he has to look up at anyone talking to him. he gets lost in the crowd and has to do an embarrassing jump so that you can find him. an arm rest. becoming the central core makes him feel finally tall and significant and nobody can actually look down at him now

[notblue-bandit]

worst thing ab talking to protector parts is they wont stfu once you get them talking. like ok bro i get it youre scared and wont let me talk to anyone 👍 and this fucking child part that CONSTANTLY wants me to get drunk 😭 i actually was doing sm better before i opened up communication with them, my gatekeepers were doing a relatively good job. now im just fucking annoyed at everyone in my subconscious like 😞 im never gonna wanna help them with their jobs fr

[frenchphobic]

looking at all the gacha games i play and comparing them id say dislyte has the best character design, arknights having the best gameplay and world, magiareco having the best story presentation and general presentation, and bbs has best alts and thats really it

[sometimesanalice]

Call My Bluff

Summary: Rooster and Hangman have always attracted attention wherever they go. You aren't jealous, it’s just getting hard to ignore. It’s a good thing they're more than happy to remind you just who you belong with.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader x Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

Length: 5.8k

Warnings: smut and a dash of angst (mdni)

(author's note: this fic is set in the Up the Ante universe, however it can be read on it's own!)

You knew you were staring- casually observing, one could argue- but it was hard to pull your gaze away from Jake at the bar.

He had gone to get another round of drinks for everyone more than ten minutes ago. It was a busy night at the Hard Deck, but not that busy. It really shouldn’t have surprised you though to realize why he was held up, especially with the way his tight white t-shirt was offsetting his end of summer tan. He’s always been too damn charming for his own good, especially when it was paired with that deep rooted sense of southern hospitality.

It wasn’t a rare occurrence to see Hangman getting hit on by another woman. However, it was the second time that night he’d been approached by the same woman with all too interested eyes and an enticing smile.

“If I didn’t know better,” Rooster says, sliding up to you and squeezing your hip, “I’d say you’d look like you were jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” It comes out a bit too short to be believable.

He just gives you a knowing look, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “Well, you know I think you look gorgeous in pretty much everything. Including that particular shade of green.”

You let out an annoyed huff and take distracted sip of the remnants of your drink, which was now mostly melted ice cubes with an essence of gin.

Bradley just chuckles lightly and takes a quick glance around the room before pressing a quick kiss to the side of your head.

“I’m sure I could think of a couple ways to distract you," he offers.

You’ve been enjoying this something with them over the last few months. The three of you fell into everything so easily, but it wasn’t something you’d put a label on yet. You’ve always been the type of woman who likes having all the answers, but with them- with this- for the first time in your life you were ok with not having them.

There were electrifying nights the three of you spent together. And there were peaceful nights you spent home alone. There were times it was just you and Rooster and other times when it was just Hangman and you. There was time spent in beds and out of them. There were sunny days spent on the beach. There were hours spent taking road trips and exploring your new state. There were nice dinners out and quiet nights in. There were reservations made for two and there were tickets bought for three.

It was a new dynamic for you, and something you’d never could have expected. And you’ve been happy.

Really, really happy.

But over the last couple of weeks, it’s been hard ignoring the voice in the back of your head that has been filling your brain with all the what-ifs.

What if this isn’t working for them the way it was working for you.

What if this causal arrangement you have with them isn’t enough.

Or worse, what if you’re being selfish with them.

As you watch Hangman with that smooth smile on his face- but without a trace of those dimples you know so well- as he talks to the pretty girl near his elbow, you can’t help but wonder if this something – with him, with them- comes with an expiration date.

The room feels too small with the crowd of people- with their loud chatter and booming bursts of laughter- and all the too big thoughts swirling around in your head. Everything feels like too much, from the rings of ceramic mugs on the ceiling to the string lights and model planes around the bar to the patches covered walls.

“I’ll be right back,” you murmur, stepping out of Bradley’s grasp.

He hums, letting you know he’d heard you, giving you your space before drifting over to the pool table where the rest of the Daggers are gathered around.

And then you walk straight out the front door and leave.

You’ve been home for less than an hour when you hear a set of car doors shut with a heavy thud outside of your house. And there’s no question in your mind about who it could be.

The two quick, sharp raps on your front door only a few moments later confirm what you already knew.

You’d turned your phone off the moment you’d gotten in your car, wanting some time to yourself, not in any kind of mood now to be around other people. The only thing you could think of had been getting home so that you could simmer in peace. You had just wanted to get your head back on right without feeling like the walls were pressing in on you.

You open the door to see Rooster standing there looking pissed. His big arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight, and lips pressed firmly together in a flat line. Jake is just a step behind him, leaning against the porch post with his poker face already in place, a pretty picture of nonchalance.

“We tried calling,” Bradley rasps, the words clipped and short. You can tell he’s trying to keep his temper in check, but there was no missing the storm cloud behind his eyes.

You blink at him and drum your nails on the side of the door, giving him a flippant shrug. And Jake lets out a low disapproving whistle that grates on your already ragged nerves.

Rooster lifts an eyebrow at you like really. He’s always been the more hot headed one of the two of them. You know this cold shoulder act of yours is pushing his buttons, and you’re surprised he hasn’t called you out on it yet.

Not that you’d probably answer him anyways.

The last thing you want to do is talk.

It was why you left in the first place.

You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to think. And you really didn’t want to deal with your feelings.

Sex was easy. Sex was fun. Sex wasn’t complicated.

Everything else is exactly what you’d been trying to get away from, and instead all you’d done was have it delivered directly to your doorstep.

“I don’t remember inviting either one of you over,” you state, coolly, doing your best to feign indifference.

Rooster’s mouth drops opens, but Hangman is quicker on the draw. “And yet, here we are,” he says, stating the obvious, then mirroring the same brazen shrug you’d given the glowering man in front of you. “Guess the question is, are you going to let us in?”

You know without a doubt that if you said no they’d respect your decision and walk themselves right back to Jake’s truck and out of your drive away. You could have your space to simmer, just like you’d wanted.

What you’d thought you wanted.

…

Or.

Or maybe you just needed to remind yourself what exactly this is. Since there’s not much room to think when you’re too busy coming.

You drag your gaze from Bradley’s smoldering whiskey brown eyes to Jake’s all too observant sea green ones, before spinning away from them to saunter down the hallway towards your bedroom.

Knowing you still have the full weight of their twin stares on you, you reach for the hem of the oversized shirt from your college days that you’d thrown on the second you’d arrive home and tug it up and off, dropping it on the floor right before you turn the corner and out of their view.

There are a few noises you’re able to pick out in the too quiet of your house over your thundering heartbeat as you flick on the switch to the lamp in the corner of your room. The click of the front door being shut and the deadbolt turned into place. The sound of their sturdy soled shoes being toed off at the entry. The low baritone of Hangman’s murmured drawl, although the words that are spoken are too soft for you to make out.

And then the one you’d been anticipating the most, their weighty footsteps coming down the hallway to your bedroom. They’ve always teased you about it, with all of the soft pinks and creamy neutrals, and how it looks too sweet, too pure for a woman who enjoys taking two cocks as much as you do. But you’d seen the gleam in their eyes and the gears turning in their heads when they’d help you set up your pretty white wrought iron bedframe; it was the one thing they’d never commented on, especially since you were more than happy letting them tie you up to it.

You’ve just shimmied out of your panties- still bent at the waist- when you hear Bradley groan behind you. You linger there a moment longer than you need to, making sure he gets a good look at you like this. From reflection in the mirror that’s hung on your wall, you can see that the irritation is still rolling off of him in waves, but so is the heat of his want as he watches you stand back up with greedy, appreciative eyes.

Turning back towards him you let him take his fill of your naked body, one hip temptingly tipped to the side, daring him to be the one first to make a move.

Rooster slowly drags his heated gaze over you before he pulls his t-shirt over his head in that one-handed way that men do before pitching it off to the side. His broad chest is already starting to turn your favorite shade of flushed pink.

“How can a girl as pretty as you be so goddamn frustrating?” he mutters as he flicks open the button of his tight jeans. Only unzipping them enough to release some of the pressure off his visibly hard cock in a way that shows you just how turned on he is.

You feel high off of your own self-satisfaction as it twists and swirls in your chest.

“I think she just likes keeping us on our toes,” Hangman drawls, entering the room. A slight look of amusement coasts over his handsome face as he looks from you to Rooster. Clearly content to wait for the two of you to work whatever’s going on out of your systems.

You skim your fingers up your body and cup your breast in your hand. “What? You don’t think you can keep up, Rooster?” you challenge. He tips his head back up towards the ceiling and forces out a breath through pursed lips. And you’re tempted to see just how far you can push him.

“Oh, darlin’,” Jake chuckles, shaking his head, “You’re determined to trouble tonight, aren’t you?”

“And if I am?” you taunt, rolling your nipple between your fingers. Two sets of eyes hone in on the motion, but no one makes a move. “But if you both are just going to stand there, I’ve got a vibrator that works just as well- if not better.”

You’re trying to goad them. You know it and they know it.

Rooster struts up to you, grabbing a handful of your ass and hauls you against him. He’s thick and firm against your stomach. “If you’re going to act like a brat, then I’m going to treat you like a brat, baby,” he murmurs into the hinge of your jaw, “Now, get on the bed.” He punctuates the order with a swift, firm flat-handed slap.

And for the first time since you’d left the bar, you grin. Feeling entirely too pleased with yourself, even with the lingering sting of his handiwork.

This. This is what you want.

You want demanding fingers and the scrape of teeth on your skin. You want messy mouths and generous tongues.  You want fast and hard and filthy and rough. You want to hear their heavy breaths and moans and curses. You want to give and to take, only for them to reward you with more.

You want as much of them as you can have, for as long as you can have them.

Bradley basically herds you to the bed while Jake watches on with a smirk, not that you needed much convincing anyways. The second you’re stretched across it, Bradley is on top of you wedging himself and those wide shoulders of his between your thighs.

There’s no build up, no gentle lead in. Rooster’s mouth is set on ruination.

He’s had you enough times that he knows exactly how to flick and circle and lave over you in a way that will end with white noise in your ears and starbursts behind your eyelids. His tongue is unrelenting on your clit, showing you no mercy as you start to quake under his touch.

It’s dizzying how fast he’s gotten you so spun up. Your breaths are coming out ragged and uneven as your fingers dig into the fabric of your gauzy duvet. And every time you whimper, he rewards you with a groan that only ripples up and throughout your keyed up body.

You’re right there, so so close to unraveling.

And then he pulls his mouth off of you, “Why’d you leave?”

A shocked gasp escapes you. At the timing of the question and the way he bites the fleshy part at the crease of your thigh.

“Bradley.” You keen as he sucks the very same spot, like he wants to mark you as his own.

“C’mon now, Bradshaw,” Jake tuts, from where he’s leaning against the door jamb, “Our girl was so close.” His ankles casually cross over each other, looking right at home as he watches you get eaten out by another man.

Rooster scoffs. “She can come as much as she wants, after she answers the damn question.” He brings the hand that had been gripping your hip over the center of you. “How about this,” he says, sinking a single thick finger into you, “Consider this a show of good faith.”

And then he has the audacity to send you a smirk.

“Fuck you, Rooster,” you huff, tilting into his touch. Bradley just hums and rolls his eyes, because he knows you well enough to tell when you actually mean it and when you don’t.

“You could be,” he reminds you. Then crooks his finger just enough to show you how devastatingly good it could be if he wasn’t set on edging an answer out of you.

You roll your hips trying to take more. To get him to give more. Anything to get you to that heady place again, where the only thing keeping you grounded in the moment is their bodies against yours.

“That’s it, sweetheart, keep riding his fingers.” Hangman’s hot gaze roams all over you as he crosses the room to sit down on the bed next to you. He reaches out and runs a big hand down your sternum, you arch into it offering more of yourself up to his touch. You know he’s feeling every jump of the muscles in your stomach under his heavy hand as he rests it in the soft space under your bellybutton.

You suck in a breath when Bradley teases you with a second finger. He only allows you one heartbeat of hope before he denies you that more, more, more you’re desperate for.

But he wasn’t the only one in the room capable of giving you exactly what you wanted.

“Jake, come on, fuck me.” You look up at him from under your lashes, hoping he’ll be the one to cave first.

“You’re a regular poet laurate, aren’t you,” Jake states, shaking his head at you.

You shoot him a glare. “I’ll write you a haiku later, just make me come.”

You feel a puff of air over your cunt from Rooster’s amused chuckle. It causes you to clench around his finger, but it’s not enough to get you there.

You try to reach for Hangman’s cock, still confined in the snug jeans he was wearing. He doesn’t even give you the chance to undo the top button before he catches your hand in his. “Nuh-uh, greedy girl, none of that.” Hangman presses the palm of your hand over his length, showing exactly what you’re being denied. “Not sure you’ve earned this, not after your disappearing act.”

“Not you too,” you pant. Weren’t sure if it was the weight on your chest or the sheer want of them that was making it hard for you to get a proper breath.

“Yes, me too. I don’t think you realize just how much you worried the old man,” Jake drawls, “You know that can’t be good for his heart.”

The old man between your trembling thighs takes the opportunity to rub his mustache over your needy clit, the friction of it almost makes you jump out of your too tight skin. And for an all too brief moment your mind blanks as need ricochets throughout your body, the only thing you can think of is how desperate you are to come.

Jake collects your other wrist in his warm hand and brings them up above your head. He leans over you, with your faces only a few inches apart you can smell the peppermint of his favorite mints on his breath.

“Leave them up there for me,” he murmurs. It’s a command that’s dressed up like a request.

He pauses a moment and searches your eyes, asking you a silent question with the resolved dip of his chin. You answer by curling your fingers into the edge of your mattress, it’s your first concession of the evening. The only one you’re planning on making.

Jake gives them a quick squeeze before he lets go, “Good girl.” His southern accent is smoother and richer than honey against your ear, it makes your toes curl in response.

“Oh, now you want to behave,” Bradley grumbles into your inner thigh, his slightly chapped lips scraping against your oversensitive skin. “Don’t forget, I’m still waiting for an answer, baby.”

His fingertip on your clit isn’t teasing anymore, now it feels like a taunt.

“Next question.” You dig your heel into his shoulder blade, urging him for more, but he doesn’t budge an inch.

Neither one of you are ready to fold.

You can feel the sweat starting to collect behind your knees where they’re resting over the overheated skin of Bradley’s shoulders as he alternates between slow, shallow thrusts and a featherlight touch of his calloused fingertip against your clit. Every now and then- if he’s feeling generous- he’ll treat you to his tongue, dipping out to taste and tease you.

Rooster takes his time in that thorough way of his to get your legs quivering and quaking. He keeps you teetering there, perfectly and precisely balanced on the edge. Not enough to get you off, but just enough to keep a steady flow of wetness dripping out of you. You don’t need to see his hand to know you’re making a mess out of him. Out of yourself. And probably out of your duvet.

Your body feels like a house of cards, just one breath away from toppling over. gust

“Jesus,” Jake says, his voice husky and rough, “I won’t ever get tired of seeing you like this.” His eyes feasting on your body that’s displayed just for their hungry gaze.

But he might, that voice in your head taunts you. They might.

You press your forehead into his denim covered thigh, it’s all too much and not enough all at once.

This wasn’t what you’d imagined when you’d invited them inside. You’d envisioned hand mussed hair and skin-on-skin and their flushed, satisfied faces. And so far, you were still the only one naked.

“You’re not… This isn’t…” Your fingers flex as your arms strain with the effort to keep them where they are raised above your head. “Why are you still dressed?” you hotly demand, not ready to forfeit this one-sided fight.

“I’m just here for the free show.” Hangman circles his finger lazily around your bellybutton. “You’ve been so determined to be so tight-lipped all night, but that pretty pussy of yours is sure making a lot of noise for a woman who hasn’t even been properly fucked yet.”

You’re hit with the realization that he’s giving you a taste of what you’d been dishing out since the moment they’d arrived, always one to give as good as he gets. It was just as hot as it was infuriating. Because that’s the thing about knowing how to push someone’s buttons was that they knew exactly how to push yours in return.

“You better watch your mout-ah.” You might have sounded almost convincing if Rooster hadn’t pumped three thick fingers into you suddenly, stretching and spreading you around them. You gasp and arch off the bed at the sensation. It’s the most he’s given you all night.

Jake tsks, flashing you his dimples. “But I’m having fun watching his mouth instead,” he says, nodding his head towards Bradley. “Speaking of, you got a little something on your chin there, Bradshaw.”

“That’s because arguing gets her wet.”

You can’t even deny it because the evidence is right there for them both to hear in the slick sound of him thrusting his fingers back into you. You press your head into the bed and try to arch your hips, but Jake’s firm hand pushes them back down, making you whine.

“Rooster, please, I just want to come.” And if it sounds like begging, it’s because you are now.

“And you know what I want, so it seems we’re at a stalemate.” You try to hitch your right leg open further, but Bradley hooks his arm around your thigh and pulls it back in, keeping you in place. “Baby, I’ve got all the time in the world. I’m a patient man. For as much fun as I’m having here trying to get an answer out of you, I’d much rather be coaxing orgasms from you instead.”

The frustration swells and crests inside of you. You’re tired of being toyed with when all you’d wanted was to not have to think for a while.

“Bradley, you can’t seriously expect me to want to have a damn heart-to-heart when your fingers are literally inside of me,” you fume.

“Ok, then.” He pins you with a pointed look and withdraws them, finally calling your bluff. “Can you please tell us what the hell is going on now?”

Jake tips your chin up to look at him, the congeniality replaced on his face with seriousness. “As much as I try to avoid agreeing with him, I think you owe us an explanation for why you left without saying a single word to either one of us, darlin’.”

“I didn’t realize I answered to you,” you say, haughtily. Not proud of yourself for getting short with them when they don’t deserve the heat of your irritation.  

His eyebrows pull together in confusion. “Hey now, you know it’s not like that.”

“What’s it like then, Jake? It’s not like you’re-” you cut yourself off, pressing your lips tightly together.

Of course he doesn’t let it slide. “We’re not what?”

Him and Rooster exchange a look over the top of you when you don’t elaborate further, some unspoken understanding passing between them. The mood between the three of you shifting immediately.

Hangman tugs you up just enough for him to maneuver himself behind you and cradles you back against his chest, his arms winding themselves around your waist. As Bradley rests his chin on top of your thigh, his thumb making soothing circles on the swell of your hip, “We’re not what, baby?” And you’re not sure you’ve ever heard his raspy voice so soft before.  

The silence stretches as you war with yourself. They know you well enough to know you need a moment. You’d made a career for yourself knowing the right words- the strategic kind- but when it came to communicating your feelings, you’d always found it so much harder to string them together.

This is the exact conversation you’d been trying so hard to run from, but you didn’t want to play games with them anymore.

Sharing your emotions makes you feel a thousand times more vulnerable than being naked in front of them ever has. With them you feel sexy and powerful and wanted, especially when you’re pressed between them like you are now. It’s a different kind of intimacy entirely letting them see the confusing mess of what’s going on inside your mind.

“Does this have anything to do with Rooster teasing you about being jealous earlier tonight?” Hangman asks, lifting an eyebrow. “Because you should know by now that I only have eyes for one girl.”

And there it is- bullseye. 

Your gaze slides over to Bradley, “You told him about that?” He shrugs a broad shoulder, which jostles the thigh that’s still draped over it.

“He was concerned when we realized you weren’t at the Hard Deck anymore, we both were.” Jake cups your cheek and turns your face back to him, encouraging you to rest your head on his shoulder.  “I asked him to fill me in on what I’d missed, because I thought we were having a good night up until I came back from the bar to learn you weren’t anywhere to be found and not answering your phone.”

The wave of guilt that washes over you makes your stomach churn uncomfortably. You’d been so inside your own head that you hadn’t taken even a moment to think about how they’d feel about your impulsive retreat. At the very least, you should have sent a text before turning off your phone.

You chew on your lower lip for a moment, before speaking, your voice quiet and tentative, “You can’t be jealous when you don’t have any real claim to someone.”

It’s not like you can be frustrated at anyone other than yourself. You were the one who wanted to try and keep things discreet. Casual. Because of your job and theirs. People talked enough on their own without you wanting to give them any more fuel to add to the smoking embers.

The rumors of your favorite aviators’ hook up had followed them for years since that first time it happened in Florida, just not many people knew that it had been you from the very start. You’d all kept in touch, but infrequent nights spent tangled in sheets before returning back to your real life was different than all of you being stationed together for the foreseeable future.

The ambiguity of what you all were to each other had chafed at you tonight in a way it never has before. It wasn’t something that you’d all talked about together before. After seeing the interest on the other woman’s face, you couldn’t deny that her and Jake had looked good together. But what you’d been most struck by was just how content and at ease he looked leaning there with an elbow at the bar.

It wasn’t a secret those closest to you all there was something going on between the three of you. After all, Bradley was affectionate and Jake was objectively the least subtle man on the planet. It wasn’t something you were hiding; it just wasn’t something you were actively trying to broadcast to all of NAS North Island.

But for the most part, they’d been following your lead since they knew you liked to keep your cards close to your chest. And while you liked to consider yourself an enigma, they were both looking at you right now like you were a book that only they were fluent in reading.

“‘Real claim’,” Jake repeats back to you, slowly. Like he’s not believing what he’s hearing. “Oh darlin’, where’d you get that idea?”

“Is that what this is all about?” Rooster’s eyes are intense as he looks at you. “Just because we’ve been keeping things casual doesn’t mean this thing between all of us isn’t the real deal. I’m not seeing or sleeping with anyone else. And I don’t want to.”

“I’m not either,” Hangman adds, running his hands along your sides. “I’ve got my hands more than full with you and I like it that way.”

You knew that they weren’t and they knew you weren’t too. Sex has always been the easier thing to talk about. That particular discussion had ended with the mix of their cum dripping out of you and too many orgasms to count.

But what happened if having fun turned into wanting more. You didn’t know how long they’d be fine with this dynamic, with splitting time and attention.

You look from one to the other. From green to brown. “And you’re both truly fine with sharing? I need you to be really honest with me.”

Bradley tilts his head at you, and asks, “You don’t think we’ve talked about this before?”

A surprised laugh almost slips out of you at the mental image of them hashing out their feelings during the commercials between some game on TV, but he’s looking at you so thoughtfully that you know he’s being entirely serious. The fact that this was something they’d already discussed between themselves on their own was news to you, especially considering you felt like you could barely get the words out yourself.

“I had no idea,” you admit, not sure whether to feel sheepish or not.

Jake tangles the fingers of your right hands together. “The way I see it is that even when you’re not with me, I know you’re with someone I know and trust, who cares about you just as much as I do. Someone who’s going to look out for you the same way that I would.”

You almost expect him to tack on a joke at Rooster’s expense at the end, a bit of banter or something to liven the mood, but he doesn’t. And the weight of his words sinks into you.

“And when we’re together? When it’s the three of us?” You reach out with your other hand to run your thumb along Bradley’s jaw, needing to touch him too.

“You know us pilots, we’re a competitive bunch. But we also work as well on our own as we do as a team.” Bradley explains, running his hands along the outside of your legs. “And what we do here together with you, it just feels like an extension of how we are up there.” Jake squeezes your hand in agreement.

“But how is this going to work? It’s already complicated enough when there are only two people in the equation.”

“You’re the one calling the shots here. You’re in charge and always have been ever since that first time in Pensacola,” Rooster reminds you. “We’re both here because we don’t want anyone else. This doesn’t need to be complicated. Whether you’re with him or with me or we’re all together. It’s already working just fine when you aren’t going ghost on us and ditching us without saying a word.”

You know you’re going to have to make it up to him. For as confident and sure of himself as Bradley Bradshaw is, you know the spots where he’s tender and tonight you were careless with them. You’re just grateful he’s going to give you the chance to make things right by him.

“We’re good. This is good,” Jake promises, leaning his forehead against your temple.

You feel like your heart might burst from the sheer affection you have for the two of them.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” you say, apologetically.

Hangman’s lips skim your cheek. “It’s water under the bridge, darlin’. But if you need space, tell us. Don’t just cut us off like that, ok?” You nod in agreement. “So what do you need from us? Do you want to call us your boyfriends?”

“I think I just…” You pause to mull over your words. They already were in all the ways that mattered, you just weren’t sure whether you were ready to define it entirely. At least not yet. “I think I just need to know that you’re happy. Just like this. With how we’ve been doing things.”

“Baby.” Bradley croons. So sweetly, so indulgently. And you get the first real smile you’ve seen from him since he arrived on your doorstep. It’s your turn to smile when he drops a kiss to the top of your thigh. “Are you happy?”

The answer is easy.

“Yes.”

He looks over at Jake. “And are you?”

Jake has his chin propped up on your shoulder. “I’m happy,” he confirms, kissing the spot behind your ear that always makes you shiver deliciously.

“And I definitely don’t have anything to complain about.” Rooster says, gesturing to his spot between your legs. You lightly tug on his hair and he laughs. “Yes, sweetheart, I’m happy too.” He reaches for your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it.

“So I was the only one overthinking things?”

“You sure were,” Hangman agrees, “You and that big brain of yours.” He trails open-mouth kisses up your neck. “Now have you straightened out your shit or are we going to have to do it for you?” he asks into the shell of your ear. You can feel the grin he’s wearing, and you’re positive if you turned to look at him you’d see those dimples of his.

“No promises,” you sing.

Because where’s the fun in that?

“There she is,” Bradley murmurs, honeyed and soft. A sigh escapes you when you feel his tongue along the inside of your thigh, even as your heart starts to race.

“That’s our girl.” Jake tips your head back, lips a whisper away from yours and desire reflected in his green eyes. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to kiss me until he makes you come. And then I’m going to fuck the attitude out of you while you apologize to Rooster for being so mouthy. We’re gonna remind you what it’s like to have two aviators wrapped around your little finger. Sound good?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply as he slips his tongue into your mouth at the same time Bradley licks into you. And you know this time you won’t have to beg for an orgasm, you’ll probably have to beg them to stop serving you them.

You feel yourself melt into them. The tension you’d been carrying since even before the bar fades with every one of their touches. Happy and content in knowing that they’re yours just as much as you are theirs.

And true to his word, you’re kissed through an orgasm. And another. And another.

That night, there are two mouths that never leave your body once.

Two sets of hands that are just as capable of keeping you grounded as they are giving you pleasure.

Two warm, strong bodies that give and take then hold you throughout the night.

Two men who- one day very soon - might possibly share your whole heart.

Many thanks to the person who sent me this ask! I had fun writing this one! Thank you for reading!

Many thanks to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse ) as always!

If you want more of them, here is the fic that started it all!

You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

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[patchoulol]

By 1 vote, it's Homura Akemi, so I want you all 7 of you to pretend yours was the only vote that mattered!

Tagged by @busyfish to give four characters I like and let my followers vote on who reminds them most of me.

For science, let's see what happens if I don't include Patchouli at all.

[sundays-mutt]

there's a lot of discussion and speculation about the fact john doesn't speak of arthur in rdr1. logistically it's not hard to understand that rdr1 just came out years before rdr2 and thats why but . But.

but when you think of rdr1 with the additional context two, there is something quite... in line with john trying to forget arthur. wanting to. or burying him. not just in metaphor or in soil but in his memories and in some way failing to do it but in another succeeding

you think of john and his commitment to his son and wife and you think of his willingness to do anything for them. moral or not. righteous or not. and you think of the fact that john didn't know at the time the sort of man arthur believed him to be, but he perhaps modeled himself in the image of his older brother. near incidental. he has so little in common with arthur really. john's broody and lacking remorse and at twenty-six he's inconsiderate entirely in a way arthur never was.

but time is a thief and one day, he turns 38. he's older than arthur when he dies. and john doesn't remember well what he looks like, and all he can feel when he thinks of arthur is grief. grief that never ends. thats the thing about all of it, you'll realize - is that john knows arthur best in the retroactive.

the sort of complicated, odd man arthur was revealed to him in the creases of pages and keepsakes. in the carving of his guns that john finds after arthur is gone. in the ring of the woman arthur loved long ago. in the confessionals to his son isaac and the regret in the letters he wrote to their psuedo father. you realize john knows more of arthurs stagnant ghost that can't guide john into manhood the way he so desperately needs. and it's all he has to go by to make a man of himself.

john never finds out what kind of man arthur believed him to be and he has to infer the real good man arthur was. in grief there is love. john loved arthur enough to want to be like him. and in burying the living, breathing man arthur was he's forced to cling to his spirit. has to piece together the kindness of his older brother through memories and diary entries and secondhand stories. and that's how he models himself in rdr1 to me. where arthur is moral john becomes dutiful and where arthur is kind, john is helpful. he becomes the shadow of arthurs best qualities. he can never be arthur. no one could ever be arthur, even if arthur had given them the page by page instructions of how to do so. this is all he has. all he knows. all he can do.

john misses his brother. so he tries to embody him. but he can't really in the same way he can't grieve him. so he makes a home for arthurs ghost to return to in himself. john never mentions arthur because it dregs up painful what-ifs, but they share so many mannerisms and bastardized qualities. john has fashioned himself based on those loose memories.

one day, a stranger meets john and says. "why would you remember me, friend? you've forgotten far more important people than me" and john will remember all the ghosts he's ever loved briefly. there will be a blurry face and a forgiving voice and it will sound like a memory and it will linger in johns ribcage like a moth. and john won't remember. he won't. he can't. he buried his brother without ever doing it.

john says a lot of things. feels a lot of things. he shoots his gun to the stranger who calls his memory into question and the thing jams and the bastard roams free. john will taste blood in his mouth. he'll feel a cough in his lungs and well, he won't remember his brother still. buried men must stay buried.

of course. of course john never mentions arthur. he can't remember him, even though he's inherited so much of his manner. to speak it of him would be admitting to his existence. its admitting: i miss you. im sorry. it was my fault.

of course john never mentions arthur. he's made all this effort in forgetting him that even when his body and his gesture and his character betray the fact he's forgotten - his mind will soothe the pain and blur out his face.

and instead of remembering in life even once, he'll die the same way arthur did. alone. protective. contented. redeemed. john loves arthur like most brothers do - with muscle memory.

even if john cuts the necrosis of arthurs memory off of him, his body will twitch at the phantom feeling of his existence. john remembers even when he can't. arthur his only brother. the most important man he's ever forgotten.

[emlan]

More puppet cats 🐱🐱 Though fortunately for Geppetto these old man models are only What-Ifs.

[hwaflms]

REPLAY ☆ !!

💭 send an ask or comment for questions/to be added to the taglist of a specific fic

— 𖦹 00’ line + mark as romantic tropes (series)

. . . searching for TRUE LOVE? look no further!! ‘replay’ offers a curated collection of love in its various forms. just pick a trope from our FIVE different options and it’s yours. buy your trope now!! ↓ ↓ ↓

JUMP CUT!

they say hate is a strong word, but you are pretty sure you hate lee donghyuck.

ᯓ★ pairing. haechan x reader

ᯓ★ trope. enemies to lovers

ᯓ★ genre. actors au | mature

ᯓ★ desc. after all the time and effort it took you to get where you are now, were you really going to let haechan ruin it for you? even if you hate him? even if he’s cast in the same movie as you? even if your characters are in love and you have to kiss him on camera?

⭒ OUT OF STOCK ⭒

HOW TO BE A WINGMAN 101

mark can’t get bitches :(

ᯓ★ pairing. mark x reader

ᯓ★ trope. best friends to lovers

ᯓ★ genre. college au | mature

ᯓ★ desc. you’ve known mark lee for a long time now, but you can’t remember the last time he’s even looked in the direction of a woman. being the good best friend you are, you offer to show mark the ropes and help him find some bitches. what could go wrong?

⭒ OUT OF STOCK ⭒

MISSED THE BOAT

sex doesn’t require any emotional attachment.

ᯓ★ pairing. jaemin x reader

ᯓ★ trope. fwb to lovers

ᯓ★ genre. models au | mature

ᯓ★ desc. finally getting to work with him on a shoot, jaemin’s everything you’ve been told he is. charming, intelligent and good at his job, it doesn’t take much for you two to become friends. the only problem is you find him attractive, maybe a little too attractive. are you setting yourself up to get played by the player?

⭒ OUT OF STOCK ⭒

SOUR GRAPES

one little kiss can’t hurt, right?

ᯓ★ pairing. renjun x reader

ᯓ★ trope. best friend’s brother

ᯓ★ genre. high school au (characters are 18+) | mature

ᯓ★ desc. growing up, it was always girls rule and boys drool with you and your best friend. now that you’re older, how do you tell your best friend that the rule has always applied to every man except her older brother? how can you make a choice when there’s so much at stake?

⭒ OUT OF STOCK ⭒

HOOKED

i don’t dance with strangers, sorry.

ᯓ★ pairing. jeno x reader

ᯓ★ trope. strangers to lovers

ᯓ★ genre. non-idol au | mature

ᯓ★ desc. all your life, you’ve always played by the rules. you’ve never asked for more than you received, never dwelled on the ‘what-ifs’, you’ve never expected anything more out of life. you’ve got a decent job and a boyfriend who loveslikes you. what more could you want? how could an unanticipated encounter with a stranger at a club change your life?

⭒ OUT OF STOCK ⭒

© 2024, hwaflms.

[bumblesimagines]

i had a great time.

maybe you should go.

Maddy Perez

maybe you should go.

i had a great time.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

You and Lexi shared many similarities as twins. There was the shared love for literature and theater, the longing for Suze's attention, the bitter resentment toward Gus for leaving and never saying goodbye, the feeling of constantly being in Cassie's shadow, and of course, similar physical features.

But, like other siblings, you and Lexi were also vastly different.

Lexi preferred her solitude. She could spend hours alone in her shared bedroom on her laptop creating screenplay after screenplay in an online document. She was clumsy and awkward and despite her writing skills, she had trouble speaking to others without stammering or tripping over her words. Behind nearly every decision and action Lexi made had been a thought-out plan filled with 'what ifs'. You preferred leaps of faith into the unknown where the end destination wasn't visible until the last second. More often than not, you were left scrambling to ensure your ass wouldn't be toast.

Like the night after a party at a classmate's place when you woke up at home in your cozy bed with the slim body of your sister's closest friend cuddled up at your side and you left to stare at the ceiling debating your choices.

On one hand, Maddy Perez was bitchy and confident enough to pretend nothing ever happened between you and her. On the other hand, Nathaniel Jacobs had enough privilege to get away with murder if she ever let it slip. 

So, there you remained, staring up at the ceiling and rethinking the life choices that led up to that moment. If only you hadn't agreed to go to the party with the girls. If only you hadn't agreed to Elliot's stupid challenge of flirting with Maddy to see what the school's queen bee would do. If only you'd encouraged the girls to head to their respective homes instead of crashing at the Howard residence. Then maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't be wondering what the hell Nate Jacobs would do to you if he ever found out you slept with his girlfriend. It wasn't as if you could sneak out and play dumb if she asked. She was in your bed, in your house.

Craning your neck to take a peek at her when she began to stir, you finally noticed her messy appearance. Her maroon lipstick had smudged considerably and from the red markings scattered across your skin, you could only assume how it'd happened. Her glittery, silver makeup appeared in a similar state, and the glitter smudged against your skin, twinkling with the sunlight that poured in from the window. Her hair was in the worst state you'd ever seen it in, and you found your gaze drawn to the light markings on her neck and shoulders. Her dark eyes fluttered open and for the first time since entering high school, you found yourself hoping for some disgust or repulsion in them. But instead, a yawn escaped her lips and she tiredly rubbed at her eyes.

"Morning." You murmured a bit awkwardly and dragged yourself up to rest your back against the headboard. She snorted quietly and brushed her raven hair out of her face, somehow still looking like a model. "About last night-"

"I had a great time. I never thought Cassie's little brother would have it in him. " Maddy began with a coy grin and you waited for a 'but' to follow. "We should do this again sometime." She purred instead and planted a kiss on the corner of your lips. You could practically feel your ego growing, but they weren't the words you wanted to hear from someone whose boyfriend had no problem with destroying the lives of those who even looked at her twice.

"Right." You forced a chuckle. Fuck. "I had a good time too, Mads, but I-I think maybe you should go or at least sneak into the girls' room before they wake up. I just... I think Cassie might get upset if she finds out and I, uh, I don't want to get you in trouble with Nate either." 

She blinked at you and then blinked again. Her perfectly plucked brows slowly furrowed and the tips of her lips dragged downward. You couldn't quite tell what the look on her face meant. Was she disappointed? Hurt? Sad?

"You're kicking me out?" Ah. Of course, she was offended. Maddy getting turned down was an occurrence that only happened on blue moons and even then, whoever rejected her would only end up taking it back moments later. 

"Maddy, I really think it's for the best. This will only end up hurting us both in the end." You tried again, speaking softly as if it'd do anything to convince her.

"And what if I don't care? What if I want to continue this?"

[cerisesparadise]

unspoken roads ㅡ park sunghoon

pairing - rising actor!sunghoon x fem movie director!reader

genre - romantic drama, contemporary romance, coming-of-age, lovers to exes to lovers (everyone deserves a happy ending), slight angst

warnings - none, other than writing this sent me on an emotional rollercoaster :’) maybe somewhat an open ending? (lmk if i missed anything!)

wc -  3.8k

synopsis - Once inseparable in the vibrant city of LA, Sunghoon and Y/N chased their dreams–he, a rising star in modelling and acting; she, a passionate filmmaker. When success pulled them apart, they believed they had lost each other for good. Years later, fate reunites them on the set of a film–she’s the director, he’s the lead actor. As old feelings resurface, they must confront whether their love can survive the same dreams that once tore them apart. Can they rewrite their story, or are some loves meant to remain lost?

a/n - hi!! so I can't even count the amount of times I cried while writing this, it genuinely sent me on a huge rollercoaster of emotions </3 Eitherway, the inspiration for this fic was NIKI's song "La la lost you"! Listening to the song made me think about the intent of the song, two lovers being separated in two different cities so - actor sunghoon in nyc and film director reader in la was born! I promise there will be more fluffy stories, but I hope you enjoy regardless! | bookshelf

On his rare day off, Sunghoon had no real destination in mind. Wrapped up against the biting winter air, he strolled through the streets of New York, the buzz of the city moving around him like a blur. Normally, he thrived in the energy of it all–the constant movement, the endless opportunities–but today felt different. There was nothing pressing on his schedule, no meetings, no rehearsals. Just time.

And in the quiet of that space, his thoughts drifted back to you. It wasn’t the first time. Every now and then, especially on days like this, he’d find himself lost in memories of LA. The way you used to pull him into some obscure café or alley, insisting it was your special place, even though anyone could’ve stumbled upon it. The way you’d get excited about your next project, your eyes shining with that determination he always admired. He hasn’t thought of those moments in a while–not intentionally, anyway–but they had a habit of creeping in when things slowed down, when he wasn’t distracted by work or the hustle of the city.

The cold air stung his skin, but the memories warmed him in a way that left him feeling both nostalgic and hollow. There were no answers in those memories, just lingering what-ifs.

It had been five years since he last saw you, and every moment since then felt like an echo of what his life had been before. The streets of New York had become all too familiar over the past years, yet it wasn’t the familiarity that hurt. Sunghoon had carved out a life here–navigating through the bustling avenues, attending high-profile events, and landing roles that had once felt like distant dreams. But as he walked through the city that had become his home, a weight settled in his chest. The echoes of laughter and love he once shared with you lingered in his mind, making the vibrant lights of the city feel hollow. He couldn’t shake the memories of you–the way you had once laughed beside him in the warm glow of the Los Angeles sun, the way you danced barefoot on the beach together as the sun set behind you. Now, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever feel that spark again, lost in a city that reminded him of everything he had chosen to leave behind. One would say he’s living the dream, but to him it would never be complete without you in it. In LA, everything felt simple. Effortless even. But that was before the distance, before the cold realisation that dreams sometimes took people in different directions.

His breath came out in soft clouds as he walked aimlessly, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. He had come here for a reason–some interviews, some shoots, the kind of opportunity he used to dream about when he was younger. Now, it felt hollow, like every victory he earned since you left only reminded him of what he no longer had. He tried to move on, to drown himself in work, but the thought of you lingered in the back of his mind like a song he couldn’t stop humming.

The last time he saw you was back home, standing in the doorway of your shared apartment. You had smiled that bittersweet smile of yours, the one that told him you were proud of him, even though you knew this was goodbye. “New York’s waiting for you,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears in your eyes. “I know you’ll shine there.”

He wanted to believe you, wanted to believe that this was just another chapter, that there would be more time later. But now, with the distance between you stretching not just across cities but across hearts, he wasn’t so sure.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him back to the present. It was a message from one of the guys, asking him to meet up for dinner. He ignored it for now, his gaze drifting up to the skyline. The city felt vast, cold, and impersonal, but it was exactly where you wanted to be–pursuing your own dreams. You always loved New York, even as a child. You used to tell him how you could picture yourself walking down Broadway, sipping coffee in Central Park, living the life you’d always imagined.

And now he was there. Living it without you.

A part of him wished you had asked him to stay, but he knew it wouldn’t have been fair. He couldn’t expect you to give up everything you worked for just because he was chasing his dreams. Love wasn’t about holding each other back, and he knew that the moment he boarded the plane to New York. Still, that didn’t make the ache any easier to bear. Leaving you behind in LA felt like leaving a part of himself behind, and even after all these years in a city that became his second home, he couldn’t shake the emptiness of what he left behind.

He paused in front of a small coffee shop, the kind you would’ve loved. He could almost see you sitting inside, a book in your hand, your eyes lighting up as you talked about your latest idea for a new movie. The pang of hope was sharp, almost cruel. For a moment, he considered walking in, pretending that maybe time stood still, that the years and distance didn’t erase what you were.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Because he knew–you weren’t waiting for him anymore. And somehow, that truth was heavier than the weight of all the dreams he's ever chased.

Sunghoon sighed, his breath visible in the air again, and turned away from the shop. Maybe this was just how it was meant to be—two people who loved each other but had to let go to chase their own stars. Maybe, in another life, another version of New York or LA, things would have been different.

But for now, the distance was too great, the city too vast. And he was lost. Lost in New York. Lost without you.

As he walked back towards the subway, the city buzzing around him, Sunghoon couldn’t help but whisper to himself, "La la, I lost you."

A few days later, as Sunghoon sat in the backseat of the car, his mind wandered once again, almost on cue. The streets of New York became second nature to him by now, but today felt distant, like background noise to the memories swirling in his head. He hasn’t thought about LA in a while, or at least, he hasn’t allowed himself to. But today, as the city rushed past, his thoughts drifted back to you, like they did the other day when he passed by the café. The quiet moments you shared, the late-night conversations, the way your eyes would light up when you talked about your dreams–it all felt so vivid, as if time didn’t pass at all.

It was strange how quickly memories crept up on him, slipping through the cracks of his busy life. Especially now, on the brink of something new. He wondered if you still thought about him in quiet moments too. Lost in thought, he barely noticed the car pulling up to the studio. With a sigh, he pushed the memories back down, burying them like always, as he stepped out to face the day ahead.

Sunghoon walked through the studio’s doors, his usual calm demeanour in place. The hustle and energy of the place were familiar–people darting from one end to another, lighting technicians testing their setups, and makeup artists chatting with the stylists as they prepared for the day. He had grown accustomed to the noise, the constant buzz of activity that came with every project, but this one felt different. Bigger.

“Sunghoon!” His manager’s voice broke through the noise as she approached, holding a thick packet of papers in her hand–the script. “This is the one, I’m telling you. It’s a career-defining role, the perfect chance to showcase everything you’ve been working for. The studio’s all-in on this, and they’re backing you hard. You’re going to be the lead of something special.”

He nodded, taking the script from her hands, and flipping through the pages absentmindedly. He already knew the outline–he agreed to this project because the story spoke to him. It was intense, emotionally raw, and complex. But he didn’t have the chance to dive into the full script yet.

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tracing the edges of the script as he glanced over the pages. The movie, Unspoken Roads, had an almost magnetic pull–something about it felt deeply personal, even if he couldn’t quite place why.

The script unfolded like a slow-burning memory. Doyun, a man in his late twenties, had lost five years of his life to an accident–five years, including the memories of a woman he once loved, Eunjin. She was written as a beacon in Doyun’s forgotten past, someone he couldn’t recall but felt inexplicably drawn to. A road trip was their journey, but also a metaphor for piecing together shattered fragments of love, memories scattered by time. Each word seemed to pulse with the weight of something Sunghoon himself had long buried

Sunghoon paused. His eyes lingered on a line: “You can’t remember me, but I never forgot you.”

The words blurred as they sank in. Unconsciously, his breath hitched, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. Doyun’s journey, his confusion, his longing for a love he couldn’t recall–it hit too close to home. Sunghoon didn’t lose his memories, but it felt like he had lost something just as precious when he left LA. When he left you.

It hit too close to home, almost painfully so. He hasn’t thought about you in years–rather attempted not to–or maybe he did, constantly, but kept shoving the thoughts away, burying them beneath his rising career and busy schedules. But reading this, watching Doyun retrace a love he couldn’t remember, Sunghoon felt like he was standing in those shoes. He thought of you, the one he left behind in LA, the one who told him to go, to chase his dreams without you.

“We’re better off this way.” That’s what you said, wasn’t it? Or maybe you said nothing at all, just smiling through the sadness. And like Eunjin in the script, you had your own ambitions, your own road to take. He told himself it was the right choice. So why did it still feel wrong?

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. This isn’t about her, he reminded himself. It’s just a script. But as he read through the pages, your face kept flashing in his mind–every line felt like a whisper of the past, tugging at the feelings he so desperately tried to move on from.

Doyun and Eunjin’s story was all too familiar. The lost time, the unsaid words, the lingering question of what if? What if he had stayed? What if you had asked him to? Would things have been different? Could you have worked it out?

He swallowed hard, blinking away the sudden weight behind his eyes. Sunghoon didn’t sign up for this movie expecting it to strike so deeply, to unravel feelings he had locked away. Without realising it, a tear slipped down his cheek, then another, until his vision blurred entirely. The line between the script and his own past dissolved, and for a moment, he wasn’t reading Doyun’s story. He was living his own.

“Sunghoon, makeup’s ready,” a voice interrupted, like a background hum.

His thumb brushed against the tear-stained page as he stared blankly at the final scene. Doyun and Eunjin were standing face-to-face, years of separation between them, the weight of time palpable. His breath stuttered as he read Doyun’s final plea: “I lost you once. Please, I can’t lose you again. I love you too much, Eunjin.”

That line… was it something he would’ve said if he ever had the chance to see you again? Or has he already lost you for good?

“Sunghoon?” His manager’s voice was closer, more urgent.

He still didn’t respond, lost in the words, lost in a past that long slipped through his fingers. Tears continued to fall, silent but steady, until a firm hand rested on his shoulder, grounding him back to reality.

“Sunghoon!” His manager shook him gently.

He blinked, startled, realising his cheeks were wet. “Huh?” he mumbled, wiping his face quickly, disoriented by the emotion that caught him off guard.

His manager’s concerned eyes met his. “You okay? You’re… crying.”

Sunghoon touched his burning cheek, noticing the tears for the first time. He didn’t even realise. He let out a shaky breath, trying to compose himself. “Yeah, I… I’m fine. Just–this script, it’s–”

“Yeah, I know. It’s intense. But are you good to go? Makeup’s waiting.”

Sunghoon nodded, though his heart was still heavy. “Yeah. I’m fine- Let’s go.” He closed the script gently, his fingers lingering on the edges. But the lines he read, the emotions they stirred–they clung to him. Even as he stood and walked toward the makeup room, his mind was still back there, stuck between the story of Doyun and Hana, and the echoes of his own.

Maybe this wasn’t just another role. Maybe this movie found him, found him for a reason. Maybe it was time to face the past he left behind.

As Sunghoon stepped into the makeup room, the bustling atmosphere of the studio surrounded him. Makeup artists flitted about, their brushes and palettes busy transforming the actors into their characters. Sunghoon settled into a chair, trying to shake off the lingering emotions from reading the script, but the thoughts of Doyun and Eunjin clung to him like a shadow.

“Just relax, Sunghoon,” one of the makeup artists said, applying foundation to his skin with gentle strokes. He nodded absently, his mind still tangled in the narrative. But then, amidst the hum of conversation and the sounds of the studio, he heard it–a voice drifting through the air, clear and commanding.

“Okay, everyone, let’s go over the scene one more time. I need everyone on the same page!” The voice was familiar, and for a moment, he couldn’t place it. It pulled at his heart, wrapping around him like a memory he couldn’t quite grasp.

“Can we get the lighting adjusted over here, please? And make sure the sound levels are perfect for this scene. I need every detail to be flawless!” The voice was firm yet light, filled with a confidence that stirred something deep within him.

Sunghoon’s breath hitched as he froze. It couldn’t be. It had to be his mind playing tricks on him, right? Maybe the emotional turbulence from reading the script had scrambled his senses. He turned slightly in the chair, straining to hear better, but the voice faded into the cacophony of the studio. He felt a pull, an inexplicable urge to move, to follow the sound that resonated in his chest.

“Sunghoon, could you please face me?” his makeup artist asked, but he couldn’t hear her.

He had to know if it was you—if it was really you. 

“Excuse me, I just need a moment,” he said, surprising even himself as he stood up abruptly, startling the makeup artist. Without waiting for a response, he stepped out of the makeup room, heart pounding in his chest. He could still hear the voice down the corridor, and it felt like a beacon, guiding him.

As he approached the set, he held his breath, his mind racing. He rounded the corner, and there you were—standing with your back to him, surrounded by crew members who listened intently as you went over the details of the upcoming scene. You were as stunning as he remembered, even from behind. Your hair flowed down your back, and your focused stance exuded confidence.

Sunghoon’s heart raced. Was this real? Could it be? He took a cautious step forward, then another, compelled by the desire to see your face. He hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment press heavily on him.

“Y/N?” he called out, his voice shaking with disbelief, uncertainty twisting in his stomach. With shaking hands, he reached out as if to touch your shoulder, but stopped short. He couldn’t bring himself to reach out, not yet. What if he was just imagining this? What if the moment shattered if he dared to touch you?

You turned at the sound at your name, and the world around you fell silent. Your heart raced as your eyes met his. The surprise written across your face mirrored his own—a mixture of shock and disbelief washed over both of you, making the air feel electric.

“Sung- Sunghoon?” you breathed, your voice barely escaping your lips as you took a tentative step forward, your heart pounding in your chest. 

The distance between you both felt both infinite and painfully close. You hadn’t seen him in years, yet here he stood, transformed into a man who chased his dreams and succeeded. The man you once loved, now in front of you as the lead actor in the very film you were directing.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, threatening to spill over. “Is- is this real?”

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The memories of the last time you saw each other flooded back—his departure, the hurt in your eyes, the way you fought to smile through the pain. He left to chase his dreams, and now, standing in front of you, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of that decision pressing on him.

Your lips trembled as you fought to maintain composure. “I never forgot you. I thought… I thought maybe I’d lost you for good, Hoon…” A single tear slipped down your cheek, glimmering under the studio lights.

Sunghoon felt his own emotions surge, the dam he had built around his heart breaking down in an instant. “I didn’t know how to come back,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you every day, Y/N…”

The tears fell freely now, and he wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, struggling to keep himself together. “I was so scared of what I left behind. And now… now here you are.”

You stepped closer, the distance between you disappearing entirely. “It’s like a dream,” you murmured, your voice cracking as you reached up to touch his face. “I never imagined I’d see you like this:”

Sunghoon felt the warmth of your hand against his cheek, grounding him in the moment. “Neither did I,” he said, his own tears flowing as he looked deeply into your eyes, searching for the love that had always been there, waiting patiently through the years. Instinctively, he reached up to hold your hand—the one resting against his cheek. His fingers intertwined with yours, and a wave of warmth washed over him, melting away the uncertainty that had clouded his heart for so long.

In that simple gesture, everything fell into place. The soft touch of your skin ignited memories of all the moments you shared—every laugh, every whispered secret, and every fleeting glance that had left him breathless. It felt like home, like the missing piece he had longed for during the years spent apart.

You looked at him, eyes softening as he held your hand tightly, as if afraid to let go. “Hoon…” you sighed, filled with a mixture of awe and longing.

“I’ve missed this—missed you,” he confessed, his voice trembling. The tears continued to spill down his face, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away anymore. “It feels like I’ve been searching for you in every role, in every city. I never wanted to forget, but I didn’t know how to find my way back…”

You squeezed his hand, your gaze unwavering. “You didn’t forget. Not really. I felt you with me, even when you were so far away, It’s like we were always connected, despite everything.”

As the weight of your shared history hung in the air, he took a step closer, closing the distance between you. With a gentle but deliberate motion, Sunghoon raised his other hand, resting it on the side of your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. He leaned in, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. The world around you faded into a soft blur, and in that intimate space, it felt like time had stopped. The tears had slowed, but the emotions still ran deep, swirling in the space between your shared breaths.

He let out a shaky exhale, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and resolve. “I lost you once,” he whispered, his voice soft but heavy with meaning. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, the intensity of his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “Please… I can’t lose you again.” His voice cracked slightly, but he pushed through, the emotion clear in every syllable. “I love you too much, Y/N.”

The words hit you like a wave, crashing over you with the realisation that he was quoting one of your lines—the very words you had written for Doyun in the script. Hearing them from his lips, directed at you, made everything feel surreal and achingly poetic. You stared into his tear filled eyes, your heart racing, knowing that those words carried a deeper weight now than they ever had on the page.

You had written those lines with love in mind, never expecting them to be spoken back to you by the man who had once been your world. And now, as he stood there, saying them with every ounce of sincerity, it felt like fate had brought your story fully circle.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were different. They weren’t born from heartache but from the overwhelming sense of love that you thought you had lost forever. “Sunghoon…” you whispered, voice trembling as your hand gently caressed his cheek.

He leaned into your touch, eyes never leaving yours, the raw vulnerability between you palpable. “I’ve never stopped loving you, and I’ll never make the mistake of letting you go again,” he continued, his voice stronger this time, his hand squeezing yours. “I was lost without you. I’m done running.”

The world felt quiet, like it was holding its breath for the two of you. And as you stood there, hand in hand, you knew this wasn’t just an ending—it was the beginning of something new, something beautiful. Together.

You leaned in, forehead resting against his once more, and whispered, “You’ll never lose me again. I’m not going anywhere.”

© cerisesheaven — please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, copy, or alter any of my works. thank you angel!

[spadesolace]

leading lady - 1.4. getting the role (of tissue papers) [half written]

previous | next

it was a bit awkward to explain to the nurse how y/n ended up getting a nosebleed and a reddened forehead with a panicking minji. the nurse couldn’t even understand what she was saying as y/n held her by the arm trying to calm her down.

in the small sterile clinic, y/n sat stiffly by the edge of the bed, an ice pack pressed against the bridge of her nose, while her other hand was clutching onto a bloodied handkerchief. her gaze would briefly shift between minji then onto the handkerchief. she had placed a tissue paper on her nose. 

minji stood beside her, gently holding onto another ice pack to her forehead. both would look at the other then quickly look away with one thought in mind ‘this is awkward’.

“i’m sorry.” it was quiet, the awkward tension still lingering between them. “i’m so sorry… i should have been more careful.”

“it’s fine,” her voice was slightly muffled. “accidents happen.”

she shifted slightly, wincing a bit as she looked up at her. her expression softening as minji quickly glances at her then away. ‘cute.’

“you know…” minji looks up, not realizing how close their faces are. y/n wasn’t looking, her gaze fixated on the floor as she adjusted the ice pack on her nose. “i remember you back in high school, kim minji, right?”

“yeah… how do you-“

“funny story.” y/n smiles, gaze still fixed to the floor as she tries to reach for the tissue paper - minji handed it to her. “i had a crush on you back then.”

‘till now actually’ she couldn’t admit that, but at least she’s doing something about this small crush she has had since high school.

minji blinked, holding onto the roll of tissue paper that almost slipped from the sudden revelation that the violet had a crush on her back in high school. 

“me?” she points at herself, as y/n nodded taking the tissue roll, a small fond smile on her face.

“yup, you were and still are so talented when you’re on stage like - you truly shine and i was merely there watching you rehearse that it felt like i was watching someone from broadway perform.”

she smiles, followed by a nervous yet genuine laugh that made y/n look up at her, eyes squinting a bit out of curiosity and confusion.

“sorry, it’s just-“

“that i blurt out a confession?” minji shook her head as she checked on y/n’s forehead, removing the ice pack and seeing that it’s no longer red. only their cheeks with a hint of blush from how bizarre this entire situation is.

“no, but i used to have a crush on you as well, but never really said anything.” y/n choked on her own spit as she looked up at minji, all this time there was something but she just chose not to say anything. clearing her throat as she sits up straight, directly looking at minji as her mind processes the confession.

“what?”

“i mean, you were pretty much popular back then and now-“ minji fixes y/n’s bangs, a fond smile as she looks at the older girl in front of her. a piece of tissue paper on her nose, a bit of dried blood on her upper lip, a shocked expression. “you’re a model, im violet. i’m surprised you had a crush on me.”

y/n couldn’t say anything, her mind filled with questions, what ifs - it's like she’s back in the tech booth admiring minji from afar even if she’s standing right in front of her. she feels something soft on her forehead for a second, the feeling lingering a bit as minji places her hand on top of hers, a gentle squeeze.

“they say kisses heal wounds.” kim minji kissed her forehead. y/n doesn’t understand where the boldness came from but she wants more of it. whatever minji is doing to her, she wants it - ‘fuck.’

“is that your way of making it up to me?” y/n tries to deflect those fleeting feelings that she once believed was gone. it was long buried until she saw her again, kim minji still has her wrapped around her finger.

minji laughs as she sits next to y/n, her hand gently placed on top of hers as she takes in the current state y/n is in. it’s funny, some would assume that y/n got into a fight and this was their way of confessing to each other their undying feelings. 

in reality, minji smacked a door onto y/n’s face.

after a few minutes of silence, y/n laughed, throwing away another bloody tissue paper. minji gave her the roll once more as she soon joined in on the laughter shared between them.

“can we-“ y/n stood up, throwing away all of the bloody tissue papers as she turned around back at minji. “-start over?” 

the younger girl nodded, stretching her hand out for y/n to take.

“hi, i’m kim minji and i’m sorry for smacking your face with a door.” she takes it, smiling as she looks up, her face now clear of any tissue paper shoved up her nose.

“im y/n, and you’re forgiven.” as they both let go, the curtain was then abruptly moved to the side as their respective friends came rushing and panting looking at the pair.

yeji was the first to check up on y/n, holding her by the cheek and moving her head side to side and pulling her down to further inspect any injuries. minji shook her head with a teasing smile as she watched y/n’s friends ask questions and check up on the girl.

“guys, i’m fine.” there’s a bright smile plastered on her face as she quickly glances at minji. “i had a great nurse.”

taglist [CLOSED]:

@awkwardtoafault @justme-idle @1luvkarina @bearyanon @khaepriv @lesleepyyy @yoontoonwhs @sserajeans @pandafuriosa60 @mightymyo @ehcyps @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @haerinsloverr @jisooftme @keiji-jin @greenniee @txtbrainrot @zhivaxo @multiliker @sixflame438

[barcalover86]

Hey idk if you want to, feel free to ignore this request- but can you maybe do a part 2 to the showering after surgery? I rlly loved the fic🫶🏻🫶🏻

Showering after surgery p.2

First part

You tried to forget about your conversation with Gavi from yesterday night.

It's true that you were nervous to see Gavi naked for the first time, but he was Pablo Gavi. Everyone knows that he is beautiful.

He's been an athlete for so long, of course that his body was breath-taking.

But when he suggested that you two shower together, you weren't even nervous anymore. You were just scared.

A lot of what ifs were coming into your mind.

The truth is that you won't be the first girl he saw naked, and the other girls all had model type of body. What if he considers you ugly?

What if he finds you that ugly that he breaks up with you?

You imagined a lot of similar scenes until Gavi finally woke up.

You couldn't sleep all night, and he could see that something had bothered you.

"You okay?"

He seemed truly concerned about your health.

That's it. An idea came into your mind.

"Just a bit sick. I kinda have a headache." you lied.

"I'm sure a bath will help you. Let me get it ready for you-"

Oh shit.

"No, no, it's okay-"

"We had to shower together this morning anyway."

He got up from the bed and walked himself to the bathroom to prepare you the bath.

You've got all anxious by now and tried to find any reason for you not to shower.

"You just showered yesterday night and it wasn't easy for your knee. You'll be in pain, Gavi"

"Anything for my girl."

"Gavi, be for real now."

"What?"

He then suddenly realised. Or he thought that was the reason.

His face immediately got sad, and he stopped.

Now you didn't understand what was going on anymore.

He walked himself back to his room and opened the TV.

"So we won't shower anymore?" you asked surprised and also really confused by his actions.

"Well, you don't seem to want me. That's for sure."

"What!? No, Gavi-"

"No, please. I don't want to argue with you, ok?" he said in a sweet tone.

"Me neither, but it's not what you think."

For some seconds neither of you said anything.

"Ok, get up. We're going to have a bath together." you said while trying to help Pablo getting out of the bed.

"I'm too tired now."

"Gavi!" you shouted. "Please.."

When you were both in the bathroom, you were the first one to get your chlotes off.

You wanted to fasten things up so that he won't get to see you naked that long. You were really embarrassed and shy.

He stopped his movements and then looked at you.

"Y/n, y/n." he then holds you. "Tell me what's bothering you."

He looks into your eyes with so much love and adoration that eventually made you blush.

He smiled seeing your red cheeks and then kissed your lips shortly.

"You know I love you, so tell me."

You try to find the courage to look into his eyes, but you fail, so he helped you while moving your chin up.

"It's just.. you are Pablo Gavi and-"

"Well that's good to know." he starts laughing.

"Please, don't laugh. " he immediately stopped, knowing that this was something serious .

"You are Pablo Gavi and I'm just a normal girl-"

"Which I love with all my heart.." he continued.

"That's so sweet of you, but please don't stop me, otherwise I won't tell you."

He nodded, clearly understanding.

"You are Pablo Gavi, and I'm just a normal girl, and you've been with so many other beautiful women and I'm really really shy and scared that you won't like my body that much and that you will judge me."

He wanted so bad to interrupt you, but he knew that you had to take it all out of your heart.

So you continued.

"And I don't wanna sound dramatic or something, but even yesterday when I saw you all in front of me, I just couldn't realise that you chose me out of all those gorgeous girls. Because you are so, so beautiful. "

He started to tear up and hugged you tight.

"Bebé.."

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" you asked him.

He then took off all your chlotes and smiled.

"You are more than beautiful."

From your face, he knew that you didn't believe him so when he undressed himself too, you got into the hot water together.

He was holding you in front of him.

"I've been with many girls, that's true. But no one felt like you. You aren't just beautiful, you are sweet and kind and a really nice company. I chose you because I love you. Your body fits perfectly with mine." he kissed your left cheek. "You are the one that is now with me at my worst. Not them. You are the one who takes care of me. Not them."

You kissed his lips lovely, before helping him shower again, because the boy was in a lot of pain because of his knee.

After you were done with him, he helped you wash your hair, massaging it.

Everything felt so good.

"Do you still have that headache?"

He laughed, knowing that you lied.

You showed him your tongue and smiled at him.

"I love you" you said, hugging him tight from behind. "And I'll make your recovery easier. I promise."

"I know you will."

[heavensentbabe]

𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝚅𝙸𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽 💭💭

What I like about loassumption, is that you don't have to dwell on potential outcomes as 'what ifs' or 'what could've been'. You can revise, you can just embody a new state of having fulfilled whatever it is you wanted in the past. If you apply, and quit complaining about the old story, you'll find this liberating.

1. The old story doesn't exist anymore, you're completely removed from it. If it comes back to you in thoughts, correct it with the new story.

2. Don't worry, you're not practicing perfection. It's alright if you fall out of the new state and back into the old story again; you can spiral. Please allow yourself the space to make mistakes, allow yourself to be human. As long as you pick yourself up again.

3. As long as you keep consistently coming back to the new story, and stick with it, you're doing well. Wake up thinking from it, sleep thinking from it. Even the gap between morning and night, you're coming back to the state.

4. Relish in that new state, the same way you've always dwelled in negative states in the past. Marinade in the fact that you have all it is that you want, and you've already manifested it — creation is done!

5. Persist, persist, persist. So long as you don't allow the old story to be dominant anymore!

You're to be fully saturated with the new story. Whatever the hell you want, you have it. And that includes new memories, too. Revision can affect any tense. You can use it to continue a new current story, or change the story of past events.

ᴱˣᵃᵐᵖˡᵉˢ

• Don't like how that TV show ended? Revise it from the very first episode, to the details you didn't want. It ended exactly how you wanted it to end. It had the narrative you wanted it to have and everything about it is perfect now. Wow you're so powerful that you changed past events of a well known fictional series? Congratulations for using your god powerful abilities.

• You're anxious about the grades you'll get once the results come out? Revise your state; 'no I'm excited to get my grades because I know I did so well because I've always done well.' Of course you did well, of course you got distinctions. You always got distinctions. Your worst mark is an 80 % .

• You felt like your hair hasn't been healthy/ growing for years? Revise it. Your hair has always been healthy. You only have memories of people complimenting your hair.

• You're not comfortable in your body shape/appearance? Revise it. You were always meant to look the way that made you comfortable. Right now, you're so comfortable in your body and skin. You feel so content in your desired body, you look exactly the way that you feel about yourself now. Everything is perfect!

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘗𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐𝘵 𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘋𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘺

At the end of the day, think from when you woke in the morning. Where did you wake up? How did you wake up looking like? Is there a desired person beside you? Did you wake up in your desired mansion? What is your daily routine of your desired lifestyle? Did you go to your desired job?

You don't have to be that detailed about your daily revisions. As long as everyday you're living the life you wanted. You can revise in any technique. Visualizing how the day went, journaling it — writing it down in your diary, voice recording how your day went etc.

Please utilize it, it's so perfect if you have an issue with constantly embodying states or if you may have shitty days! And you don't just revise by the end of the days, you can revise on the spot!!

For example, let's say you're out & about and you're driving/walking passed advertising boards. And you're living in the end as a fashion model!

Well, those boards you passed by had your face in them. You saw your face there and oh my god you're so famous because it's at least twelve boards you spotted your face in!

It can be really as simple as scrolling through your phone, and revising that every social platform you go to, you see people using your face as their avi.

Revision can be used in so many ways, don't waste it.

[ofallthingsnasty]

Crocodile takes his fat basement wife shopping for clothes and is disappointed and irritated that none of the stores have anything in her size

Cue custom made wardrobe where everything fits her perfectly (that is the dream)

Or maybe he gives her a bunch of magazine catalogues and tells her to list down what outfits she likes. And his poor soggy wife obeys but thinks the whole time “this is cute but it won’t fit me” or “I’d be too scared to wear this in public but I’d like to imagine it”

She doesn’t think much of it but a few weeks later every single item is in her wardrobe and to her size (with a few outfits that he wants her in thrown in)

Oh goodness, stop, that's too cute. Are you trying to kill me? 😭 I can see him taking you shopping and getting furious when they don’t have anything in your size, like what kind of retailer is this supposed to be? Ridiculous  - but that would happen if he were normal about you. And he really isn’t, haha. When it comes to Crocodile, basement really means basement - you’re a liability, a weakness. Not something other people need to know about.

tw.yandere, fem + fat reader, basement wivery

He practically slaps those catalogues down and says that you can get the whole thing if you so wish - but pick something, storms off and doesn’t even wait for an answer. It’s a treat, a reward - and those are rare coming from him, especially when it concerns your appearance. You have very little say in what clothes he puts you in, everything down to your socks is picked out for you. It’s important to him that you two match, even if no one except for him (and occasionally Ms. All Sunday) gets to see you. It’s all about his ego and entertainment and power. So you being allowed to pick out something you like? You must have been on exceptionally good behavior for that to happen. It’s just a shame that the models in the magazines don’t look like you at all, even if they have the clothes in your size. You feel more and more tense the longer you skim through the little booklets - nervous because you’re sure nothing is going to fit you well enough and anxious to voice those same concerns to him. He’ll just call you ungrateful and rip the catalogues from your hands again, maybe even punish you for being so selfish and spoiled, and that’s the last thing you want. You’re almost back to crying when you’re done building a million what-ifs and scenarios in your mind, it’s that overwhelming. It’s hard not to feel rushed between him waiting on you to drop the papers back into his lap and being insecure about your body. When you finally swallow down that big lump in your throat and simply circle some of the things you think are safe bets, he’s already impatiently chewing his cigar at his desk. So when he makes a grand show of presenting with your picks some weeks later, you’re going to be more than surprised to find some more… risqué pieces among them, things you definitely didn’t mark. And no matter how much your ears burn or how shaky you get, he’ll have you model every single item. He doesn’t care that you’re embarrassed, he gave you a gift. And you better honor that - not only by showing him just how snug some pieces are, but also by giving him a nice and proper thank you. See, he’s generous - you don’t have to ride him for it (although he certainly wouldn’t say no to that), some words of gratitude and a kiss on the cheek are enough.  

Play pretend with him, even for a little while, let him be your husband and he can be so, so good to you.