#it like. deeply hurts and I don’t know why

[starkeyslibrary]

FALLING OUT OF FRAME | Part 6

pairing: you x drew starkey

The basket Drew had left sat on your kitchen counter for days, untouched yet impossible to ignore. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate the effort – it was thoughtful in a way that was undeniably Drew. But thought wasn’t enough to undo the pain he had caused, the cracks he had let deepen in your relationship.

Each item in the basket carried a piece of him. The chocolate he knew you always reached for during movie nights, the candle that smelled like home, it all lingered in your mind. It was an apology in material form, but you weren’t sure if it was a beginning or a goodbye.

Your friends, of course, had opinions.

Madelyn was the most vocal. “He’s trying, Y/N. I’m not saying you should forgive him, but it’s clear he’s not ready to let you go.”

Madison countered, “Trying isn’t the same as fixing. He’s still in that PR nightmare with Odessa, isn’t he? Until he proves he’s willing to cut ties with all of that, he’s just making noise.”

Carlacia chimed in, her voice softer. “You don’t own him anything, but it’s okay to admit you still care. Just... don’t lose yourself in the process.”

They were all right in their own way, but the decision ultimately rested with you.

Meanwhile, Drew was fighting his own battles. The guild had been eating away at him for weeks, worsened by your silence. He couldn’t stand the idea of you believing you weren’t his priority, especially when that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

One evening, Drew found himself pacing the living room of his apartment, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. After hesitating for what felt like hours, he finally dialed Odessa’s number.

“Drew?” Odessa answered, her voice laced with mild surprise. “What’s up?”

“We need to end this,” Drew said, cutting  straight to the point. His tone was steady, but the weight of his words made his heart pound.

Odessa paused for a moment before responding. “I’ve been thinking the same thing, honestly. This whole thing has run its course.”

“Yeah,” Drew agreed, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t keep this up anymore. It’s not fair to anyone – least of all Y/N.”

“I get it,” Odessa said, her tone softening. “I’ve always understood why you agreed to this, Drew, but if it’s not helping you, we shouldn’t drag it out.”

They set up a meeting with their teams the next day. The conference room buzzed with tension as Drew and Odessa sat across from their publicists and managers.

“This has gone on long enough,” Drew said, his voice firm. “Odessa and I are friends, and that’s all we’ve ever been. I’m not pretending otherwise anymore.”

One of the publicist frowned. “Ending it abruptly could cause speculation. We need to control the narrative.”

“That’s fine,” Drew replied, leaning forward. “But I am done with this. Frame it however you want – but I’m not dragging this out any longer.”

After some back-and-forth, their teams reluctantly agreed. The plan was to address it subtly during the press tour for Hellraiser, allowing Drew and Odessa to set the record straight without drawing unnecessary attention.

Later that evening, Drew found himself on Madelyn’s doorstep, clutching two coffees and wearing the expression of a man on the verge of unravelling.

“Hey,” he said, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Do you have a minute?”

Madelyn stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. She took the coffee he offered, setting it on the counter as they settled onto her couch. Her expression was equal parts concern and disappointment.

“What’s up, Drew?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I need your advice. Or... maybe just a reality check.”

Madelyn raised an eyebrow, “About Y/N?”

He nodded, exhaling deeply. “I’ve screwed up. Worse than I ever thought I could. And I don’t know if I can fix it, but I have to try.”

Madelyn leaned back, arms crossed. “You hurt her, Drew. A lot. You put your career and a fake relationship ahead of someone who loved you, someone who trusted you. Do you realize how much damage that kind of betrayal does?”

“I do,” he said quietly, his voice cracking. “Every time I think about her.. about those pictures of her crying, about the way she looked at me the last time we talked – it kills me. I hate myself for what I did, Maddie. I hate that I let her down.”

Madelyn softened slightly, seeing the genuine regret in his eyes. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

“I’ve already ended the PR thing with Odessa. We’re addressing it in the interview next week, and I’m making sure it’s clear we were never anything more than friends. But beyond that, I don’t know how to prove to Y/N that I’m serious about making things right. I don’t even know if she’ll ever give me the chance.”

Madelyn studied him for a long moment. “You can’t just tell her you’ve changed, Drew. You have to show her. And not with some grand romantic gesture, either. She needs to see that you’ve done the work, that you’re willing to put her first and take responsibility for your choices.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m here. You know her better than almost everyone. What can I do to show her I’m not the same selfish idiot I was?”

Madelyn’s expression softened further, and she sighed. “Start small. Respect her space. Listen when she talks – really listen. And if she gives you even the smallest opening, don’t blow it by making it about you. This isn’t about winning her back, Drew. It’s about proving you deserve to be in her life at all.”

Drew nodded, absorbing her words. “Thank you,” he said.

Madelyn smiled faintly. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got a long way to go, Starkey. But if anyone can convince her you’ve changed, it’s you.”

A few weeks later, during an interview for the movie, Drew seized the moment.

The camera lights softened the sharp edges of the studio, casting a warm glow over the set. Drew adjusted his position on the couch, his body slightly angled toward Odessa. The interviewer, a charismatic host with a talent for digging just deep enough, smiled as she glanced between the two.

“So, Drew, Odessa,” she began, her tone light and conversational, “it’s no secret that the media has been buzzing about you two for months now. Fans have been speculating nonstop—are you just friends, or is there something more?”

Drew leaned forward slightly, his expression calm but serious. “We’ve always been friends,” he said, his voice steady. “Good friends. That’s all it’s ever been.”

Odessa nodded, her smile bright but not forced. “The rumors took on a life of their own,” she added, crossing her legs elegantly. “But, honestly, we’re both so focused on work right now. There’s no space for anything else.”

The interviewer’s eyebrow quirked, clearly intrigued. “Well, that clears up one mystery. But Drew, if I can be bold for a moment… You’ve been a bit of an mystery when it comes to your personal life. Is there anyone in your heart right now?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, and Drew’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly. Odessa glanced at him, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face, but she didn’t say anything. This was his moment.

Drew’s lips parted, then closed again as he searched for the right words. Finally, he exhaled, his gaze dropping for just a moment before meeting the interviewer’s eyes. “There is,” he admitted softly, his voice thick with emotion. “There’s someone I care about—a lot. And I know I’ve messed up… probably more than I can ever make up for. But I’m trying. I’m trying to be the kind of person who deserves a second chance.”

The interviewer blinked, clearly surprised by his candidness. “That’s… quite an admission. Does this person know how you feel?”

“I hope so,” Drew said, a small, rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I think they do. But whether or not they believe it… That’s something I have to earn.”

The room fell quiet for a beat, the vulnerability in his words leaving a palpable shift in the atmosphere. Odessa glanced at him again, this time with a faint smile, as if silently acknowledging the weight of what he’d just said.

“Well,” the interviewer said, her tone softer now, “it sounds like you’re on quite the journey. I’m sure your fans will be rooting for you.”

“Thanks,” Drew replied, his smile faint but genuine. “I’m rooting for it, too.” The interviewer smiled, and the conversation shifted to the movie. But Drew knew the real work was only just beginning.

A few days after Drew’s interview aired, you were scrolling on your phone when a text from Madelyn popped up:

Madelyn: "Have you seen the Hellraiser interview yet?"

You frowned, your thumbs moving quickly across the screen. You: "No. Why?"

Instead of replying, Madelyn called you, her name lighting up your phone.

“You need to watch it,” she said the moment you answered, her tone softer than usual.

“Why? What happened?”

“It’s not just about the PR thing with Odessa,” Madelyn explained, her voice hesitant but steady. “He said something. About you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Look, just watch it. I sent you the clip.”

The call ended, leaving you staring at the notification for a long moment before finally opening it. The video started with the expected back-and-forth—the host’s questions about the rumors, Drew and Odessa’s calm explanations about their friendship. But then, the interviewer’s tone shifted, her next question sharper, more personal.

“Drew, is there anyone else in your heart right now?”

You held your breath as the camera focused on Drew, the momentary flicker of surprise in his expression giving way to something rawer.

“There is,” he admitted softly. “There’s someone I care about—a lot. And I know I’ve made mistakes. Huge ones. But I’ve been working to fix them, not just for them but for myself. Because they deserve better. And if there’s even the slightest chance I can show them I’ve changed… I’ll keep trying for as long as it takes.”

Your chest tightened as the clip ended, Drew’s voice lingering in your mind like a melody you couldn’t shake.

You called Madelyn back, her voice chiming in almost immediately. “Well?” she asked.

“What’s this supposed to mean to me?” you demanded, your tone more defensive than you’d intended.

Madelyn didn’t miss a beat. “It means he’s not hiding anymore. He’s not brushing anything under the rug or running away. He’s putting himself out there, Y/N, and that’s not easy for him. He’s been serious about this—about you—for a while now.”

Your grip on the phone tightened. “Did he… talk to you about me?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice softening. “He told me how much he regrets what he did, how much he misses you. And honestly? I’ve never seen him like this. He’s not just saying things to say them. He’s doing the work, Y/N.”

You sat silently for a moment, your emotions a tangle of confusion, doubt, and something else you weren’t ready to name.

“What did you tell him?” you finally asked.

Madelyn hesitated, her words deliberate. “That he has a long way to go. But I also told him that if he’s willing to keep proving it, maybe—just maybe—you’d see it too.”

Your chest ached, and for the first time, you felt the faintest crack in the walls you’d built around your heart.

In the days that followed, Drew didn’t push or pry, but his actions spoke volumes. He left thoughtful gestures without expectation: a cup of your favorite coffee on a particularly hectic morning, a playlist curated with songs that felt like memories, a first-edition copy of a book you’d mentioned in passing months ago.

They weren’t grand, sweeping moves designed to win you back—they were quiet, intimate reminders of the way he’d always paid attention.

Each gesture chipped away at your doubts, leaving you questioning not just him but the feelings you were trying so hard to bury.

One evening, weeks after the interview, you found yourself on your balcony, the playlist he’d made played softly in the background.

As the song ended, your phone buzzed. It was a text from Drew:

“I know I’ve said it a hundred times, but I’m sorry. I’ll keep saying it until it’s true for you. If you ever want to talk, I’m here. No pressure, no expectations – just me.”

For the first time, you didn’t feel the immediate urge to push him away. Instead, you typed out a reply.

“Maybe it is time we talked.”

Drew’s response was immediate.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

And for the first time in months, you felt a glimmer of possibility – not just for Drew, but for yourself.

TAGLIST: @princesspeach124 @idiotussupremus @eitaababe @13tter @drewsephrry @drewstarkeyzwhore @cooper8224 @maybankslover @elyseesarchive @ietss @esquivelbianca @josephandrewstarkey @willowpains @wtfdudesblog @purplerose291 @rafegf-real @matthewswifeyy @fangirl-magic @snowtargaryen @slut-era @leather-n-velvet

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: i want to thank @lfdybadgirlsdiw again, bc she sent in a small request that mentioned 'former lovers that keep going back to each other, even if they are seeing other people' which then sparked this whole story into existence 🖤 i also want to sincerely apologise to all the girls that have reached out and taught me that none of us lead unique lives (which in this case is terrible, but also, really comforting) thank you for reading! i hope you enjoy this last part, and i'd love to hear your thoughts!

Wordcount: 7.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The world felt muted. Dull, and empty. Deeply hollow, and completely void of colour.

There was only so much shit a person could take before enough was enough, and finally, after accepting the bare minimum from Joe for far too long, you decided you no longer wanted it.

The sky hung heavy, and the beginnings of what would eventually feel like an endless winter promised to keep the mood low and bleak for the rest of the season. There was an under-skin discomfort only the passing of time was going to be able to shed.

You broke up with Joe.

It fucking sucked. There was confusion, and deep hurt. Anger. Defeat.

And yet, you felt weirdly proud of yourself.

“It’d be better for you to leave him.” Emily had told you time and time again. Finally, you’d listened. You knew she was going to be so proud, which gave a small sense of relief.

Everything else felt bleak, though. Like time had stopped on the moment of impact. Hands of the clock frozen in time, forever showing the point at which it truly landed for Joe.

Joe hadn’t felt like this for a long time. Didn’t know if he had ever felt like this before, if he was honest. There was a difficulty in processing the shock, in accepting there was even a shock to begin with, but he knew you were right. It was why he couldn’t stop saying it.

“Don’t feel bad, you’re right. You’re right.”

It felt wrong to be right, and you didn’t want to be right ever again if this is what it’d be like.

The little sliver of pride inside of you wasn’t getting the attention it deserved in the moment, but that was okay. You’d get to it later. And maybe, one day, Joe would too.

“Will you,” Joe broke the silence, voice hoarse and throat in pain. He cleared it, which didn’t help much, and hopefully finished, “Will you stay the night?”

You’d been sat in the quiet dark for quite a while, just listening to each other breathe. It started with Joe perched on the very edge of his sofa, leg shaking as he tried to come to terms with what you were saying.

You’d sat down next to him then, and he’d immediately pulled you close, hands gripping and trying their best to hold onto whatever there was for him to hold onto still.

Just was a shame there wasn’t much left for him to grasp.

“I don’t think I should.”

You wanted to.

Badly.

But you genuinely didn’t think that would be a good idea.

You felt how Joe shifted a little, arms moving to wrap you up differently from how they had been. He was unsure of how to hold you, but tried his best to find a way that made you want to stay.

“Yea. No… you’re right. You probably shouldn’t…”

If you weren’t absolutely determined, the soft brokenness of Joe’s voice would’ve made you give in instantly.

“But will you?” Joe tried again.

“Joe…”

“I know, I know, please, don’t…” Joe faltered. There were a lot of things Joe didn’t want you to do. Please don’t say it. Please don’t repeat yourself.

Please don’t leave.

There was a stillness that had taken over the room - the world - when Joe realised that you weren’t joking. A stillness where even the wind outside hesitated to stir. You weren’t saying shit just to get a reaction out of him. You weren’t trying to get him to say words you wanted him to say. You’d been serious from the second you’d walked into Joe’s flat, and Joe felt stupid how he had just… immediately dismissed you. How he hadn’t even really listened as you spoke to him.

It had been a few days since you’d seen each other, and you’d secretly been collecting and saving bravery. You’d avoided Joe for a few days whilst you kept busy, storing all the courage you could find in a secret spot inside of your body, waiting for it to be enough to drive you into just fucking saying it already.

Joe hadn’t questioned the stupid excuses you’d come up with to not see him a couple of nights in a row. Hadn’t questioned it at all, didn’t seem to really care about it either, which only added to your valour. To the ‘he doesn’t even give a shit’ narrative that you needed to believe with your full heart, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have decided to spontaneously text him, “on my way over” before flying out the door.

If you could stop your hands from shaking, that’d be great, but you were going to do this. You were going to ride this wave of determination, without or with a shaking body.

When you stepped into Joe’s flat, sick with nerves and heavy tension, Joe was hunched over a messy open drawer of a side cupboard.

“Have you seen my earphones? Wired ones?” he rummaged through with both hands.

No hi. No hello. No I’ve not seen you in days, come here, let me kiss you silly.

Have you seen my earphones.

The real important stuff.

“My wireless ones, the left bud has stopped charging itself…”

And you knew exactly where Joe’s wired earphones were.

For a second, you debated giving in. Debated using this as your out. Debated smiling, rolling your eyes all fondly, being the helpful girl Joe needed in this moment. It was tempting to forcibly forget about the one sentence you’d repeated inside of your mind over and over and over again since you’d walked out your door.

Fingers rubbed over the hems of your sleeves as you stood in the doorway still, and you felt where you’d rubbed literal holes into the fabric. 

“Pay a fucking fortune for nice ones and still, it’s the same bullshit, nice or not, it’s…” Joe finally turned his head to look at you when you remained silent. He watched you for a second before he stood up straight.

“Hey… you okay?” he frowned, hands fiddling with whatever junk he’d found instead of what he was looking for.

“I don’t… I don’t think I’m very happy anymore…”

There.

The words were out.

You’d said them, and even though you’d expected the world to maybe crack open and for everything to immediately go to absolute shit... nothing happened.

But you’d said the words, and the tiniest littlest speck of gratification popped up inside of your chest.

You had to actively remember how to breathe, but if you’d leave right now, at least you had said those words.

“All right,” Joe frowned a little, and cast his eyes back down to whatever his hands were doing. “What needs changing then? You can turn the heating up, if you want.”

Joe’s casual dismissal felt sharp as a blade, severing any hope of fixing this. Of saving it. It was completely mismatched to how tense you felt.

“No, I’m not…” you felt your knees shake as Joe continued rummaging. Suddenly, you were way more nervous to say those exact same words once again. “I’m not happy. Anymore.” You had to swallow straight after, mouth dry, tongue thick.

“All right,” Joe made an annoyed face at a random electrical wire he found, and continued, “So what needs changing then?”

His slight annoyance fed everything bad inside. Joe was unknowingly coaxing you into the exact right headspace for what needed doing.

“This.”

Joe still wasn’t looking at you.

“This what?”

Part of you wanted to show your frustration. The anger. Wanted to clench your fists and exhale roughly through flared nostrils to show him, to make him see. You wish you wanted to raise your voice and fight. But the unrelenting defeat of the moment rooted itself deeper inside of your body. The lack of care coming from Joe, the attention he wasn’t giving you, the dismissal of what you’d just told him, because his wired earphones were obviously so much more important than you were... it all combined into nothing more than a simple shrug.

You remained calm, protectively flat, and just… shrugged.

“This.”

You repeated yourself once more, and when Joe didn’t even seem to properly hear you, you looked at the open door that lead to the hallway which had his bedroom at the end of it.

You knew where Joe’s wired earphones were.

What followed were slow and measured footsteps that carried you over into Joe’s bedroom where you found the wired earphones in one of his bedside tables before you slowly made your way back over to him.

With a soft hand, you reached for one of his and held it in yours, palm up, to place the earphones into.

“Oh! Where did you find–”

“I think I need to stop thinking that things are going to ever be different…”

You looked Joe in the eye, and it was like he only then noticed what he was looking at. Like the earphones being found closed a chapter, and now there was attention for you and, oh, you didn’t look very happy.

“It’s never going to be different… is it?”

You looked very sad, actually.

Sort of drained of life.

Really tired.

“Hey, are you all right?” Joe discarded his earphones to the side and grabbed hold of one of your elbows, pulling you a little closer.

“Things aren’t going to ever be different, are they?”

You saw how Joe copied the knit of your eyebrows, face going from a little confused to very suddenly filled with deep worry.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“Like, with us. This.” You stepped back, just slightly, creating distance.

“Are you… are you being serious right now?” And Joe stepped forward, moving right along with you to close that distance again.

“I think...” you sighed, eyes closed but back straight and chin up. Strong. “I think I need a change.”

“Baby… a change like what? What are you talking about?”

One of Joe’s hands cupped your cheek, thumb pushing underneath your jaw, taking the weight of your whole head as he tipped your head just right for eye-contact.

“Joe, I’m not… this isn’t what I want.”

“Me?”

No.

“Us.”

“Oh…”

Joe’s eyes moved between yours, searching for the slightest little bit of softness you still had for him.

He found it easily.

“I’m sorry.”

But he hadn’t expected the compassion there to be sympathy and pity for the situation you were placing Joe into.

At first, there’d been a surge of angry confusion. Of Joe stepping back and jokingly accusing you of being daft. Of telling you that your heart had frozen over because he probably hadn’t turned the heating up high enough. He asked if you’d eaten. If maybe you’d been drinking. Anything to make sense of what was going on, of why you’d walked into his flat on a random evening to tell him things he didn’t want to hear.

Then, there’d been yelling. Hurried large steps got paced around his living room, his arms flying about in unrestrained wild gestures. “You keep referring to past mistakes! You always say you forgive and forget, but you’re not forgetting shit!”, “Have you been hanging out– did you just come straight over from Emily? Has she been planting shit into your brain that you– you can’t actually be fucking serious right now!”, “God, this is so fucking annoying! You’re being annoying!”, “Are you sure this is what you want to do? The worst. Just the fucking worst!”. Joe’s voice went up as he screamed, cracking when he got too passionate, and you wished that had been new information to you.

Eventually, there’d been a weird composed faux acceptance that felt like a manipulative tranquility that Joe adapted to simply show you that you didn’t actually want what you were asking for. A childish, ‘Fine, I’ll give you what you want, see how it sucks?!’ just to prove to you that you were wrong.

When you didn’t budge, and it all finally really landed, everything changed.

Joe turned soft.

Went from frantic movements to suddenly sighing the deepest sigh he’d ever sighed to slowly making his way over to you, hesitating slightly when moving in to hug you, but then going for a full both-arm-tight-wrap-up when you didn’t flinch away.

After about a minute of tightly embracing, you heard Joe sniff close to your ear, and you realised he was crying.

“Joe, I’m sorry, I–”

“No, no.” Joe pulled back, used his sleeve to quickly wipe at his face before going, “No, look at me. Look. You’re right. I’m the one- no, look. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t– you’re right, you’re…” Joe moved both his hands into his hair, a flash of panic, and had to take a few steps as he inhaled deeply.

“You’re not annoying.”

You saw how his jaw clenched. How he rapidly blinked to keep further tears at bay.

“I don’t know why…” Joe started, sitting down on the edge of his sofa as he rubbed a hand across his face. “It just… it never even occurred to me that you had the option to… to go anywhere. But you’re right.”

You didn’t care about being right. It didn’t feel nice to be right about something so devastating.

Looking at Joe, broken boy unsure of where to steer his thoughts and his emotions, you knew this wasn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t what you’d envisioned for the both of you. But, to be fair, almost nothing about what you’d become together had come about because you’d envisioned it that way.

You moved to sit down next to Joe and got immediately taken a hold of.

“Will you stay the night?”

“I don’t think I should.”

“Yea. No… you’re right. You probably shouldn’t... but, will you?”

“Joe…” you couldn’t tell him you would. Couldn’t reply with the ‘I will’ he wanted from you.

“I know, I know, please... don’t…”

If you weren’t going to stay the night, at least Joe would have this. Long quiet minutes, sat on his sofa together. Touching. Staring into nothingness. The longer he could keep you there, the better.

He found new ways to hug.

Different ways to hold.

Arms moved, swiped, squeezed and felt, mapping your every inch in a desperate bid to remember.

Joe took hold of the back of your neck in the exact way he knew you liked, thumb pressing into the dip at the base of your skull, rubbing small circles there.

And you gave him that.

Gave him this moment, frozen in time, just before you’d eventually walk out without plans of ever returning.

“You do know,” Joe started off, voice barely there in a whisper, words pressed into the skin just behind your ear. “You know that I really do love you, don’t you?”

And the world shattered.

The first real and sincere I love you that you’d ever gotten from him.

That wasn’t meant to hurt like it did.

“You know that right?”

All you could do was give a small nod that Joe felt with his face as you fought with all of your being to not burst into tears.

“I love you.”

The cruelest goodbye present you hadn’t asked for, thrusted into your lap at the worst possible time, and you had no other choice than to just simply accept it.

“Yea... love you, too.”

You can see him in the reflection of the window that the treadmills are aimed at, leisurely strolling into your line of sight. Towel over his shoulder, wearing his grey hoodie, wired earphones already in his ears, and eyes on his phone as he seems to sort through a playlist.

It’s been a day.

One single day.

One day since you’d woken up on his sofa.

One day since you’d said yes to a morning coffee that you probably shouldn’t have said yes to.

One day since you’d called the guy in your flat and had to explain why you’d left him in your bed on his own in the middle of the night.

One day since Joe sat across the table from you, coffee in hand, and listened to you stutter through vague excuses.

One day since you’d groaned at yourself for being so fucking stupid, and asked Joe, “What the fuck are we doing...”

One day since he’d shrugged and regretfully told you he wished he had an answer to that question.

To all of your questions, for that matter.

Joe showing up to your gym isn’t coincidental. It simply can’t be. It makes no sense for Joe to go to the gym that’s right around the corner from your flat.

There’s also no way he hasn’t seen you.

There’s not a chance he doesn’t know you’re here.

This is what Joe does, what he did just a short while ago, and he goes about it in almost the exact same way.

His slow pace gives him away.

The fact that he stops just as he has passed you, giving the free treadmill next to yours a quick glance as if he’s only just decided, yea I can do a bit of cardio here, why not, gives him away.

The moment his fucking awful purple pumas touch the machine next to you, you stop looking at him in the reflection. Eyes straight ahead. You keep them firmly trained on yourself instead, and keep a steady pace.

Yea. You hate the gym.

But you’re here to work out, and work out only.

Not to socialise.

Not to potentially run into someone.

Not to prove to someone, to anyone, that you’re a person that goes to the gym now.

No.

You’re there to work out. Guilt has been slowly eating at you until the anxiety of it all, the extreme criticism aimed at yourself, became too much and physical exercise seemed like the only healthy way out.

The only healthy way through.

You’re working out to feel better about yourself, about the choices that you’ve made, and you fucking hate every single second of it. But, you’re only about halfway through what you’d set out to do, and the plan is to fucking finish it. To do the full routine, no ifs ands or buts.

From your peripheral vision, you can see how Joe turns the machine on and how he throws the screen of yours an obvious glance.

Then, he sets the speed to just a little faster than yours.

Idiot.

For a little while it’s easy to ignore him. Makes sense, since you’ve gotten a lot of practice over the years. You could look right through him if you wanted to, face blank, eyes all hollow. Sometimes that was just what he deserved, and you remember how it always felt shockingly good to push his buttons by simply pretending he wasn’t there.

You’re an expert in driving this man insane.

But driving him insane isn’t the end goal here – instead it’s trying to hold yourself together, to harden yourself just enough, to not let him drive you insane.

So you ignore him.

Focus on your breathing. The whirring of the treadmill. The miles you’ve already run. How may more you have to go. Your own heartrate. The position of your feet.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Breathe in, in.

Breathe out, out.

God, you fucking hate running, but there’s something that itches you about the fact that Joe put the speed of his treadmill a half mile per hour faster than yours.

And it’s not a fair race – which is what this fucking is now: a race – because he’s just wandered in and you’ve been going for a while already.

But maybe that’s actually good.

This guy’s not warmed up. Just got on the treadmill and started bolting.

Idiot.

It doesn’t take long for Joe’s breathing to pick up. For it to become audible to you, and you know he’s not going to be able to keep this up much longer. 

Just when you think Joe’s going to reach over and lower the speed of his treadmill, you decide to double down on this inevitable win and press the plus button twice.

Twice.

And fuck, you immediately regret it. The burn in your legs is merciless. An unforgiving persistent ache, yet the burn in your lungs is worse.

In, in. Out, out. In, in. Out, out.

Some of the sweat that’s dripping down your face gets stopped by your eyebrows, yet some also gets past and goes straight into your eyes, but fuck off, you’re winning.

You can do this.

You can pretend you just wanted to run extra fast for a minute. Maybe two.

Four minutes.

You manage four minutes before your start getting scared your legs are going to turn into actual jelly. For fear of tripping over your own feet and launching yourself backwards across the gym floor, you have to slow it down.

The second you do, Joe does as well.

It feels like your lungs have forgotten how to absorb oxygen, but you’re walking, and it’s fine. You did slow down your treadmill before Joe did, but you ran faster than him and, all together, ran for much longer, so it’s a win.

You’ve won.

You’ll die on this hill– you won and Joe lost and he is a loser.

There’s another moment where you can see Joe glance over, and even though you’re both at a walking pace, he still goes to adjust his speed so it’s higher than yours. Then, he removes his earphones.

Time to acknowledge his presence.

“You don’t go to this gym.” You manage to say before Joe gets a chance to get a word in.

Shit, you’re panting.

“I don’t?” But so is Joe. “Weird place for me to be then.”

You give him a look.

“Why are you here?”

Joe pulls a face he always pulls when he’s about to make a joke. It’s a stern face that’s hiding a smile so well, it just looks like he’s a frowning asshole.

“Hmm. Why... am I here?” he repeats seriously, pensive, like the answer escapes him. Then he looks around and uses an arm to showcase the gym he’s in, like it’s obvious he’s there to work out. It makes you feel like he’s making fun of you, which immediately stirs up animosity inside you.

“Well,” you start collecting your things. Towel, water bottle, phone. “Good luck. Get swole, or whatever.”

And you’re off.

“I’ll see you for a coffee, after!” Joe calls after you, and when you turn your head, you see him smirk as he wipes his towel across his forehead.

“No thanks!” you make yourself sound as polite and upbeat as you can whilst turning him down.

Joe watches you walk away, past some of the rowing machines, and he sees how other guys glance a look at you.

He doesn’t blame them.

If he’s honest, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing here, just that he wants to be near you. If that means going over to yours unannounced just to see you cross the street and enter the gym, rushing back home to get his own kit and making his way back over to get a guest pass, and then super casually accidentally ending up on a treadmill next to you, well, then... that’s what he’ll do.

Joe doesn’t know what he’s doing.

What you’re doing.

Why he’s been excited every time he’s seen you over the past couple of months. Why he’s been sad every time you parted ways again.

He doesn’t know why you keep coming back after you ended it all, but what he does know is that it must mean that it’s not over.

Not fully.

There’s a door there, still open enough for him to squeeze through, and yesterday, he realised he would actually rather hurt himself whilst struggling to get through your door, than pick any of the other doors that girls are holding wide open for him.

Joe watches you make your way over to the weight machines and you decide to pretend Joe’s not really there. Decide to pretend that there’s not something dangerously delightful about seeing Joe all sweaty and out of breath.

You get on with your work out routine.

Do the leg press for a bit. Some leg curls. Some extensions.

Nothing for the arms.

You have no upper body strength, and Joe’s watching. You’re very much doing your best to pretend he’s not there, but, you still find yourself secretly checking if you’re being watched.

And you are.

You ignore the furious blush on your cheeks and tell yourself it’s just because your exercising. The heat you feel in your face is just there because you’re moving. S’got nothing to do with Joe, who’s in your peripheral vision the whole time.

He’s strategically moving across the gym floor, standing in front of mirrors that reflect the best views of you, and yea, sure, he’s holding weights in both his hands, but he’s not really doing much, is he? He’ll curl an arm up every couple of seconds, but there’s barely any effort there.

Which makes sense.

Joe’s busy watching.

He’s watching you work out as discretely as he can.

He knows you’re aware of it too. Knows you’re following his whereabouts. Sees you check over your shoulder a little more often than seems normal to check your surroundings. Knows you’re having the absolute worst time because you hate physical exercise like this, but he watches as you power through.

Watches as you seem to finish up.

Watches you leave for the changing rooms, and he quickly does the same. Drops the weights he was still holding right where he’s standing and rushes to get his things because he wants to be ready and waiting by the door when you walk out.

You’re faster than expected.

Joe’s only just left the men’s changing rooms, zipping up his jacket, when he sees you emerge from the women’s.

You see him too.

Of course you do.

But you look right past him as you leave the building, and Joe has to scramble to get the door before it smacks him in the face as he follows you out.

“That was a quick shower.” Joe muses, following your tail.

“I shower at home.” You simply answer, looking for traffic both ways.

“Yea? Can’t tempt you into getting a quick coffee together somewhere?”

Joe dashes after you as you cross the street and comes to walk next to you.

“I’ve got coffee at home.” You dismiss him, but Joe hasn’t given up half his morning for you to suddenly use your sound, responsible mind. Not after yesterday.

“Oh, great. Even better.”

For whatever reason, even after all the interactions you’ve had with Joe post break-up, this feels like the first time it means something. Maybe it’s because it’s been a literal single day since you woke up next to him on his sofa, or maybe it’s because it was a little difficult to look at yourself in the mirror after.

You stop walking abruptly and it takes Joe two whole steps to realise you’re no longer next to him.

“What are you...” you falter, brow furrowed as you look at him.

“Doing?” Joe finishes for you, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m doing what we do– what we have been doing.”

He says it so plainly, like there’s not a million things wrong with that. Like he hadn’t invited you over to stay the night at his flat when there was a whole other person in his bed, likely wondering why the fuck she woke up on her own, just like the guy you’d left in yours.

You’re terrible people, and what Joe is meant to do, is self-loathe in his own time until the feeling has faded enough for a new bout of dumb decisions. You know, like you’re doing.

“You can’t just–...”

“Can’t what?”

Your eyes fall to Joe’s stupid trainers, his faded ugly purple pumas, and you hate how you like that he wore them.

This is never going to be over, is it?

You know with every fibre of your being that you shouldn’t.

But, fuck.

You want to.

You really, really want to.

“Don’t you feel bad?” you ask, hoping that at least Joe will confirm that you’re not overreacting.

You should feel bad.

The both of you.

There’s the slightest moment of introspection from Joe that you see across his face before he smiles at your rosy cheeks and goes, “I do. But not... not about this. What does it matter if I want to go and have a drink with you? Hmm? Who cares about that?”

Well.

Probably that girl that slammed the door of his flat yesterday. And, you also kind of hope that he cares, but it’s difficult to sort through and articulate your thoughts and feelings about that in the moment.

“Do you feel bad?” Joe asks, a hand reaching over to touch you on the arm.

“I feel terrible...” you admit on a heavy exhale. You also feel sweaty and sticky and gross.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yea, well... you should be. Because it’s your fault,” you show the slightest of smiles and fall back into step. “And because your shoes are ugly.”

Joe watches you walk away for a bit, trying to wrap his head around it. Around you. Finds that he was right before: he just wants to be near you, still.

He just wants to be near you always, actually.

He’s lucky you’ve got the same issue.

It’s why you let Joe into your flat.

Why the first thing you do when you get in is make Joe a coffee since he was so adamant about having some.

When he sees that you’re not making yourself a cup, he goes and does it for you. Makes you the perfect cup of coffee, exactly how you like it, and you have to really hide how giddy that makes you feel. Can’t give away how that means something to you. So instead, you make him laugh when, in lieu of sugar, you slide a salt shaker across the table, just because you think Joe needs to know that he’s welcome here, but that he’s not really... welcome here.

“You’re so annoying, my God.” Joe shakes his head, fondness practically dripping from the words as he smiles. He’ll make you a million more cups of coffee if it means you’ll make him laugh like that.

In turn, you laugh at jokes Joe makes about you going for your shower, telling you that you must be exhausted and he’ll gladly help out and hold you up. You know, no big deal, even though he remembers that your shower is small and barely fits two people in.

“We’ll just have to stand really close together.” you quip, joining the bit.

“It will be so awkward for me, but I’ll self-sacrfice, not a problem.”

You laugh together, and Joe drinks the coffee you made for him, and you drink the coffee that he made for you. There’s a moment of silence before you semi-seriously say, “I’m really not meant to have you over.”

It’s complicated. It’s fine, but it’s not.

“Yea... you probably shouldn’t. You’re right.” Joe flirts. “You’re right.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting though...” you sigh, leaning back in your seat. “We’re not to be trusted, I don’t think...”

Joe eyes you for a short moment, then leans forward a little and carefully says, “You’re allowed to set your expectations aside every once in a while, you know... we can just enjoy our time. Nothing wrong with that.”

You can’t help but smile, because the sentiment is sweet, but unfortunately, it doesn’t really work like that. Before you know it, you’ll be back right where you were before, kicking yourself over placing yourself back in that same crappy situation.

A grimacing discontented nose-scrunch does all the talking for you.

“All right,” Joe says on the back-end of a sigh, slapping both legs as he gets up, already heading towards the door. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

You put an arm out and get a handful of his sleeve before he gets even close to leaving, and Joe turns his head to grin at you like you’d played directly into his trap.

Which, you probably just had done.

Had been doing.

“Oh?” Joe startles playfully. “Am I wanted, then?”

The handful of shirt gets pulled into your direction until Joe’s standing really close, and you have to tip your head back all the way to look up at him.

“Do you want to hear me say that I want you?” you challenge his neediness as one of his hands finds your cheek. You know exactly that’s what he wants to hear.

“Is that hard for you?” he challenges your obduracy right back, thumb softly rubbing the skin under your eye, knowing full well how hard of a time you have with sharing your feelings in the moment.

It’ll never be lost on you how there’s so little you can hide from one another. It’s comforting in the most perilous of ways.

It helps that Joe is very upfront about his wants. He’s in your living room for a reason, which makes it a little easier to admit to a truth you can no longer deny.

You wouldn’t have invited him over if you didn’t want him here.

Obviously.

It’s a big ask to set expectations aside in the long-term, but in the short-term, temptation and comfort always seem to win all too easily. Hence the handfull of fabric you’re still holding.

That doesn’t meant that Joe deserves the satisfaction of hearing you say that, though.

“No.” you smile, eyes casting downwards. “But… do you want to know what is hard for me?”

Without any hesitation, you let your hand find the bulge in his jeans, and Joe flinches at the contact, his other hand immediately around your wrist to control your next move, grip tight, like he’s using it to not lose his balance.

“Don’t.”

With his eyes shut, he exhales a slow breath.

“Oh?” your eyebrows shoot up in the same way his had done earlier. “Am I wrong, then?”

Joe has to bite back a smile, and there’s a moment where you’re just staring each other down, your hand touching growing parts of Joe, and his hand keeping it right in place. It’s hard for him to look away from your eyes and the sparkle they look at him with.

It’s a big ask to set expectations aside... when you haven’t really got any to begin with.

Joe’s voice comes out a little gruff when he says, “How about that shower?” all lowly, giving a slight nod up in question as he bites into his bottom lip.

The only way out seems through.

But, just before you give in all over again, something pipes up in your mind that turns you solemn. Something Joe said the night before.

“You um...” you swallow thickly and slowly remove your hand from Joe’s jeans. “You said we weren’t the best, before...”

This dance between heartfelt earnestness and teasing banter is becoming a little confusing, but, to be fair, everything about you and Joe is confusing.

Joe’s hand on your cheek is warm, and you let the words you’d just said linger. Let them speak for themselves. You haven’t asked Joe a question that needs an answer, but you wait for him to figure out what you mean all by himself.

Why should you go have a shower with Joe if he doesn’t think you’re good together? If things can’t be better than before?

“Before...” Joe repeats and then slowly lowers himself next to your chair and leans on a knee so he’s more at eye-level with you. He’s choked with tenderness for you, especially when you look like this, not unlike what you looked like when you barged into his flat a night ago. “Before, yea. But that was–...”

Then.

This is now.

Joe’s hand is still on your face, his steady touch unmoving, but now his fingers curl under your jaw and around your ear, and it burns your skin. You want to allow yourself to enjoy the gentle touch, but you can’t. Shouldn’t. Your wants are too risky.

Anxiety swells and you can feel how your fingers are searching out a bit of fabric to run along, but you’re not wearing long sleeves. It’s why your next question comes out all choppy.

“Will it b-be different?”

Your question implies a whole lot. Implies a want for something new. For something better. Something different. And, perhaps most terrifyingly, it implies a want for something together.

You think if Joe is going to be completely honest with you, he should tell you no. However, logically, you also understand there’s a current heavy throbbing in his underwear that might influence things slightly.

Still.

You want to hear his answer.

Want to know what he’s really doing here.

What his expectations are.

Joe can’t predict the future. But you desperately want him to.

“It can be.”

Instant disappointment.

In Joe, and within yourself.

It can be.

It’s the most non-committal answer Joe could’ve given. It’s guarded. Evasive. Without clear indication or attitude of feeling.

You hate it.

But then you watch as he slowly grabs hold of one of your hands and guides it to the sleeve hem of the hoodie he is wearing where your fingers immediately find home and rub to their hearts content. It’s embarrassing how your shoulders instantly relax.

Joe clears his throat, cradling your face in both of his hands now, and adds, “It should be.” which he makes sound like a promise.

It should be.

It should be because you are both older and wiser and have learnt lessons and have grown. It should be because you are new people, with old habits but with new intentions.

It should be because you really want it to be.

It should be because Joe is really going to try.

That’s all you want.

All you need.

It should be makes you whine and drop your head fully into Joe’s hold.

It should be has you accept Joe’s lips that press firmly against yours.

It should be allows you to be picked up and lead over to your bathroom where you both undress at lightning speed.

It should be has you under the stream before the water’s even fully warmed up, standing really close together, and not just because the shower’s small.

Emily’s absolutely going to kill you.

But she’s allowed.

She can murder both you and Joe together, and you’ll continue doing what you’re doing right now in whatever the afterlife even is until the end of time itself.

Time can stop, for all you care.

Joe touches you in the shower until your legs can quite literally no longer carry you, and then Joe touches you in your bed until every single cell of your body is violently shaking in pure delight.

It should be different.

It will be different.

And different starts right fucking now.

“I love you.”

Joe pants the words heavily into your skin. Into your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. Wants them to settle there and never leave. He seals them in with kisses, and repeats mumbling praise that he hopes will cling onto you for a while as well.

You’re convinced he’s just saying things because it feels right in the moment. Because he wants to prove to you that he’s right.

You lay together, bodies on top of each other, and it takes longer than feels normal to come back down from what you’ve just done. Joe holds you in place on top of him, both his hands wrapped around your arms, and when you try to move, when you try to let yourself slide off and fall onto the mattress next to him, he only further strengthens his grip.

“I love you.” He then says more clearly, and he sounds like he’s admitting it to himself just as much as he is to you. Like it’s something that he needs to hear himself articulate more than it’s something that you might need to hear.

It’s unbelievable that he’s here, right now.

He fully thought you’d be done with him by now, yet, here you are, wanting more of him. Different. Yes. But more all the same.

“Love you, love you, love you.” Joe punctuates with kisses.

Joe finds that he’s still as full of emotion for you as he was when you were still together, but there’s a huge difference in voicing it. In saying things aloud for other people to hear.

For you to hear.

“Yea,” you smile, tickled by the tone of Joe’s repeated confession, convinced you’ve pulled the words straight from his dick. “Yea you do.”

There’s no way Joe is thinking with his brain right now.

A soft scoff comes from him before he tries his best to sound like a schoolteacher as he demands, “Say it back.”

You huff a laugh to that, still feeling a little floaty and too far gone for a coherent response. All you can think about is how Joe’s still inside of you, and how he is keeping you there.

Then one of his hands lets you go, but is quickly followed by a well-aimed poke to your side that has you squirming. Joe remembers all your vulnerable spots, knows exactly where they are, fucking dick.

“Say it back! Say, I love you too, Joe.”

In your giggling, you manage to sit up a little and glare down at Joe, but you’re smiling, which completely ruins the effect, and it turns him a little soft inside. You then lean back down a little and give him a peck by his ear which serves to shut Joe up.

He decides it’s enough of an answer, close enough to an I love you said in return. He knows you do, anyway.

In your next move, you snuggle into him, cheek rubbing into his skin, and, fuck, Joe’s done for.

“Yea… yea, you love me too.”

“Shut up.” You whisper, giggles stuck in the back of your throat that you try your best to contain, ones that Joe lets out easily.

“Too bad you’re so annoying.”

“Yea.” You squeeze Joe tighter and let your teeth scrape the skin of his chest. “I’m the worst.”

There’s no phone buzzing on the bedroom floor.

There’s no other people hiding in a different room in your flat.

No... Jessicas, or whatever. No Jaspers.

You’re in the centre of your bed together, no sides picked or chosen, and the temperature inside reflects neither icy Antarctica nor the Amazon rainforest.

It should be different.

Better.

It already is.

Are you risking making the same mistakes all over again? Yes. Are you willing to still go ahead and give this a try? Also yes.

“Will you stay?” Joe quietly asks, silently and warily bringing up how vulnerable he felt when you broke it all off months ago.

You move your head to look him in the eye for a second.

“I should.” you whisper back, reassuring you in same way Joe had reassured you.

“Will you stay?” you repeat Joe’s question, but know what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth.

One of his hands snakes around to hold you by the back of your neck.

“I will.”

the end

---

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[sanarsi]

That shit won’t end well

Reed Richards x f!Reader

Summary: An affair with the most famous inventor of your time? What could possibly go wrong? Warnings: +18, MDNI, affair, cheater!Reed, lovers' quarrel, professor x student relationship Wordcount: 1,3k An: No beta readin because I don't want to hate my another work. Please,,, Tate is a total vibe for Pedro idk. This is somethin light cause honestly I've been tired of writing smut lately. Don’t ask me bout kinktober, I swear I will finish this (someday) Music I worked with: greedy- Tate McRea

Masterlist

“When will you tell your wife about us?”

The first words that came out of your mouth after making love for the last hour. You certainly couldn’t have found a better moment.

Reed sighed deeply, making you rise along with his chest. It made it clear to you that he didn’t want to bring up the subject, but… did he ever?

Exactly.

“We’ve already talked about it.”

An evasive answer. So in his style

“Yeah, and still no results.” You barely suppressed a snort at the thought of how things were going between you.

Sex. That’s all he called for.

And along with it went tender kisses and promises he never kept.

I’ll divorce her for you.

You’re the only one who matters to me.

I’m doing this for us.

You’re my dream come true.

I love you.

Yeah... so many words and all so empty.

“Baby, it’s not that simple,” he sighed, clearly irritated that you decided to go through with it. But what else do you have left?

“It is simple,” you said, a little more harshly than you intended, but your patience had its limits. You propped yourself up on elbow and glared at him. “You’re the one who makes it hard.”

And there was silence.

You didn’t know if he didn’t know what to say or if he didn’t want to say what he meant. He just stared at you; at the little flames of determination dancing in your eyes as you tried to get what you wanted.

Taking advantage of his silence, you continued.

“You’ve been promising me for months that you’d tell her about us. And yet… I still see you with her on TV, acting out the perfect marriage.” You gasped, furious at the memory of them together. How they smiled, looking at each other with love.

How could he lie like that? How could he pretend like that?

You sat up, turning your back to him and covered yourself with the sheet, suddenly feeling too exposed.

You were hurt and he knew very well what he was doing to you. Apparently, he just didn’t care.

Tears of frustration spilled unwanted into your eyes.

“Baby… don’t be like that,” he began in a soothing voice as his warm hand began to stroke your back. Your body automatically relaxed at the familiar touch, but you had to wipe away a single tear yourself.

“Don’t you think I deserve this after all these years?” You glanced at him over your shoulder and you could immediately see the resignation in his eyes. He was just as tired as you were, too bad it was for a different reason.

“You deserve the world.”

This time you couldn't hold back a snort. You shook your head in resignation and looked away.

You already knew those words by heart. All his soothing words and sweet nothings. You don't remember the moment when that began to define him.

“If I deserve it, why don’t you give it to me?” you asked more quietly, almost in a whisper, as if you were asking yourself and not him.

“Why don’t you understand that it’s not that simple?” His patience was also running out. His touch disappeared and instead there was coldness.

“We’ve been married for over twenty years, things like this don’t end just like that.” He snapped his fingers to add to the effect and that's what woke you up. Like a magic wand.

“Twenty years of marriage and five of you cheated on her,” you blurted out under your breath but he still managed to hear it. You felt his burning gaze on you but you didn’t care, you were already halfway to your clothes scattered on the floor.

“Are you really goin’ to be like that?” he growled, not believing your behavior but he didn't react when you started getting dressed. “I gave you everything you could possibly want. Clothes, jewelry, trips, fuck— I bought ya a fuckin’ apartment.”

“Do you really think that gifts will replace me love?” you asked calmly, looking at him with hurt written on every inch of your face.

Did he really think you were such a shallow person? The gifts were nice gestures but you never asked him for any of those things. It was only when you actually asked for something that he didn’t want to give you.

Reed was silent for a moment, staring at you as if he didn’t understand your words.

Right.

How on earth could you want something he couldn’t just buy? How on earth could you want something he couldn’t just give you? Couldn’t or simply didn’t want to.

You snorted at the look on his face. “Wow, you really have a low opinion of me.”

“You’re too young to understand that.”

The smile disappeared from your face the moment those words left his lips because hearing that from him was something you weren’t ready for.

You were too… young?

“So why you even fuckin’ me?” you growled uncontrollably, feeling your walls slowly crumble. “Because I’m young and stupid so I will enjoy the fact that you spoil me while keeping my mouth shut?”

You raised an eyebrow expecting his answer but didn’t even give him a chance.

“Surprise! You came to the wrong address. I’m not stupid and I know what I want from life. I want you,” you pointed at him. “But since you don’t want to give me the one and only thing I actually want— then I think we should part ways.”

You said it all in one breath and almost choked when you finished.

Silence fell over the room as you just stared at each other with an intensity that would set the whole building on fire.

You weren’t going to give up, but also weren’t going to beg him for something like this. You had spent enough time trying to convince him, but... how long could you grovel to someone who was just clearly making fun of you?

“I made you too greedy,” he commented as if he was simply displeased with your attitude. Like you were a child who couldn’t behave.

The worst part was that you really felt like that; like you wanted too much from him.

Like you didn't deserve that much.

“Maybe.” You shrugged, trying to ignore the burning feeling in your chest like something was trying to rip you in half.

Is that what it feels like when someone you love hurts you?

You weren’t sure about everything that was happening in that moment, but you were sure of one thing - you never wanted to feel like an idiot again.

You reached for your purse and looked at him as formally as you could. “Don’t call me again.”

“You won’t leave me,” he said with a hint of uncertainty that he tried to hide behind his anger. You hated it when he hid his true feelings, as if he was ashamed to admit that he might actually care about you. After so many years together, even that could hurt more than it should.

You smiled gently, sincerely disappointed with his attitude. Maybe you had too high expectations of him. In the end he was just a man anyway.

“So sure of yourself,” you said under your breath as if you admired him for it.

Well, maybe you did once.

But not after what you went through with him.

“See you at the university, professor.”

You glanced at him one last time and turned around, leaving the hotel room without even bothering to close the door behind you.

Tags: @bbyanarchist @syd-djarin @yorksgirl @puduvallee

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Pieces of Her - Chapter One

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(I know... I know, I should NOT be starting another story but, this idea just won't leave my mind)

“Fuck baby” Jon moaned out, as he gripped Kenya’s hips. Kenya threw her head back in pleasure and she started bouncing on his dick. “Shit” he dragged out.  “Just like that.” Jon's fingers dug into the curve of Kenya’s waist, pulling her closer to him with every bounce. She leaned forward, kissing him deeply, their tongues entwining in a heated exchange. 

“You boutta cum for me, Daddy?” Kenya whispered against his lips and Jon nodded, his hips bucking up to meet her every thrust. Kenya leaned down so that their chests were pressed against each other. The sound of her ass slapping against his thighs triggered his orgasm. 

“Shit! I’m boutta nut!” Hearing him say that made her start to bounce on his dick harder and faster. 

“Go ‘head Daddy, nut in your pussy.” 

“Fuck!” He moaned out, closing his eyes in ecstasy  as her walls tightened around him 

“Trin..” He moaned out and both he and Kenya froze. 

‘Bitch, did you just…” She trailed off, moving off of him and rushing into the bathroom to clean herself up. Jon winced when she slammed the bathroom door shut. 

“Baby! I’m sorry man, I-I” He stuttered trying to come up with a good excuse as to why he said his ex-girlfriend's name as he came inside of his current fiance. He groaned and got off the bed, pulling his briefs back on, and walked over to the bathroom door, frowning when he found it locked. 

“Kenya, I’m sorry. Open the door please.” He jumped as the bathroom door opened and Kenya walked out, now dressed in her pink Louis Vuitton robe. 

“Move out my way.” She said glaring at him. Jon watched with wide eyes as she walked into their closet and came back out with her duffel bag and dressed in a grey hoodie and black leggings. 

“No baby, wait lemme -“ Jon wrapped one of his hands around her forearm trying to stop her but Kenya snatched her arm out of his grasp. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” She said, looking at him in disgust. “I knew something was up when y’all followed each other back on Instagram. You got me fucked up Fatu.” She said, throwing clothes and some essentials in her duffle bag. 

“No, just let me explain.” Jon tried to grab her arm again but the glare she sent his way stopped him. 

“ I knew this was too good to be true.” Kenya started, motioning her hand between the two of them. “I heard the way your mom and brothers talked about our relationship. How shocked they were when you told them you proposed. You’re mom couldn’t even pretend to be happy Jonathan.” 

Jon felt his heart sink as Kenya's words hit him. He knew she was right. His family had been skeptical of their relationship from the start, always comparing Kenya to Trinity.

Since his mom had met Kenya, she would always try to compare the two. And she would point out all of Kenya's flaws. 

 “Trinity always made sure his clothes were clean before he went on the road.” 

“Trinity always had a warm meal ready for Jon” 

“Trinity was used to life on the road… How are you going to cope with him being gone most of the time?” 

“I was never gonna be good enough, no matter how hard I tried. We we never going to last”  Jon watched helplessly as Kenya finished packing up what she could. She zipped the bag up and placed it on her shoulder. “I’ll try to come back for the rest of my stuff.” 

“Kenya.. Please.” He whispered, his voice cracking as he watched her with teary eyes. “I’m sorry, please don’t go.”  

Kenya scoffed quietly as she made it to their his bedroom door. “Do you know what hurts the most? I always knew that you weren’t over her, like in the back of my mind I knew, but when she left the company I just… I dunno I was hoping you would get over her, but I guess that was silly of me to assume.” 

“Baby... I-I am over her.”

Kenya scoffed again as she noticed his slight hesitation. She let out a sad sigh as she looked around the room she had decorated for their anniversary. Kenya's eyes lingered on the photos she had taped to the strings, their smiling faces mocked her now, a painful reminder of what she thought they had. She blinked back tears and turned her gaze back to him. 

“You’re not and I can’t keep pretending that you are.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her tears now falling freely down her cheeks. “I deserve better than to be someone’s second choice.” 

She opened the door and walked out of the room, she heard Jon’s footsteps close behind her. “I love you!” He called out after her. “I don’t know why I said her name! I haven’t talked to her in months! I swear baby, It didn’t mean anything!” 

Kenya stopped walking and whirled around to face Jon. “How could you say that? What if I moaned out my ex’s name while you were inside me huh? Would you just be okay with it?” 

Jon fell silent, unable to answer. He knew he'd be devastated if the roles were reversed. Kenya shook her head, disappointed but not surprised by his lack of response.

“Exactly.” She said as she shook her head and opened the front door, walking out and towards her car. She unlocked the doors with the fob and threw her bag into the backseat. She hurriedly hopped into the driver's seat as she noticed Jon rushing towards her, still only dressed in his briefs. 

“Kenya, Please. I’m fucking begging. Just come back inside so we can talk.” Jon said, pulling on the door handle but she had locked it. Kenya stared straight ahead, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as Jon pleaded outside her window. She couldn't bear to look at him, knowing if she did, her resolve might crumble. With a deep breath, she started the engine. “No! Kenya!” Jon called out hitting his hand against the window as she pulled off from in front of their home. 

Kenya had wound up driving to her studio and sleeping on the couch there. She woke up the next morning to about 50 missed phone calls from Jon and about 20 from his twin brother Josh. 

Josh Fatu: Sis, can u jus let me know you safe. Bro in here spazzing out cause u turned ur location off. 

To Josh Fatu: I’m okay 

Just as she sat up and stretched her phone started ringing. Kenya sighed as Jon’s contact stared back at her. She waited for it to stop ringing before unlocking her phone and blocking his number. She let out a deep sigh as she pushed herself off the couch, walked into the kitchen area and started a pot of coffee. 

She was in deep thought as she leaned against the counter, absentmindedly stroking the engagement ring she was still wearing. Kenya's fingers lingered on the diamond ring, memories flooding her mind. The day Jon proposed, the way his eyes lit up when she said yes, the plans they'd made for their future together. It all felt like a distant dream now. 

Its been about a month since she’s last talked to Jon. Even though he was blocked from her phone he had shown up to the studio multiple times to try to get her to talk to him, she just couldn’t she was embarrassed. She had bever had a guy moan out another girls name while she was with them. 

“Yo shawty, you good?” Kenya broke out of her daydream and look up from the soundboard. 

Brent well Christopher was staring back at her, holding the joint out to her to which she politely declined. 

“Yeah sorry, just thinking.” She said as she cleared her throat. “You ready.” 

He took anothe rhit of the joint before setting it aside. “Whenever you are.”  

Kenya took a deep breath and nodded before standing up and walking into the booth. She normally let other artist perform her lyrics but this one was personal.. She needed to be the one on the tract. 

Brent gave her a thumbs up and Kenya closed her eyes as the music begans to flow from the headphones, she took a deep breath before her voice filled the studio as she began to sing. 

🎶Go figure You were the trigger You brought me to an obstructed view When you knew the picture was bigger Who am I kiddin'? Knew from the beginnin' You'd ruin everything, you do it every time You are my enemy, you are no friend of mine, muhfucker, uh 🎵

BrentFaiyaz

liked by JustKenya, and 514,700 others

BrentFaiyaz: thank you @JustKenya for trusting me 🎼

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chrisbrownofficial: oh shit! we getting new music!

hermusicofficial: she's finally getting in the booth! Time to show the world your talent baby girl ❤️

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Authors Note: WHY DO I WRITE JON AS THIS PIECE OF SHIT OMG!! but here's my new story! (well one of them.) Tell me what y'all think! 😬

(edit, sorry.. this is the song Kenya "wrote")

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

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[dinarosie]

"Snape vs. James: Why I’ll Defend One and Not the Other"

Let’s break it down. Severus Snape and James Potter both made mistakes. Both hurt people. But the why behind their mistakes? That’s where the comparison becomes impossible to ignore.

Snape’s cruelty? It came from a place of deep pain. He grew up in neglect, surrounded by violence, and never knew a life where love or kindness came freely. He didn’t know what “healthy” even looked like. He lashed out because that was all he knew, survival meant hardening himself. He joined the wrong side because he was desperate to belong somewhere, anywhere.

But here’s the key: Snape regretted his choices. He recognized the harm he caused and spent his life trying to make things right. His redemption wasn’t easy or clean—it was hard-fought, messy, and deeply human.

Now, let’s talk about James Potter. James hurt people too—but not out of pain, not because he didn’t know better. He knew better—he just didn’t care. His actions came from boredom, from entitlement, from the sheer fun of watching someone else suffer.

James had everything Snape didn’t. He was rich, popular, loved, and endlessly privileged. He had every advantage in life, every opportunity to be kind, and he chose cruelty because he thought it was funny.

And the real kicker? James never really had to pay for his actions. There’s no regret, no apology, no attempt to make amends. He graduated Hogwarts, married Lily, and got his “happily ever after.” Snape, on the other hand, carried the weight of his guilt for the rest of his life. He fought for redemption until the moment he died.

So, no, I don’t feel the same about their mistakes. Snape’s flaws came from the wounds he carried, the scars of a life filled with suffering. James’s flaws? They came from privilege—a choice to hurt others because he could.

And that’s the heart of it. Snape’s life was a fight to rise above the pain life handed him, a struggle to become better despite the odds. James? He had everything and still chose to harm others.

So ask yourself: who truly shows us what it means to change? Who teaches us the cost of redemption? And who just walked away, untouched, as if none of it ever mattered?

[moontopuff]

Summary: twins hear some nasty rumours about you, and don't like people talk like that about their favourite Hufflepuff.

Other: hurt/angst? I mean, group of students are gossiping about your relationship with twins in a nasty way... its mostly about twins reactions and their wave of protectiveness towards you.

The corridors of Hogwarts bustled with the usual energy, as Fred and George Weasley strolled through the hall, joking about their next prank. Their conversation slowly faded as they neared a group of Hufflepuff girls chattering animatedly just ahead.

They weren’t ones to eavesdrop, not random students, because their topics were usually just too boring. Still, when your name slipped into the conversation, both twins fell silent, instinctively tuning in. It wasn’t like they could help it when it was you they were talking about.

"…Right! And Ernie asked me to the ball yesterday, so I’m going too!" a blonde girl said excitedly, her voice carrying through the hall.

"Good for you, girlie!" her friend, a brunette, chimed in, clapping her on the shoulder. But then her tone shifted, quieter now. "And on the topic… Do you know if anybody asked (Y/N) to the ball yet?"

Fred and George slowed their pace, glancing at each other with smirks. Did somebody ask their favorite Hufflepuff yet? You didn't tell them anything, and if they will know thanks to gossip... Well, they will use it to tease you, for sure. That's why they stopped their walk, pretending to be interested in something else, while listening to conversation.

"I talked with that girl who is close to her, and I know that nope! And isn’t it kinda sad that nobody’s asked her to the ball yet?" another girl snickered.

"Yeah," the blonde one agreed, her voice softer but tinged with clear jealousy. "Especially since she’s always seen with the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan. I figured she’d be the first to have a date. She's close with them, after all."

"Exactly," the brunette chimed in, her eyes wide with faux innocence. "I mean, if she’s so close to the twins, how come neither of them wants to take her? I heard some Ravenclaw's talking that it's probably she’s… you know… giving it up to both of them, but they still don't want her, and thus she still can’t even get a proper date."

Weasley twins blinked in unison, too surprised to do more than that. That's... not what they were expecting to hear.

Fred woke up first and felt a wave of disgust wash over him, his hands balling into fists. George’s jaw clenched beside him, the tension building between them as they forced themselves to stay silent and listen.

"Yeah, like, that’s just pathetic," the blonde said, her voice turning mocking. "She’s hanging around them all the time, probably hooking up with both of them, and yet here she is, still dateless. That’s… well, kind of sad, don’t you think?"

A chorus of giggles followed, the sound hitting Fred and George like a slap in the face. The idea that anyone could think that they are spending time with you only for your body... That you were only their plaything, while that couldn't be more far from the truth. The fact that people believed it was happening and were laughing at you for it—made their blood boil.

"She’s probably desperate," one of the girls added, her tone casual but venomous, and that was the last thing twins' heard as the girls started walking away and their giggles finally faded into the distance. With that, the twins also resumed walking, not a world exchange between them, just cold silence. Neither of them spoke for a few moments, their minds racing with anger and guilt. You were their friend—someone they cared about deeply, and hearing people spread lies and cruel rumors about you left a bitter taste in their mouths.

"You think she’s heard any of this?" George asked quietly, his voice tinged with concern.

Fred’s frown deepened. "If she has, she hasn’t said a word. But Merlin, if she knew what they were saying…"

They both knew how kind and loyal you were—always trying to avoid conflict, always looking out for others. You weren’t the type to confront people, not unless it was absolutely necessary. You’d rather keep your head down, maybe even shrug off the rumors with a weak smile, even if they were cutting you deep inside. The thought of you, bashful and kind as always, hearing something like this made Fred’s stomach twist in knots.

"She doesn’t deserve this," George muttered, shaking his head.

Fred’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of determination sparking behind them. "We’ve got to do something. She shouldn’t have to deal with this rubbish."

George smirked slightly, though there was no humor in it. "Something big. Make sure everyone knows the truth without making her feel embarrassed about it."

Fred nodded, already hatching a plan in his mind. "Subtle enough that she won’t notice what we’re up to. But obvious enough that no one will ever believe those lies again."

They continued down the hall, their thoughts already racing ahead to what needed to be done. This wasn’t just about protecting you from gossip—this was about reminding everyone that you were worth far more than the cruel words of a few petty girls. That you were more than your body. You were loyal, hardworking, and kind, and anyone who thought less of you clearly didn’t know you at all.

"By the time we’re done," Fred said, a glint of mischief finally returning to his eyes, "she’ll have half of Hogwarts wishing they were her date to the ball."

George grinned, feeling the tension between them ease as they began to plot. "And we’ll make sure everyone knows she’s not someone to mess with."

Silently, they decided that you now, along with Ginny, are under his protection: who will do wrong to you, will do wrong to them, and thus, punishment will be given. They knew you could handle yourself, but why let you do that, when they could do it themselves, and spare you dealing with rubbish people? The twins walked off with renewed purpose, ready to set their plans in motion.

[sweetkpopmusings]

miserable (you & me) | h. jisung <3

a/n: jisung unlocks a part of me that is deeply emotional and romantic like ...... i love and cherish him so much :-( i really got in my feels with this one, and i hope you enjoy a glimpse into what i think being loved by jisung is like <3 also yes i gave him my favorite lyric of the song as a treat because his lyrics pull me apart and put me back together every time :,-) pics not mine~

content: angst, happy ending | wc: 1.3k | warnings: none really! | pairing: jisung x gn!reader | requests:open

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“i don’t wanna lose a part of me, you are my heart, you know?”

jisung couldn’t believe he was living out an overplayed scene in every book, movie, song, and tv show ever created. maybe some clichés were just universal experiences. if that were true, staring out blankly at flashing lights on the tarmac after the plane touches the ground must be a rite of passage for every modern human. his body barely registered the number of hours suspended in the air, as his mind only focused on one thing: you. if asked about the music he listened to during the flight, he wouldn’t know how to answer. truthfully, he didn’t listen to anything other than the internal chant of your name mixed with alternate beats of i’m sorry and i wish i said so sooner. 

jisung barely survived the past few weeks. existing with love and heartbreak in one body simultaneously sounds made-up, but that was jisung’s reality after he walked away that night. a reality he created and regretted more than anything.

it was classic. both of you were stressed from too many things going wrong in your lives, and the agitation bled into your conversations and actions. even your facial expressions were tinged with negative emotions not meant for each other. then, as it so often happened, one wrong sentence ruined everything. 

you knew jisung didn’t mean it when he said “if you’re so unhappy every time you see me, then why do you keep inviting me over?” 

but he said it, and you heard it, and it hurt. 

though jisung’s face fell at the sound of his words, all you could think to say was, “i think you should go. you have an early flight tomorrow.”

jisung stood there, mouth open, waiting for words–the right ones–to come out of his mouth. the silence hung in the air for too long. he saw your eyes glistening with tears, and he didn’t want his presence to be the reason the tears fell. again, out of exhaustion and fear of a fight, he said the wrong thing.

“okay, i’ll go.”

jisung’s heart broke when all you replied was, “safe travels.”

neither of you made a promise to see each other after jisung returned. both of you assumed you would see each other as soon as he was back, but both of you feared that the other person wouldn’t want to reunite. somehow words unsaid weighed on both of you more than the misspoken ones. but it felt too late. neither of you knew if continuing the conversation tonight was right, so neither of you said anything. jisung’s plane took him away the next morning, and you couldn’t find the courage to close the distance between you two any time soon.

that fear hung over jisung for the entire trip. it ate him up inside, yet he didn’t have the courage to face it. for weeks, he felt frozen. then, perhaps from the adrenaline of finally being in the same city as you again, he found the courage.

as soon as he unlocked his front door, jisung threw his bag on the floor, and, without a second thought, he turned on his heel and rushed to your place. he didn’t care if he had to wait at your doorstep all night and well into the morning. jisung could not, would not rest until he apologized to your face. you deserved that. if his words were what hurt you, then you deserved a million more kind words from him until you were healed. 

his heart was about to burst out of his chest during the seconds between his knock on your door and you pulling it open. you were so beautiful to jisung, and your beauty became more profound when he saw you again. he felt he could cry looking at you in your doorway. even he hadn’t realized how deeply he had missed you until you were within arms’ reach. 

everything had felt so far away for so long, but, with you, finally, jisung felt connected to everything around him. he felt like he could breathe for the first time when he heard your soft hello. he felt the world start spinning again when you said his name. he felt his heartbeat return to his chest, replacing the dull ache that had filled it since he turned his back to you that night. 

“i’m sorry.”

a small, instinctive smile flickered on your face at the sound of his voice, “come inside.”

jisung nodded, shaking from the desire to spill his heart out to you. thankfully, you sensed this, and you gave him the space to make things right again.

“i’m so, so sorry, y/n. i know i shouldn’t have left that night like that, and i know i should’ve apologized sooner. there are so many things to say to you, and you don’t owe it to me to listen. i just need you to know i’m sorry and i regret what i said and did that night. you didn’t deserve that.”

jisung paused. he held your gaze, eyes very clearly filling with tears. he waited for your permission to continue speaking, which you gave with a nod. he blinked, took a deep breath, and filled himself with equal parts courage and love for you.

“i also regret not saying anything, anything at all, sooner. i got in my head. i was so scared that saying ‘i’m sorry’ over text wasn’t enough, and i felt it was unfair to talk like normal when things clearly weren’t normal. i needed you to know how sorry i am. then, as the days passed, i realized a phone call wouldn’t be enough either. well, that, and i was so scared you wouldn’t answer my call. i would’ve deserved it, but a rejected phone call somehow felt more painful than a prolonged silence, so i didn’t call. i’m a coward, i know, and i am sorry for that too. that’s why i’m here.” 

jisung paused again, wiping his tears before gently holding your hands in his own, “you can kick me out as soon as i say my last word. i won’t fight you on it. i hate that i hurt you right before getting on the flight. i missed you so much that i lost my mind. i never want to feel that lost again. i never want to lose you. so i’m sorry. i will do everything you need me to, just so i can make things right again. you are my everything, and you deserve more than everything i can give you.”

tears fell from your eyes this time, which made jisung cry even more. the way you looked at him as you took in his apology gave him hope. he raised his hands to wipe your tears and then cradled your face softly. you were enveloped in his love and the relief that, despite the mistakes, he chose to come back to you. he kept his promise to choose you every time. that was more than enough proof that his apology was real.

your hands covered his, and you smiled despite sniffling, “i forgive you, jisung. thank you for apologizing, and thank you for coming here tonight.”

jisung felt as though he could sob and shout from the rooftops in joy. you forgave him. he hadn’t lost you. his heart would be complete again. 

“thank you, y/n. that means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

a comfortable, tender silence washed over you in your living room. you held each other, cherishing the distance disappearing. this was how things were meant to be. this was what you and jisung would always work for, no matter what got in the way, because the shared space between you was the strongest center of gravity you knew.

once all of the tears dried, jisung smiled brightly and confessed, “i really missed you so much. you are my heart, you know?”

familiar butterflies filled your stomach in response to jisung’s sweet, romantic words, “i missed you too, jisung. i’m so happy to have you back. more than you’ll ever know.”

the way jisung smiled at you made you think that maybe, just maybe, he knew exactly how happy you were.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Take Me To Church (Hozier)

I was born sick, but I love it/Command me to be well/A-, Amen, Amen, Amen/Take me to church/I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies/I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife/Offer me that deathless death/Good God, let me give you my life

“1. It’s Hozier, what do you expect? 2. Worship imagery... (I don’t know why I like it, but I do.)”

Against the Kitchen Floor (Will Wood)

And I swear! I will die trying!/I'm still in the process, but I'm making progress; I promise I honestly wanna prove improvement's possible, I swear!/I'm so fucking sorry! I'm not a good person, I'm barely a person at all, But someday I'll be perfect, and I'll make up for it all!

Less rare than scarce, less diamond then rough/Unlikely to be more than just the coal you failed to crush

I'm catatonic in your arms, crying, "How did I cause so much harm?"/I'm down pounding my head against the kitchen floor/Apologizing for my life and ever entering yours

The vertex of my redemption arc/I’m searching on that virgin heart

"The raw emotion! And I strongly relate to desperately wanting to improve for someone you love. I belt out this song when I feel really hopeless"

"my one OC. also me. also it's just a really good song. one of will's best imo. screaminbg"

"Literally hits almost all of my self-esteem issues. Feeling like people only care about you for your body? Check. Not understanding why anyone would want you? Check. Thinking that all you do is hurt people? Check. I don't cry very often but this song DEFINITELY made me teary"

"one of those if u aren’t paying attention to the lyrics ur like this is nice but once u hear them its an OW holy OW and guilt and I’m sorry feelings"

"Just. Loving someone but not feeling like you’re good enough and trying to improve."

"Not only does this song have lyrics that are deeply relatable to me, but this song also feels very deeply personal to the artist and I feel that anyone who listens to it for the first time has that same feeling of getting punched in the gut. Just the lyrics and the melody and Will Wood’s vocals make this song an absolute masterpiece and I cry every time I hear it."

"One reason I'm attached to this song is because my friend sent it to me and said "I'm kin assigning you this song" and ruined my life (/j) It messed me up because I've always had a hard time in my life figuring myself out and dealing with my emotions, and for what feels like the first time, this song has been able to near perfectly describe how I feel about myself and my impact on other people, and it always just meant so much to me that my friend who sent it to me knows me better than I know myself and shared the song with me and I love them dearly."

Against the Kitchen Floor submitted by @pixopolis + others

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Finding Normal

Friday nights could be busy for your late-night café. Not normally this busy though. When the fifth group of overly muscled men stumbled through your door looking for lots of coffee to sober up you had to ask.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, but why are you all here?” You ask the last man of the group who is paying for his large black coffee and one sugar.

“Huh? Oh, got told we can’t come back to base roaring drunk. One of the SAS told us about a coffee shop that is open until three am. Last call around here is one thirty.” He only slurs his words slightly.

“Okay, thanks that’s really helpful to know. Should I expect you all back next week?”

He blinks at you before grinning. “Probably us and more if the coffee is good.”

With a light laugh you let him know his drink will be ready shortly.

When the doors are locked, and you finish cleaning up you are delighted to see that your café turned a large profit for the first time. Even your tip jar sat full.

That’s how John apologized for pouncing on you with questions about choosing who you love. You loved them all dammit. You didn’t want to have sex, at all, but the idea of losing any of them cracked the foundation below your feet.

Johnny sent flowers. Every week since, what you were calling, the incident, a new bunch would arrive. Kyle dropped off a new book for you to read before he went out on his last job, a small note tucked into the first few pages where he apologized for hurting you. Simon paid for a spa day and left the number and amount on account for you before disappearing into his room. Gary. Thinking about Gary’s apology still makes you a bit sad.

They gave you three weeks of space before Gary cracked and waited in front of the door until you got home late one night from work. He looked so despondent that you offered a hand down to him.

Pulling Gary into your room you instruct him to get comfortable. Changing in the bathroom you come back to find him resting on your bed, eyes hidden by the crook of his elbow. Sliding under your blankets you scootch until you are resting next to his lean body.

He curls around you, tears wetting your hair settle against him.

“Please-se-se don’t leave us-s-s.”

Anyone else asking you could have rebuffed, or pushed away for another day. Gary’s broken plea told you it was time to give. They didn’t understand. And they wouldn’t understand unless you said something.

Rolling back to grab your phone off the nightstand you make sure Gary can read the messages you are typing. Firing off a few texts in the group chat you hope that the clarification on what you would be willing to give and desire in return. When you wake all of the guys are happily conversing in the kitchen, waiting for you.

<Couple things

<I love you all.

<I am asexual. For me, that means I don’t experience sexual attraction and live happily without sex in my life.

<I know that sex is deeply important physically, emotionally, psychologically for almost everyone else in the world.

<I can’t provide that.

<I am okay with kisses and even making out sometimes.

<If you still want to love me or spend time with me, I recommend we all sit down and discuss what polyamory might look like because either I get to love all of you or none of you.

You followed all that up with a few links to helpful and informative pages about asexuality and polyamory.

@backseatsoldier sending loves and kisses your way.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[cringetown-blog]

there’s something about this scene in murder drones that really fucks with me when I think about it

—long post and murder drones ep 7 spoilers below—

So for a short recap of what happened up till this point, Tessa told N that Earth imploded, to keep the former a secret from Uzi, escaped from whatever the fuck happened in Ep 6 and V sacrificed herself so the rest of them could continue exploring Cabin Fever Labs and not be brutally torn apart by the sentinels.

N’s not having a good time to put it lightly.

He’s in the aftermath of V’s sacrifice and N’s look of just pure despair here says more than I could ever try to put into words.

He’s in shock, he’s concerned and scared and his mind must be working overtime trying to process what just happened.

V may be dead.

Denial or anger or maybe even both comes over him. Even if V and N’s relationship has been messy recently, he still CARES about her and having V sacrifice herself for both his and Uzi’s sake… He just can’t take it.

Impulse takes over as he begins firing at the ruble. V can’t be dead. SHE CAN’T BE DEAD.

He yells at Uzi to use her solver so they can get back V. He starts slashing at the ruble with claws because he needs V with him. He isn’t thinking, he’s just blindly attacking because he NEEDS V.

As he continues acting purely on his emotions, Tessa yells at him to watch it and he turns around to see…

“I… don’t think I s-should. I’m sorry, N…”

N must feel terrible in this moment. In his inconsideration, he hurt Uzi, one of the people he cares the most about. He might already have lost one of his friends and he doesn’t want lose another. He must feel awful.

He tries apologizing, tries deescalating the situation. You can see in his body language here that he’s trying get down to her level, trying to make her feel not uncomfortable with him. He wants to tell her it isn’t her fault, that he lost control of his emotions for a moment and feels deeply sorry for what he just did and-

Tessa interrupts him.

Tessa stops him from trying to talk it out with Uzi. Now, I feel like we all know at this point that this isn’t Tessa. This is Cyn wearing Tessa’s skin pretending to be Tessa and on rewatch this scene hits even harder. At this point in the story, Cyn is trying to regain control of N, either by manipulating him or hacking into his software (as seen by a this).

And to do that, Cyn has to get N alone and isolated from anyone who might try to intervene.

What Cyn is trying to do by not letting N speak to Uzi is that she’s trying to drive a wrench between the two, and if she succeeds, she can have an obedient murder pet that will eat planets with her. Seeing as neither of her plans worked out, she settled on just killing N, thus the whole “why is Cyn after her own murder pet” thing.

I’m getting ahead of myself, back to the scene itself.

This single frame adds so much in such little time its shown. Uzi sees herself bleeding in the reflection of Tessa’s sword, not oil, but blood. As anyone would be in this situation, she’s visibly shocked. Not only does this add another parallel between Doll and Uzi, but it also adds a level of discomfort to Tessa on Uzi’s behalf.

Tessa goes “Uzi, let’s have you sit this one out, eh? Box over there. Robots like boxes, right?” Which is (1. Insensitive and emotionally immature of her. And (2. Cyn trying to get alone with N.

Uzi doesn't want anymore of Tessa’s cryptic bullshit and tries to speak up and is yet again, interrupted by Tessa. This time, she’s speaking solely to N. She wants him to speak.

As you can see, N does not like being abruptly put on the spot. Taking everything prior into account, we can tell that N doesn’t know what to say. Cyn, FOR THE THIRD TIME THIS SCENE, is forcing that wrench harder down into N and Uzi’s relationship.

N is visibly nervous when speaking here. He’s trying to pick his words as carefully as he can under this much stress. He manages to get out “Uzi, there, um, might be some things down here that you don’t want to see.”

Uzi isn’t getting the full picture here. N is hiding something from her, which is terrifying for her. What reason would N have to hide anything from her? And Cabin Fever Labs, possibly the only place where Uzi can get answers, “might have things she doesn’t want to see”? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?

N is definitely freaking out because Uzi is freaking out and N doesn’t want to be responsible for anybody freaking out, especially if it’s Uzi.

N isn’t getting the full picture either because “Tessa” is purposefully not giving it to him.

N tries assuring Uzi that everything’s going to be alright, that they’re not going to hurt her.

“…Hurt me?”

…

Uzi’s solver activates and it summons a null void. The corridor starts caving in. N reaches a hand out for Uzi to take. She backs away.

And that ends one of the most emotional one minute and forty two seconds of my life. Yeah, that’s right, everything mentioned here happened in the span of one minute and forty two seconds!

FUCK

ME

[seitmai]

There had to be some form of warmth that she possessed at some point for Curtis to have been friends with her. But now all you see is stress, and disdain for her life here at this house. Bitterness always coats her face and actions. She slams the door behind her, and Poet looks up at you gasping with a smile before she throws both hands up, “Yay!” “You’re rotten, you know that?” “Tay,” she makes her sweet grabby hands for her plate, and you place her back in the high chair. “Pes!” she’s learning manners, and that’s more than you can say for her horny dad or hateful mother.

Poet is something else hahah

“I liked what I was coming home to,” silence. You can’t respond to that without sounding like a twittering school girl, or a hateful bitch. He sure knows how to lay things on thick, and it just makes you weak. In an alternative life, you can imagine him coming home, and being all excited while you playfully flirt, and still have fun with the kids. You can see him smacking your ass playfully, while the kids are too busy to see their parents are setting up the long foreplay for the night.

A girl can dream 🤭👀

“Probably because I wasn’t enough to make her straight, because being attracted to women is who she is, and it’s easier to blame other people than accept that, and there’s no one at fault here. Tati being in love with a woman shouldn’t hurt anyone. The issue is that it has stalled me from moving on with you. It’s not fair to Monica either. It’s not fair to Poe because this baby knows that while her mom wouldn’t hurt her, she doesn’t want to be a full time part of her life. And I don’t think she enjoys her very much,” you can confirm that. But he already knows.

The situation is actually just really sad for everyone...

You wade the water. Making circles around his body, and he spins right along with you. Looking between you and Poet. “I’m crazy, but this feels right. Playing in the pool with my two favorite girls. Staring at your nipples poking through your bathing suit.” “Curtis!” the bastard laughs as you circle your hands over your chest. “You are holding a baby.” “Yeah,” his voice is menacingly low. And you feel it right to your core. You wade further away from him. Keeping your hands low in the water. It’s wrong, and you know it is. But sometimes a little teasing never hurt anyone. Poet is paying attention too much attention to her dad’s beard. That beautiful face of hair. A face that you would like to ride, and instead you’re going to rub one out alone. Again.

🤭🤭🤭

“You talk to Tati tonight. She can’t hold your feelings hostage forever. And I don’t want to wait on you forever. I’m greedy and I want you right now.”

Valid

“She knows I’m finally falling for someone. She knows that this has been a slow road, because she knows normally, I just fuck and move on. That’s why she chose me,” he pulls your top to cover your body again. “She thought I’d never ask for a divorce.” You swallow deeply. Ignoring the door closing. He wanted to get caught, so he can have a discussion with her. “So are you asking for a divorce?” “You said I have to if I want to be with you,” Curtis stands up, reaching for his daughter, and you hand her off. Letting him walk out of the pool. “And I want to actually try something real for once, so I want to be with you.”

“You’re cheating on me!” He chuckles, pulling Poet out of her high chair, and he holds her close to him. Letting her lay her head against his chest. “No, I’m not. We’re not together. Just legally, and I’m — I’m filing. I’ve been patient, Tat, but you’re living a life, and I’m not. I’ve met an amazing woman, and we can’t even move forward because of this shame of a marriage. We were always supposed to be friends. Things went way too far, and now we’ve even lost our friendship. We’re roommates that share a child.”

I'm glad he is finally being honest and takes the next step👏🏻

“I don’t want to be a mom,” relief floods over her body, and tears break through her polished veneer. She’s been living a lie, and didn’t know how to stop it from spiraling. Gulping, she wipes at her eyes, and shimmies her shoulders. Deep breaths. One. Two. Three. “I’ve got to go.”

I know Tati is a little bit the villain in this story, but I think k right here she deserves a hug. This is a though thing to to admit but a valid feeling, no person should ever feel obligated to become a parent just to fit in some societal role!

Curtis senses her frustration. Can tell that she is irritated, but she smiles. Her smile actually reaches her eyes, and the warmth he loved about her shines through. She really didn’t want to be a mom. “I don’t want Poet to know about you. I mean who you are to her.” “That’s fine. I — I had my tubes tied anyways. I didn’t — she’s not a mistake, but I don’t want kids. I never wanted kids. It’s not in me. Do you hate me?” He shakes his head no, and Tati sighs. “Don’t make her hate me. Either of them. I was ugly this morning."

They are finding their way of peace and are finally able to step in their life paths that they truly want to be on 🫶🏻

Yours and Curtis’ relationship has been teasing, and slightly sexual. Ultimatums about the future, but this is for real. This is the future for a little girl. “What if I don’t want that?” “Then give me this one night, and I’ll back away. Poet needs a mother, and it’s not Tati. I’m not saying you need to adopt her tomorrow. I’m saying she doesn’t talk much, she knows you more than her mother. Her mother is nothing but an entity to her, but you are the woman that takes care of her. I already see her preferring you over her mom. And I want you, but I need you to eventually want her. Or at least see you wanting to be her mother.”

🥹🥹🥹

“But I’m not fucking you. Poet will probably wake up in about twenty minutes. And I think you’re right, date first. But until the date, can you just sleep in the bed with me?” He’s walking backwards, pulling you towards his own bedroom. “Can we do no sex?” “Sweetheart, my cock has been aching to get back inside of you for months, what’s one more night? Or a few days? It’ll be what it’ll have to be, but I can’t have you away from me anymore. And we could get in a quickie, but the next time I’m inside of you, I’m going to take such sweet precious time. Because I know what it’s like to have to live without that sweet cunt, and now, I know what the woman is like.”

This is so cute and just shows that he truly cares about her and their connection and future 🥰

Much Too Fast, Part 5

Summary: it's time for everyone to talk

Pairings: Curtis X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, Curtis and Tati arguing, flashing, sexual tension/frustration, skinny dipping, wet/dry humping, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 6.9K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“And say please,” Poet slams her hands on the high chair, screeching, and you shake your head no. “Poe, you have got to say please,” your voice is still so soft, but the sweet baby slams her hands on the high chair, screaming out no.

“Poet!” Poet looks at Tati, puckering out her bottom lip, looking up at you sympathetically. Tati’s patience with Poet was virtually nonexistent, “I am tired, and I don’t want to listen to this screaming!” Poet lifts her hands up, making grabby hands up at you. Big drops of tears hug her lash line, and she softly whispers please. You didn’t want her to say please because of screaming. But you will hold her when she needs comforting.

Tati massages her temples. Circling her fingers over and over the area, paying you no mind, so you pull Poet out of her high chair. Shushing her as you bounce her around. The rules never seem to make sense when Tati is here. She wants Poet to learn to be independent, but when she’s here she just wants her daughter to be appeased as long as she’s quiet. Whatever it takes to keep her from making noise.

“Tati?”

“What?” You hold Poet even tighter at her mom’s harsh word. She never looks at you; just stays preoccupied with nursing her tender head.

“Can I ask you a question?” A question made things seem mild. You had so many questions to ask her, and none of which involved her daughter. You second guess this conversation because it truly wasn’t any of your business, but Curtis had made it your business. Over and over again he has made it your business because he is too persistent and needy, and dammit, you’re cracking.

Her arms slam on the table, and she glares at you. Her beady perfectly lines eyes bore holes into yours for daring to try and talk to her. For someone who’s head hurts, she’s being painfully noisy with that slap on the wood. She looks so irritated that you’re talking to her that you nearly change your mind. “Are you wanting a raise or something?”

“No.”

“No? Hmm, well, fine, I’ll give you a raise,” now she massages the bridge of her nose, ignoring you yet again. So you clear your throat, “What is it now?”

“My questions,” she moves her hand from her nose, glaring at you again. Clearly multiple questions isn’t something she wants to entertain. “I’m sorry, it’s just one question,” why did you fear her? Was it because she held a lot in her hands? “Umm, it’s probably none of my business.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t ask it. Grace, can you just spit it out. I really don’t have time for this. I have a headache, and I’m tired, and ready to take a nap,” that’s what she’s always doing here. You’re aware that you’re the nanny, but who was the mother?

“I’m very confused with yours and Curtis’ dynamics and relationship.”

Tati snorts, shaking her head. Her manicured fingers roll over the table before she looks at them like she’s bored. “That isn’t a question. But I should have figured. My husband is a very traditionally attractive man. But he’s stunted,” what a weird fucking thing to say about that man that spends more time with her daughter than she does. “I know there’s a lot of things about him that you may find attractive, but you deserve better.”

That took a turn. She didn’t know that you knew about her not even finding Curtis attractive sexually. She didn’t know that you knew that she had another life with a woman. You almost have a feeling she’s in love with that woman, and you’re falling for Curtis, but didn’t feel comfortable with this predicament. You didn’t want to share, you wanted him all to yourself. And Poet.

“No, I don’t love that man,” rude. There’s something that sits so grossly in your stomach about ‘that man’. That is the father of her beautiful daughter. And one she didn’t spend much time with. One that was tapping on your arm, and smiling up at you. “Curtis and I have never even been in love. This was a mistake. I got to go,” she pushes her chair back, standing abruptly before those stilettos click out of the kitchen.

There had to be some form of warmth that she possessed at some point for Curtis to have been friends with her. But now all you see is stress, and disdain for her life here at this house. Bitterness always coats her face and actions. She slams the door behind her, and Poet looks up at you gasping with a smile before she throws both hands up, “Yay!”

“You’re rotten, you know that?”

“Yep. Uh!” She looks out the back door, and to the pool. She loves swimming and spending the days outside. She’d swim in her float or your arms all day. Tati didn’t give you any clear indications on where you were with things. She didn’t give much at all other than she wasn’t in love, and Curtis wasn’t worth the time for you. And you didn’t believe that at all. You see how he loves his daughter, and know he has so much more love to give to a partner.

There is a part of you that wants to take Tati’s advice because this is a complete mess. It’s a disaster area. But you know what you feel when you’re with him. You know the way he looks at you, and smiles at you. And you love his daughter. This is all much too fast, and you didn’t know how to slam the breaks on it, but maybe you weren’t meant to.

Tati gave you absolutely no answers other than she didn’t love Curtis. She might not have told you that they didn’t have sex, but judging by her answers, you doubt she does anything with Curtis. But…dammit, you feel so conflicted. An ache sits in your stomach because you are too attached. You want him, and Poet, and want to go on a date, and not be hidden out here while she galivants around the world with her girlfriend. You want to be proud to be with Curtis.

“Poe Poe, if you eat your breakfast, we can go swimming, okay?”

“Tay,” she makes her sweet grabby hands for her plate, and you place her back in the high chair. “Pes!” she’s learning manners, and that’s more than you can say for her horny dad or hateful mother.

Tati’s car is in the garage. Your car is here. And there’s a very cute distinctive giggle coming from the pool. His kryptonite. And now you’ve brought his daughter into it. He sighs, walking out of the garage and to the back of the house. Stopping at the fence to stare at you slightly splashing Poet just to make her giggle.

Her chunky little legs kick about, causing her tube to spin around, and then you pick her up out of the tube. You lift her above your head, fully standing up out of water, and his mouth falls open. Poet giggles down at you, as streams of water flow down your curves. You’re too sexy to be holding his daughter.

And then you squat back down into the water, taking Poet with you, and she splashes around. Continuing to giggle, and smile up at you. She crashes her mouth into you kissing your jawline. Having a time of her life in the dreaded pool. The bane of his existence. This is bad. Great, and amazing. But bad. Too many feelings and emotions course through his bloodstream. Warmth and passionate heat.

He looks down at his pants, taking a deep breath, and telling himself that he would really like to join in the family swimming time, so he needs to calm down. Inhale and exhale. Relax, and get your fucking mind out of the gutter. Who knew he had a goddamn breeding kink because all he can think about is enjoying fucking a baby into you. Not accidentally, but pumping you full of him every night until it stuck. He’s a disgusting man.

Once he’s centered himself, he slings the gate open, and Poet screams at him, “Dada!”

“Hey, baby. Do you mind if I change and come swim with you and Grace?”

“Yay!”

“I was wondering when you were going to come inside the gate, instead of lingering out there watching us,” his tongue slowly exits his mouth, and he traces his luscious bottom lip with it. Pulling the lip back in his mouth where he bites on it. Smirking and shrugging while walking to his bedroom. “He’s a menace,” a fucking menace that makes you squeeze your thighs together, and regulate your breathing because you’re holding a baby, and can’t do anything about the need to touch and rub on him.

Poet giggles, blowing raspberries and points all over the pool. Telling you, in her way, where she wants to swim to. You ferry her around the pool, letting her splash along the way. The happiest baby you’ve ever met, and when she playfully gasps, and looks towards her dad’s room, that smile gets even bigger.

Curtis and his hairy tits jog to the diving board, and he dives it. Swimming under water towards you, and you back away, “Dada go?” Poet looks at the dark figure that travels in the water, until he pops up right in front of her face. He grabs onto your hips, keeping you in place, and she begs for him to hold her. “Dada!”

“Hey, baby girl. Come ‘ere,” reaching for her he makes sure to give your side more than too much of a touch. He skims his hands from your hips up your side, and you bite back a whimper. That devilish grin pops up as he stares so intently at you. “What have you and Grace been doing today? Just being water babies?” She smiles, laughing up at him.

“You got home early.”

“I liked what I was coming home to,” silence. You can’t respond to that without sounding like a twittering school girl, or a hateful bitch. He sure knows how to lay things on thick, and it just makes you weak. In an alternative life, you can imagine him coming home, and being all excited while you playfully flirt, and still have fun with the kids. You can see him smacking your ass playfully, while the kids are too busy to see their parents are setting up the long foreplay for the night.

Having hours of buildup, until each and every one of the kids are asleep, and Curtis and you lock the door, and have fun with each other’s bodies. It seems so easy, and yet this situation is a mess. Tati at least let you know that there aren't any lingering feelings with Curtis.

“I spoke with your wife today,” you begin. Curtis dips his mouth underwater, pretending to play with Poet, but he’s watching you. Too much. “She confirmed about not having any feelings. But she didn’t seem to think too highly of you, and that makes me confused.”

“Probably because I wasn’t enough to make her straight, because being attracted to women is who she is, and it’s easier to blame other people than accept that, and there’s no one at fault here. Tati being in love with a woman shouldn’t hurt anyone. The issue is that it has stalled me from moving on with you. It’s not fair to Monica either. It’s not fair to Poe because this baby knows that while her mom wouldn’t hurt her, she doesn’t want to be a full time part of her life. And I don’t think she enjoys her very much,” you can confirm that. But he already knows.

You wade the water. Making circles around his body, and he spins right along with you. Looking between you and Poet. “I’m crazy, but this feels right. Playing in the pool with my two favorite girls. Staring at your nipples poking through your bathing suit.”

“Curtis!” the bastard laughs as you circle your hands over your chest. “You are holding a baby.”

“She can’t really talk now.”

“Is all our conversations going to end up in the perverted realm of things?” Is there more than this burning desire to just fuck each other? Or is the need to have each other shadowing anything else?

“No,” you raise your eyebrows in a challenge. “No, but I think sex should be fun. I think that life is too serious, and why can’t I shamelessly flirt with a girl I find attractive?” That’s not flirting, and he knows it. That is being a horny devil.

“I don’t want that serious of a relationship with someone. I’ve done the five star restaurants, and the dinners with family and it’s this big ordeal. I don’t want that. I want to have fun. I want to be able to joke with you,” that boyish grin fades a moment. “This house is beautiful, and perfect in its way, but I don’t need this. I do like this pool.”

“Do you?” You couldn’t tell he liked it at all…

“Yeah,” his voice is menacingly low. And you feel it right to your core. You wade further away from him. Keeping your hands low in the water. It’s wrong, and you know it is. But sometimes a little teasing never hurt anyone. Poet is paying attention too much attention to her dad’s beard. That beautiful face of hair. A face that you would like to ride, and instead you’re going to rub one out alone. Again.

You grab a side of the gusset of your panties, moving it to the side. But you think twice about it, and pull it back to cover yourself. Had he not had that sweet baby in his arms, you would have asked him to look under the water. He makes you want to sin in too many ways.

“It’s hard to try and figure out what is acceptable when there’s a baby between us. But you can try that again tonight. When you meet me out here after Poet’s put to bed,” he stalks towards the shallow end of the pool. Backing you up. Up. And up, until you collapse on the stairs. “I’d really like to see what I’ve been missing. Without touching that is.”

“On one condition,” your voice is so hoarse, and you try to keep some decency. You’re too weak when it comes ot him.

“Anything.”

“You talk to Tati tonight. She can’t hold your feelings hostage forever. And I don’t want to wait on you forever. I’m greedy and I want you right now.”

Poet splashes and splashes, reaching towards you before Curtis relinquishes her into your arms. “What if…what if I talk to her, and she doesn’t like my ultimatum? Because I think she knows.”

“Knows what?” You know what time it is. If Tati is going to be here, she’s already here, and about to have her takeout delivered. She could already be walking to the door. Maybe she’s peeked outside the window, wondering what the noise was. Right now you didn’t care. You’re willing to break all the rules for just a kiss. Just a chance of normalcy for a moment.

You know exactly what he’s talking about as he gets closer. Looming over you with that giant stature, and ignoring Poet pulling down your top and exposing yourself. Curtis puts his nose right on yours, and you forget how to breathe. Have to focus on the rise and fall of his chest because you’re breathing is irregular.

“She knows I’m finally falling for someone. She knows that this has been a slow road, because she knows normally, I just fuck and move on. That’s why she chose me,” he pulls your top to cover your body again. “She thought I’d never ask for a divorce.”

You swallow deeply. Ignoring the door closing. He wanted to get caught, so he can have a discussion with her. “So are you asking for a divorce?”

“You said I have to if I want to be with you,” Curtis stands up, reaching for his daughter, and you hand her off. Letting him walk out of the pool. “And I want to actually try something real for once, so I want to be with you.”

You let out a long breath. Watching as he walks into his room with Poet. Surely going to dry both of them off, and dress so they can join Tati for dinner. Your chest heaves as you let the intensity of that moment wash over you. It leaves you in such a weird spot because Tati is your employer. And here you just were ready to flash her husband your cunt, while he held her daughter. You are losing all self control and self respect for yourself.

Curtis is making you crazy. Imagining that you and him were a normal couple that didn’t start off as a stranger fucking you within an inch of your life. What were you doing? You were risking everything. All of your morals. Ready to throw everything away for him. For this. To make this thing work. What the fuck? How was Tati even going to respond to that?

Whether you’re the one with Curtis or — you hate to think about it being someone else, but either way, it wasn’t fair. He deserves the chance at someone more than sex. And he’s somehow chosen you, and it makes you lightheaded. You’re horny and pent up as fuck. But you like him. Like his daughter, and in order for this to work, you do need to show some decorum and just wait.

Sighing, you get up out of the pool yourself. You need food. Probably alcohol. But definitely food. And to fuck yourself, so you’re not so fucking horny when you meet Curtis at the pool when the lights go outside. That pool is an aphrodisiac. You get in it and you need body parts touching. Ugh! Why is this so hard to not be such a slut with him? You’re horny. You’re just horny. It has nothing to do with actually having feelings for him.

Nope. Not you. Food. Come. Alcohol. Make yourself come again? How many times would it take so you’re not ready to jump on top of Curtis and ride him like your life depended on it? Alcohol. Just a little, not a lot. You can do this. You and Curtis were going to talk, and see where this goes. That’s all. That’s absolutely all you were going to do. Yep.

Curtis’ fingers roll on the table, and he looks at Poet. Then at the table. Then his Chinese takeout. Then his chopsticks. Then back to Poet. Everywhere but his ‘wife’. And Tati just glares at him. Chewing her food slowly, and being too aggressive with the chopsticks.

Watching the coward as he blatantly ignores her. After the conversation with you this morning, she could tell you wanted to fuck her husband. And judging by the two of you in the pool, he wanted to fuck you, too. Asshole. How dare he dishonor the marriage like that. He didn’t care about how it made her look. He just needs to get his dick wet.

She knows she’s being ridiculous, and Curtis knows about Monica. He’s met Monica. Actually likes her. But he is sneaking behind her back. He’s probably snuck right into that pool house, and fucked you already. Walking around, and pretending that he’s never touched you. Jerk. He’s such a pig headed man.

She lays her chopsticks on the side of her bowl, places her elbows on the table, and then rests her chin on her arms. That sickeningly sweet business smile spreads over her face, but lacks any warmth. “How long have you been fucking the nanny?”

Curtis doesn’t look away from Poet at first. He gives her another bite of food before his attention goes back to Tati, “Let’s not do this in front of our daughter.”

“Oh, I know she’s our daughter. I carried her for nine fucking months, because you couldn’t pull out properly.”

“And now you fuck Monica.”

“And you’re fucking that girl!” Tati’s voice is shrill as she losing control, but Curtis’ remains collected.

“Do not call her a girl! And, no. I’m not fucking her. I have fucked her,” Tati gasps, causing Curtis’ eyes to roll in the back of her head. “Yes, Tati, it was before I even knew her. It was supposed to be a one night stand with a girl that picked me up on the side of the road.”

“You’re lucky to be alive! Poet could have lost her father, and then…”

“You’d have to actually be a mother?” Her hand slams on the table, and Curtis stands up quickly when Poet’s lip puckers out, “We’re done with this conversation since you can’t be an adult.”

“You’re cheating on me!” He chuckles, pulling Poet out of her high chair, and he holds her close to him. Letting her lay her head against his chest.

“No, I’m not. We’re not together. Just legally, and I’m — I’m filing. I’ve been patient, Tat, but you’re living a life, and I’m not. I’ve met an amazing woman, and we can’t even move forward because of this shame of a marriage. We were always supposed to be friends. Things went way too far, and now we’ve even lost our friendship. We’re roommates that share a child.”

Tati worries her lip, something she only did during deep thought, so it gives Curtis enough reason to sit down. She’s at least considering his words. He waits on her to work through everything, as long as she wasn’t raising her voice and causing Poet distress, he could be here. He reaches over to his daughter’s plate, grabbing her something to nibble on. He smiles at her, as she gnaws on her dinner..

“Tater tot.”

“Don’t call me that,” her voice is short, but it doesn’t raise, and her eyes linger on the immaculate table. “I thought we had a deal?” Tati being an only child is used to having things her way. Everything always worked out for her.

“That I stay married to you forever, when a woman that I may be in love with can never be my wife? You thought I was forever going to be slut, so that’s why you thought this stupid agreement would work forever. How does Monica feel about being your dirty secret?”

“I love her,” the confidence Tati exudes disappears, and her shoulders slump. He sounds just like Monica.

“Not enough. You roam around the world on your little vacations, but she doesn’t go to family dinners. She doesn’t have a relationship with Poet, and I told her she should,” Tati’s nose scrunches up, shaking her head no. “Can you at least say it?” She shakes her head no faster. Covering her eyes with her hand. “Tati. Just tell me, and we can move forward. Your therapist said you have to admit it.”

“I sound like a terrible person,” no, right now she sounds like a terrible person. Curtis wouldn’t hold those words against her.

“It’s only terrible if we continue this dance. I can take care of her,” Tati whispers something, but Curtis doesn’t hear her. “Tati, say it. Step one.”

“I love her in my way.”

“I know you do.”

“I’d never hurt her.”

“I have never thought you would.”

“Does,” Tati sniffles, looking up at Curtis instead of the table. Glancing at her daughter with a smile, “Does she want kids?”

“I’ve never really asked. I think so,” he knows you do. You’re a perfect mom, and you deserve a child’s firsts.

“You know I can’t just tell my parents?” Curtis shrugs. He didn’t care what she told her parents, he wanted her to tell him. “You know, that your life will forever be altered?”

“It’s been that way since she was born,” Curtis made all the changes in having a child, while she didn’t make any.

“I don’t want to be a mom,” relief floods over her body, and tears break through her polished veneer. She’s been living a lie, and didn’t know how to stop it from spiraling. Gulping, she wipes at her eyes, and shimmies her shoulders. Deep breaths. One. Two. Three. “I’ve got to go.”

“Tati?”

“Just…I don’t care, just don’t go flaunting her around town. And I won’t sign my rights over until you’re married to someone I approve of. You can have sole custody like we discussed. But…I don’t want anyone to know before I’m ready. I’m going over to Monica’s. Have the fucking house,” her heels start to click out the door, but Curtis clears his throat.

“I’ll give you two weeks,” Her mouth drops open. She isn’t usd to negotiations, especially with him. He always gave her what she wanted. “I’m done waiting, Tati. Poet will be one in three weeks. You’re not doing anyone any favors by avoiding talking to your parents. And if they have a problem with who you truly are in love with, that’s on them. You will always have me and Poet, and you can be aunt Tati.”

Curtis senses her frustration. Can tell that she is irritated, but she smiles. Her smile actually reaches her eyes, and the warmth he loved about her shines through. She really didn’t want to be a mom. “I don’t want Poet to know about you. I mean who you are to her.”

“That’s fine. I — I had my tubes tied anyways. I didn’t — she’s not a mistake, but I don’t want kids. I never wanted kids. It’s not in me. Do you hate me?” He shakes his head no, and Tati sighs. “Don’t make her hate me. Either of them. I was ugly this morning.”

“And then you ran away.”

“It’s what I do best with this situation. But I don’t run from Monica. I run to her,” Curtis silently thanks her. He knows it’s been a long time, and hard work with her therapist to say all of that. Everything she said, all that she admitted to.

“I’m proud of you, Tater Tot.”

“I said don’t call me that,” Tati smiles as she walks towards the front door. Leaving a house that was never her home. Leaving a marriage that she never wanted, a daughter she loved, but didn’t need. A daughter that she is okay to step back and not raise. Give up all that responsibility to Curtis and whatever woman he chose as Poet’s mom. And she’d sign everything away. Let his wife adopt her and Poet become hers.

And for once, she’s not running away. She’s finally going home.

The house is eerily quiet. Even in the pool house, the only thing you hear is your racing heart. Having to look into the mirror to see if you can see it beating out of your chest. Thankfully, it isn’t, but your chest heaves with bated anticipation. Wrapping a towel around your body, you sit and wait like a fool in love. With the blinds open, you stare at the lit up pool, waiting. You won’t be the first one out there, even if you’re staring into that water like it can answer your questions.

You have bared enough of yourself recently, and will soon physically do that, but you need Curtis to be the one to lose control this time. Need him to tell you what you deserve to hear. At nine o’clock on the dot Curtis emerges from his bedroom. He looks towards the pool house, before going to the diving board, and diving in.

He comes up on the other end of the pool, and sits at the table. Resting his elbows on the tile before holding his head in contemplation. Water drips down his face, and you want to lick him clean. No. No. One thing at a time. And with how you’re dressed, you’re already going to cause him to have a heart attack. Deep breaths.

You step out of the pool house, but his head remains in his palms. You walk right up to the steps, and drop your towel. Making your way into the pool too slowly. Your chest is fully submerged when Curtis lifts up. His mouth in that crooked cocky smirk when he wiggles two fingers to you. Beckoning you to come closer, and you shake your head no.

“Earlier today you were trying to show me your pussy, and now you won’t let me see your naked body?” His head tilts to the side. He’s always an observant one, especially when it comes to your body.

“It was inappropriate at the time,” he nods his head as he slides out of the chair, “You stay over there,” if he comes any closer, you’ll be begging him to lift you onto his cock.

“Why?”

“If you want me closer to you, tell me how the conversation with Tati went,” Curtis sighs. He settles back into the chair, and faces towards you. His hands slide up and down his thighs, and his legs spread ever so slightly. “That bad?”

“It wasn’t bad. She’s fighting a lot. But I told her essentially I didn’t care, and gave her a time frame of two weeks, and I’m filing for divorce,” you take a step closer, staying squatted in the pool. “Put your arms down,” you shake your head no again, and he playfully growls.

“She left,” another step forward. “She’s going to stay at Monica’s tonight. You know when we bought this house, she jokingly said that if we ever divorced, she knew I would keep Poet, so I could just have it. She’ll give me full custody. But I need to be honest with you, so if you please give me a little peek,” he’s cheeky. Like showing yourself is going to make this any better.

You drop both arms from around your chest, and Curtis gets even more comfortable. Leaning back in the chair. “Stand up,” you shake your head no again. He wanted a little peek. “You’re frustrating tonight.”

“And you’re admitting to needing to see my tits to tell me this?”

“Yes. It relaxes me,” at least he’s honest. You stand up out of the water. Streams of water fall over your breasts, dripping down your hardened nipples before you dip back into the water. “You are a tease. Go up the stairs, and spread your legs.”

“The only person that will be spreading my legs will be you,” he palms his crotch, groaning. “Curtis,” you warn. He could have it all. Well. Maybe. Maybe not tonight.

“Tati doesn’t want to be a mom, and I will gladly take that off her hands. But…I don’t date to have someone in my life. I date for someone to be in hers, too, and maybe eventually, no time soon, adoption. I usually don’t date. In fact, I told Tati that’s why she went along with whatever childish game this was. Because she never saw me settling down. She thought I was always going to be fucking women at their places.”

“Theirs?” You cock up an eyebrow. Of course Curtis would be into casual sex. He slept with you after knowing you for a couple of hours. But keeping things at their places, keeps them away from his home. His safe space.

“I never bring women into my life. And I’m just a dick in theirs. I didn’t care to be more than that. Because I don’t want to share my daughter with them. Stand up all the way,” you do without hesitation, but keep your arms around your chest, “Now walk closer to me, I need to see you better,” you do. It’s not a slow crawl, it’s a normal speed. But the time just drags on as his eyes roam over your drenched body.

He stands, meeting you halfway, and his hands grab onto your hips. Sliding back behind your back as he pulls you closer, and presses your body against his. Your skin lights on fire at the feeling of his body against yours. All hard lines, and even harder cock pressing against you, and wanting to be free, “And yet, I don’t mind sharing Poet with you.”

“This is too soon,” is it? Is it too soon? Or are you too scared?

“I know, and I still can’t stop it. I don’t know how. And I don’t want to. I don’t want to be casual with you. I never saw Tati making this place her home, and she won’t be pretending to anymore. But I need to know if you see yourself becoming Poet’s mother in the future. Tati wants to be an aunt, so…” dizzy. There’s no other word than that. Whiplash maybe. But you don’t want it to be.

Yours and Curtis’ relationship has been teasing, and slightly sexual. Ultimatums about the future, but this is for real. This is the future for a little girl. “What if I don’t want that?”

“Then give me this one night, and I’ll back away. Poet needs a mother, and it’s not Tati. I’m not saying you need to adopt her tomorrow. I’m saying she doesn’t talk much, she knows you more than her mother. Her mother is nothing but an entity to her, but you are the woman that takes care of her. I already see her preferring you over her mom. And I want you, but I need you to eventually want her. Or at least see you wanting to be her mother.”

Wiggling your arms off your chest, you sink a hand low, and cup his bulge. “Do you always get horny thinking about a future with me?”

“Everything about you makes me horny. Thinking about you pregnant, seeing you make supper, watching you sneak to Poet’s room to kiss her goodnight, watching you watching me. Everything you do is sexual to me.”

You back his body up to the chair, pushing him down onto the seat before you climb in his lap. Straddling his body while you grind on him. His cock throbs on your core, and you’ve never wanted anything more than for him to sink into you. But if you’re to take things slow, you need to just get this pent up energy out, “We’re not teenagers.”

“And we’re taking this slow,” you mewl. Staring at Curtis through your lashes.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not about us anymore, is it?” He groans again. Letting his head fall back on his shoulders as he looks at the stars. Staring at you was like staring at a dream that he can’t make a reality, “Was it ever about just us?”

“That night in the hotel I was not thinking about my daughter as I was fucking you, no.”

“You never thought you’d see me again?” It’s something you’ve pondered many times. Because you never thought you’d see him again. Even if he left his card. He was to be a cock for pleasure that night. And now you see a relationship.

He sits up, shaking his head no. His eyes move over your body as you work his aching cock. This clearly isn’t enough for him, and sex right now seems rushing. But you need something. You’re dying inside. You need him, but your relationship thus far has been built on forbidden romance and sex.

“And now I can’t imagine not seeing you again,” you move faster, undulating your hips with so much enthusiasm. Writhing over him, and he’s mesmerized. It’s like a beautiful little dance that you do just for him. A private performance only for his eyes. A girl he knows has this filthy streak, but you are the perfect balance of lady and freak.

You are his perfect match. A friend, a lover, a fucking porn star with the way you’re moaning, the possible mom to his daughter, his best friend, his everything. A mate for him in all walks of life. Getting off on dry humping him in the pool and it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Well…he has been inside you, but this sexiness is different.

You’re frustrated, so you use him. “The tension is clouding our judgment, we — we — we need this.”

“Aw, is my little saving Grace getting off on this?” You nod your head yes, moving fast. “There’s a good girl. Ride me like you own me,” you move hard and fast over him. Leaning forward to nip and kiss on his neck. Taking out your frustrations on his freckled sensitive skin. “Because you do.”

You bite on his neck delicately, and give him a hard suck, while he bucks up his hips, meeting you while he blows his load into the water. Your movements slow until you’re just panting on top of him. “You know you do. Do you feel better now?”

“Yes.”

“So now what?”

“You can take me on a date on your bike. You’re the father, so you’re going to have to figure out a babysitter,” you move away from his neck, and smile at him. His eyes freely roam over your heaving chest. With a smirk, you lean back. Practically laying back on his legs so you spread your own, “You can look, but you can’t touch just yet.”

“But she’s swollen,” he says looking into the water. “And she’s blurry,” he starts to lift up your bottom half, but you sit up straight, shaking a finger in his face. “That’s not fair!”

“Proper date. And then we’ll see how I feel about something more serious with you.”

“You want it,” he teases as you saunter towards the stairs of the pool. You bend over to pick your towel up, but don’t wrap it around you before walking towards the pool house. “Can you sleep in the bed with me?”

“Find us a sitter first!” You scream over your shoulder. It’s getting harder and harder to walk away from him. Almost impossible to tell him no, while you’re dying to let him take you where he wants to go. You want him. You want everything that comes with him, but this is moving too fast.

Right?

You pace back and forth in your pool house, wrapping the towel around your body because you seem so cold. Your house feels miles away from him now. Any distance between you and Curtis feels too far away. He’s leaving her. He’s leaving his wife. You have spent months avoiding the thing and person you want, and it’s him. It’s a life with him and his daughter. It’s crazy. Absurd, and still you’re walking towards the door. Holding your hand over the handle, and then freezing.

Is it worth the risk now? Have you tortured yourself and waited long enough?

You have. Jerking the door open, you stand transfixed in the doorway, staring up at the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He couldn’t wait either. Meeting you at your door because he was needy for more. His azure eyes look more soft than predatory, “I don’t want to be too forward, but I don’t want you in the pool house. You seem so…”

”Far away?” He nods, holding his hand up for you to take. Glancing down, you grab the appendage, and pull him close to your chest.

“But I’m not fucking you. Poet will probably wake up in about twenty minutes. And I think you’re right, date first. But until the date, can you just sleep in the bed with me?”

He’s walking backwards, pulling you towards his own bedroom. “Can we do no sex?”

“Sweetheart, my cock has been aching to get back inside of you for months, what’s one more night? Or a few days? It’ll be what it’ll have to be, but I can’t have you away from me anymore. And we could get in a quickie, but the next time I’m inside of you, I’m going to take such sweet precious time. Because I know what it’s like to have to live without that sweet cunt, and now, I know what the woman is like.”

It’d have to wait. You’d have to wait. You’ve made it this far. He was worth it. A crazy night of picking up a man on the side of the road has led you to this incredible man with the sweetest daughter, and the possibility of forever.

“I think we’ll manage until our date. Should I warn you I sleep naked?”

“No. Absolutely not. You’re keeping those tits, and that ass covered, or I’m sucking on something until Poet wakes up.”

“Wanna bet?” You squeal, dropping his hand before running towards his door. Curtis rolls his eyes before chasing you. A playfully little romp around the yard to get out any extra annoying butterflies.

“I’m sucking or eating something if you sleep naked, you make your choice.”

“We’re sleeping!”

“Then all of that,” his hands sway over your body, “Has got to be covered,” you were only teasing. But seeing him having fun about sex sends a divine feeling of comfort all over your body. Sex shouldn’t just sweep you off your feet, it should be fun, playful, and wet, and passionate, but still fun.

“Deal. After the first date, I’m sleeping naked.”

“And I’ll fuck you asleep, and fuck you in your sleep,” he winks, walking into the room before you, “Come on, my lady. Let’s cuddle until the baby awakes. No touching. Just cuddling,” you can do that. And you look forward to it. All night. Every night.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@slowdownbeforeyouregretit @rogersbarber @evelineangel66 @steviebbboi

[dilys-min]

Kalopsia

Pairing: Yandere!Blade × Reader

Warnings: Yandere, Unhealthy relationship, Imprisionment, etc.

Word counts: ~ 800 words

You’ve always loved Blade’s swordsmanship.

Whenever he wields the sword, each strike and swing is done in ways which could only be sharpened by years if not centuries of experience, as though the art of combat is deeply engraved in the essence of his soul. Watching him fight has never failed to leave you in awe. Glints of gold and red from the cracked sword would fly disorientedly, painting a granter picture of the dark haired man, captivating those who come across it. You struggle to hold a sword upright, let alone trying to swing it, while Blade, being more evidently effortless to do it, is patient enough to be your mentor (after a lot of consistent begging on your part and blunt rejections from his side, of course). However, your apprenticeship ended when you somehow managed to injure yourself under his supervision. It felt surreal to watch him fight, facile but meticulous nonetheless. 

You have always loved Blade’s swordsmanship, just until you see yourself at the receiving end of it.

For someone who has such a sharp sense in fighting, Blade can be surprisingly dense in other matters, especially when it comes to technology or romance. How could a person fully aware of the sharpness of his sword while remaining painfully oblivious to how lethal his love can get? This remains as a conundrum to you as you find yourself becoming the focus of Blade’s orbit. And like a star, his presence never leaves your eyesight, and yet, he never makes an attempt to draw close to you. 

“Bladie might seem crude but he is actually far softer than he would like to admit. Don’t worry, dear. Everything will be in fate’s favor”

Kafka had said that with a tone nonchalant enough to make you doubt the genuity of which.

Now, looking back at it, you cannot help but wonder if she had foreseen this turn of event. Being a devoted follower of Yaoshi, like many others, you had prayed and was granted the ability to heal others, to relieve their pain. Still, how could you fix someone who have already been disintegrated and rebuilded far too many times? Blade is someone who has got used to being broken down and he knows that when you are broken into pieces, you would never recover fully, some small parts of you will be forever lost to the raging mara insides, for better or worse. Therefore, he latches onto you, hoping that some pieces of you would suffice for what he lost. Maybe that is what Kafka has seen. And yet, you convince yourself to believe otherwise but for whose sake, you wonder.

 You cannot fathom how much you have come to hate Blade’s swordsmanship.

.

.

Captivity could do so much to one’s mind and you could already feel its claws at the back of your mind. Days after days spent cooped up in the four walls of your room, staring through the glass panel that separated you from the universe. How long had you been on this ship? Weeks… or months? Which star out of thousands if not endless of star systems out there is your home? The past few hours had been you screaming and crying with Blade standing at the doorway. 

“Why can’t you just let me go, Blade? What quality do I have that make you deem it fair to pluck me out of my life?”

“I cannot guarantee that my answer will satisfy you.” His expression changed for a moment, fleeting but not go unnoticed

“In my wrenching existence, you are the one that makes everything more worthwhile. This is what I could do in order to prevent you from getting hurt.”. Both of you know that was a lie. Everything has always been more to his whims than yours, though he refused to believe it. Had it not been for his self restraint, his mara might have devoured you whole.

“So you think it is better to let me rot in the dark than to lead a normal life?”. Your voice was filled with bitterness; tears were rolling down your cheeks and your eyes were puffy. You couldn’t even imagine what you must have looked like anymore. 

“I can give you anything else but what you truly desire… I cannot give”. 

As you looked into the eyes that you once did with such loving intent, there was only sorrow, but never regret for what he had done. You would claw those scarlet irises out of his socket if it meant that he would feel a modicum of your affliction. Nevertheless, knowing Blade, he would gladly let you do just that.

At that, you could only sob in response.

.

.

After everything, you have realized Blade’s swordsmanship was never glamorous nor scrupulous as you elucidate it to be, you have just been at his mercy from the start, spared from the sharp end of his sword; and that was truly the cruelest atrocity Blade is capable of.

[misahyochaeng]

"À Contretemps"

Jihyo x Fem!Reader

Chapter 6-(?)

tw: angst, ceo!jihyo x model!reader, slight momo x reader/ a bit of fluff with momo, violence, blood, arguments.

Other chapters:

—

The vibration of your phone woke you, the buzzing so incessant that, for a moment, you thought it was an alarm. Groaning, you fumbled blindly on the nightstand until your fingers found the device. Blinking against the brightness of the screen, you saw a string of missed calls and unread messages

Jihyo.

Her name filled nearly every notification. You sighed heavily, declining the incoming call, but the buzzing continued. With no reprieve, you answered, your voice groggy and laced with irritation. “What?”

Her voice cut through the silence like a knife, sharp and loud. “Where the hell are you?”

You rubbed your temple, closing your eyes. “Why do you care?”

“Don’t give me that!” Jihyo’s tone was clipped, words laced with frustration. “Do you know how many times I’ve called you? How worried I’ve been? Just—just tell me where you are!”

You scoffed, leaning back against the headboard. “I’m fine. Go back to bed, Jihyo. It’s none of your business.”

The silence on her end was deafening for a second before it erupted into more yelling. “It is my business, Y/N! Stop acting like a child and tell me where you are—right now!”

Your grip tightened on the phone, her words gnawing at your patience. “Why do you even care?” you snapped, your voice rising. “You don’t—” Her shout interrupted you, loud and sudden enough to make you flinch. “Because I do! I—”

Click. You hung up, letting the phone fall onto the bed as you buried your face in Momo’s pillow. Her scent lingered faintly—something sweet and floral, comforting even in the storm raging within you. You inhaled deeply, trying to quiet your thoughts, but the tension in your chest refused to fade.

Some time later, the soft creak of the bedroom door pulled you from your restless state. You didn’t lift your head, only listening as light footsteps approached. The mattress shifted as Momo slid in beside you, her arms slipping around your waist. Her face pressed against your back, and her warmth seeped into you like sunlight on a cold day.

“Just sleep,” she murmured softly, her voice barely audible. You didn’t reply, letting the comfort of her presence lull you into a fragile calm.

---

A loud, aggressive knock shattered the quiet.

You bolted upright, heart racing. Momo groaned, half-asleep, as she dragged herself out of bed. “Stay here,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes as she shuffled toward the door.

You stayed frozen in place, straining to hear the exchange. The door creaked open, followed by hushed voices—and then, suddenly, the sharp sound of a slap. Your stomach twisted as Momo’s pained cry echoed through the apartment.

You jumped out of bed, rushing toward the commotion. Rounding the corner, you saw Momo on the floor, clutching her face, her white shirt stained with blood. Tears streaked her cheeks, her nose dripping red. And there was Jihyo, standing over her, chest heaving with rage.

“Where the fuck is she?” Jihyo yelled, grabbing Momo’s collar. “Stop!” you screamed, shoving Jihyo away. You dropped to your knees beside Momo, your hands trembling as you cupped her bruised face. “Oh my god, Momo, are you okay?”

Her tear-filled eyes met yours, but she said nothing, her lips quivering. “Y/N, don’t—” Jihyo’s voice broke behind you, but you shot her a glare over your shoulder.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” you shouted, voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. Jihyo’s expression hardened. “What’s wrong with me? What about you? Running off like this and not answering my calls?”

Your laugh came bitter and shaky. “So that gives you the right to storm in here and hurt my best friend, my manager? Are you insane?”

She crossed her arms. “I tracked your phone because I was worried! Do you even understand the position you’re putting us in?” You stared at her in disbelief. “You tracked me? Do you hear yourself right now? This is psycho!”

Jihyo took a step closer. “You’ve been acting so out of control! And now I find you here, with her of all people?” She gestured toward Momo. “What is that supposed to mean?” you snapped, standing to face her.

“Don’t play dumb!” Jihyo’s voice rose. “The way she looks at you, the necklace—it’s obvious!”

Your anger boiled over. “You seriously think I gave her that necklace? God, Jihyo, I’m so tired of this! Why can’t you just trust me? She’s my manager, that’s her job!” you mocked the same words she told you. Her jaw tightened, but her expression wavered.

“I thought things were getting better between us,” you said, your voice trembling. “But it’s just more of the same. I’m done.” You turned your back on her, closing the door with a quiet finality.

Kneeling beside Momo again, you gently dabbed at the blood on her face with a tissue. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. Momo, despite the pain, managed a weak smile. “It’s not your fault,” she murmured, her hand brushing against yours.

Her fingers, shaky and cold, reached up to wipe away your tears. “Don’t cry,” she said softly, her voice breaking.

You leaned into her touch, overwhelmed by the weight of it all. Whatever came next, you knew one thing—you couldn’t face Jihyo again. Not tonight. Not like this.

Weeks passed, and the media frenzy around you and Jihyo only intensified. Rumors swirled after a fan had stumbled upon the aftermath of your fight, and the headlines were relentless. Every photo of Jihyo and Sana together—laughing, standing too close, looking comfortable—added fuel to the fire.

You tried to avoid it all, retreating to Momo’s apartment like it was the only safe place in the world. Your presence outside was rare, limited to the occasional meeting or photoshoot, and even then, you were careful not to linger. Every camera click felt like a trap, and every whisper from onlookers only deepened the ache in your chest.

It was one of those quiet days when the knock came. You were sprawled out on Momo’s couch, half-asleep and staring blankly at the TV. The sound startled you, and for a moment, you assumed it was Momo, back from a meeting. She probably forgot her keys again.

Dragging yourself to the door, you pulled it open without a second thought, already halfway through grumbling, “You really need to—”

You froze.

It wasn’t Momo.

Jihyo stood there, dressed casually but looking anything but. Her posture was stiff, her lips pressed into a thin line. In her hands was a bouquet of roses, their vibrant red stark against the awkward look on her face. Your initial surprise wore off quickly, and you let out a sigh, already moving to close the door. “Not today, Jihyo.”

“Wait!” she said, her voice sharp with urgency. She wedged her foot between the door and the frame, the action so uncharacteristically desperate it made you stop. “Please, let me explain.”

You stared at her, trying to read her expression. There was something in her eyes—something softer, almost pleading. Against your better judgment, you let the door swing open wider and stepped aside.

She didn’t wait for an invitation, stepping inside and setting the flowers on the table before turning to face you.

—

The two of you sat on the couch, a tense silence hanging in the air. You crossed your arms, your posture defensive, while Jihyo sat upright, her back impossibly straight. “You don’t just get to show up like this,” you said finally, your tone sharper than you intended.

Jihyo flinched but masked it quickly, her expression hardening. “I know,” she admitted quietly, her gaze dropping to her lap. “But I needed to see you. To say... I’m sorry.”

You blinked, caught off guard. Jihyo didn’t apologize. It wasn’t in her nature. When she saw your skepticism, she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I was out of line,” she said, her words measured, almost mechanical. “That night, I... I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Clearly,” you muttered under your breath, earning a sharp glance from her. “I’m serious,” she snapped, but the frustration in her voice quickly gave way to something more vulnerable. “I shouldn’t have... hurt you like that.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. She looked uncomfortable, like admitting fault was physically painful for her.“Well,” you said finally, leaning back against the couch. “That’s a start, I guess.”

Before either of you could say more, the sound of keys jingling broke through the tension. Momo stepped inside, glancing between you and Jihyo with a curious, slightly wary expression.“Uh... am I interrupting something?” she asked, her tone light but cautious.

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Nothing you’d want to be a part of.” Jihyo stood abruptly, her eyes darting to Momo’s face. The faint bruise on her nose was still visible, though it had faded. Jihyo’s jaw tightened.“I owe you an apology,” she said, her voice clipped. Momo blinked, surprised. “Oh... uh, okay?”

“I shouldn’t have hit you,” Jihyo continued, her words stiff and robotic. “It was wrong.” Momo offered a small, awkward smile, nodding. “It’s fine. Really.”

“It’s not fine,” Jihyo said bluntly. “I’ll cover your medical bills.”Momo waved her off, her smile tightening. “That’s not necessary. I’m okay.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “God, Jihyo, do you even know how to apologize without sounding like a CEO closing a deal?” Jihyo shot you a glare but said nothing, her frustration evident. The tension between the three of you was thick, and you could feel Momo’s discomfort.

“I’ll, uh, let you two finish,” Momo said, gesturing toward the door. “I’ve got work to do anyway.”Once she was gone, Jihyo turned back to you, her expression softening slightly. “Are you coming home?” she asked, her voice quieter.

You hesitated, glancing toward the door Momo had just walked through. “Not yet,” you said finally. “I need more time.”Jihyo’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to argue. But she didn’t. Instead, she nodded, her shoulders sagging slightly.

She left the bouquet of roses on the table as she walked out, and you stared at them for a long time after she was gone. Something about the gesture felt off—forced, maybe. But there was a part of you, buried deep beneath the layers of frustration and anger, that wanted to believe she was trying.

Momo returned not long after, and the awkwardness from earlier had faded. She sat beside you, handing you a cup of tea and offering a reassuring smile. “She’ll figure it out,” Momo said softly, her tone full of quiet certainty.

You weren’t so sure. But for now, you were content to stay right where you were.

—

The hours dragged, and your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing on the table, each vibration like a tap on your already frayed nerves. You glanced at it reluctantly, seeing Jihyo’s name pop up again and again with new messages.

—“I shouldn’t have acted like that.”

—“I was out of line, but so were you.”

—“Are you okay? You could at least tell me that.”

Her words were clipped, awkward, and frustratingly indirect. For someone who always seemed to have everything together, she struggled to express anything real, anything soft.

You read them, one after another, feeling a mix of irritation and something else you didn’t want to name. Then, her name appeared on the screen again, this time with an incoming call.

You let it ring, your finger hovering over the decline button before giving in and answering. “What now, Jihyo?” you said, your voice heavy with exhaustion. A moment of silence on the other end, and then she sighed. “I just… I wanted to check if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you replied flatly, sitting back against the couch. “Good,” she said quickly, almost too quickly. Then, quieter, “That’s good.”

But she didn’t hang up. You could hear her breathing faintly through the line, as if she was wrestling with something else to say. For a moment, you thought maybe, just maybe, she’d finally open up.Instead, she settled for: “Get some rest.”

“Yeah. You too,” you muttered, ending the call before she could say anything else.

—

The messages didn’t stop, though. Each one came through like clockwork, a strange mix of concern and that same distant, blunt tone she always carried.

—“You’re not answering anymore. Is something wrong?”

—“I said I was sorry, okay?”

—“Goodnight, then.”

You stared at the last message for a long time before typing out a simple reply:

“Goodnight, Jihyo.”

Turning your phone face down, you let out a long sigh, slumping deeper into the couch cushions. The apartment was quiet except for the faint sound of Momo’s soft breathing from the bedroom. For a moment, you considered slipping into bed beside her. The idea of her warmth and easy comfort was tempting, but something kept you rooted to the couch.

That feeling in your chest—tight, uneasy, and frustratingly persistent—wouldn’t go away. Jihyo’s words had been kind on the surface, but they didn’t feel right. There was a distance in them, a hollowness that made it hard to trust what she said.

You closed your eyes, trying to push the thoughts of her away. But even as you drifted off, the weight of her voice lingered in your mind, pulling at something you didn’t want to examine.

[writingsonsaturn]

all of the girls you've loved before

{ masterlist } { the 'taylor swift' series }

🪐: the ending is a little rushed, and this is so not proofread but NEW SERIESSS, love you enjoy

wc - 2.7k

content warning: fem!reader, cheating (not from tim), fluff, talk of blood (reader is a blood analyst)

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You and Tim have known each other since you moved into the neighborhood when you were twelve, you had moved right across the street. He saw you one day outside helping your mother bring in boxes from a moving truck, he noticed the way your hands shook with the heaviness of the box but instead of dropping it, you fought through and continued carrying it inside. When you had walked back outside you ended up noticing him too, the way his hair lightened in the sunlight, his thin body shaking with nerves as the pretty girl he was staring at for far too long walked up to him and asked him a question.

“Do you know how to fix a pipe?” your voice flowed through his ears like honey soothing a sore throat, “oh um, no i don’t but i could ask my dad” he responded with a shake in his tone, although he hated interacting with his father he would at least try his best and ask for you. “Thanks!” you smiled and then asked him if he wanted to hang out sometime, explaining you just moved here from a couple states away and needed a friend, “yeah, that would be really cool” he agreed quickly, very quickly.

In no time the two of you became inseparable, spending endless days together with no regard for anyone else who wasn’t inside the little bubble the two of you had made. 

During the high school years, the crush you developed for Tim only grew stronger and stronger, during the classes you two had together he would always insist on sitting next to you and nearly every time he would never take no for an answer. The teachers found it easier to just succumb to his demands then argue with him over it, he would say a very polite ‘thank you’ and trot his way over to the desk or seat right next to you. You would always roll your eyes and say “it wouldn’t kill you to not sit next to me you know, it only makes their lives harder” and he would snap back with a “i work better next to you” and with that you would smile and turn your head back to the teacher with a warm feeling in your face.

Although one day, Tim came to you in a panic freaking out about not knowing what to wear. 

“Wear to what?” you questioned, confused why Tim of all people was freaking out about what to wear.

“Cindy agreed to go on a date, now hurry up, which shirt looks better” he rushed, holding both

shirts out in front of him with an impatient look.

You chose the shirt on the left, it was black with a blue vertical stripe on it. Biting back the sheer shock and hurt you felt in your chest and mustered up enough faux happiness, “now get out of here, and go get the girl” you said with a tight-lipped smile.

From there on out you tried your best to shove the feelings for Tim deep, deep, deep down into the deepest pit you possibly had in your body. You eventually also found yourself a boyfriend, you loved him deeply, and enjoyed his company. Cindy, Tim, you, and drake had double dates every week or so. Drake and Tim would talk about football while you and Cindy would groan about the upcoming physics test and how the homework was just absolutely destroying your social life.

Cindy and Tim broke up after junior year, they both wanted different things and felt neither of them wanted to take a chance at a long distance relationship. Tim would be heading into the military after graduation and Cindy was going to study abroad in Germany for a journalism degree. However, you and Drake were going decently strong, he had football scouts watching him at a couple of games and you were getting a full ride scholarship to an ivy league college.

That was until Drake cheated, the cliche of a football boyfriend cheating on his not so popular girlfriend had prophesied. You were completely and utterly distraught to say the least, Tim came over after you hadn't shown up at school that day and wouldn't pick up any of his calls. Your mom answered the door with a saddened look, “Hey sweetheart” you mom whispered “she’s not doing too well.”

Tim internally freaked out, considering any and all possibilities, the worst one being that you’re dying, obviously. Your mom must have seen the way his heart practically fell out of his jeans because she quickly explained what happened, “oh my, she didn't tell you?’ with a scoff she continued “Drake cheated on her, he was, i assume at a house party, and someone snapped a photo of him kissing another girl” her tone was sad, with a hint of anger, that someone had the audacity to hurt her little girl.

Tim nodded and stepped inside, taking off his shoes and walking upstairs to your bedroom. He pressed his ear against the door trying to get a sense of what he might be walking into, but heard nothing so with a light knock he entered your bedroom, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting to walk into but you sitting on the ground with a small blanket covering you and your knees tucked into your chest wasn't it.

“Oh, Y/n” he sighed and sat right beside you on the ground, you sniffled in acknowledgement and looked at Tim with red, wet eyes. 

“How can someone just do that?” you croaked.

“I don’t know, honey” Tim replied, wishing on every star that he could take your pain away and punch it into Drake’s skull.

You leaned into Tim’s chest, silently sobbing and asking questions you knew Tim wouldn’t be able to answer. Every time he would just hold you tighter and tighter, almost morphing your body into his until you cried yourself to sleep.

He stayed there for a generous amount of time before carrying you to your bed and tucking you in, and wishing you sweet dreams before leaving and going back into his own bed.

After a couple weeks of consoling you and getting you back into your groove he went and talked to Drake, confronting him in the school parking lot after football practice. He wanted nothing more than to beat his face in with a baseball bat but he figured you wouldn’t be very happy bailing him out of jail, so he opted for a stern scolding instead.

“What’s up, Drake?” Tim huffed out, walking over to Drake's car. “Oh, hey Tim” Drake said with a tone way to cheery for this situation, “Listen, what happened at the party was nothing but a drunken mistake, and besides, Y/n wasn’t giving anything up anyways” he explained “you know how us men are, we need intimacy” Drake ended with a small smile, assuming Tim would understand and bro hug him.

Tim however only became more heated, looking at Drake with red in his eyes, “so what you’re saying is, Y/n was just someone for you to get your rocks off with, and she wouldn’t give it to you so you decided to cheat on her?” Tim tried to put together Drake’s motives but couldn’t for the life of him understand the shallowness of that concept.

“Exactly, bro” Drake sighed in relief, thinking he got through to Tim, “you’re a real piece of shit, you know that Drake?” Tim growled. “Y/n did nothing but care and love you, and you drop the moment she doesn’t fuck you?” Drake’s face dropped, quickly realizing the predicament he was in. 

Tim walked up to him, nose inches away from Drake’s, “If I ever see you even breathe near her ever again, you will be on the floor faster than you can even registar what is happening, do you understand me?” Tim ended his sentence with a push and walked back to his car feeling somewhat better.

Tim sat in the driver's seat for a while, contemplating what to do next. He decided it would be nice to take you out to your favorite restaurant and go over college majors with you as you had been needing help figuring out what you should do for the field you were wanting to step into. 

As senior year came to an end Tim and you parted ways but always kept in touch, it was hard sometimes but the two of you did your best.

He would send you letters asking how college was, and you would send letters back asking if he was still a little twig or if he had finally built up muscle. Worry was always something you carried everytime a letter would be late or you wouldn’t hear from him for a while, but thankfully all was always okay.

When he got out he decided his next course of action would be to go into the police force, telling you it was the closest thing to the military a civilian could get and you supported him through the training academy. You had gotten your degree in forensics and now work in the lab as a blood spatter analyst, and he was a rookie.

You and Tim were absolutely stoked to be able to work in the same precinct, even opting for carpooling every now and then when you were too tired to drive. You also figured out way before Tim did how big of a crush Isabel had on him, she smiled so wide when he walked in and would constantly talk to him and invite him to get drinks after work. 

“You know she likes you right?” you teased, looking at Tim with a smirk as you ran tests in the lab. “Who? Isabel?” he asked obliviously, not quite catching onto what you caught onto months ago, “God Tim, yes!” you whisper-yelled “she makes googily eyes at you every time she’s looking at you.”

“You really think she likes me?”

“Oh my god, you are such a dude, of course she likes you!”

“Should I ask her on a date?”

“Yes Tim. Ask the poor girl on a date, she’s been waiting”

After you lit a fire under his ass, he quickly asked Isabel on a date and their relationship flourished from there. You on the other hand only had a couple of boyfriends off and on, none of them could make you very happy, and you would feel bad for leading them on. Never knowing why you weren't ever satisfied by good men.

One day Tim came up to you in the lab, very secretly and locked the door while looking at you. “Hey, i need womanly advice” Tim said, almost scared even the wind would pick up on his voice. 

“Alright, hit me” you smiled finishing up your email, “which ring do you think Isabel would like best?” your eyes flashed to the screen Tim was pulling up. The images showed two sets of princess cut diamond rings, one wearing a silver band while the other wore a gold band. Tim was smiling ear to ear waiting for you to react, you studied the rings hard before deciding Isabel would most likely prefer the silver band over the gold band.

“Thank you, Y/n” Tim looked at you before hugging you tightly, “I mean it, thank you” he finished by giving you a last squeeze before leaving. Your heart felt oddly heavy, holding emotion you weren't quite able to explain away, the world was dimmer.

Tim’s wedding came and went, you attended and gave a very long, tearful speech. Telling Tim how proud of him you were and how glad you were that he had found Isabel. It still stung, although you weren't entirely sure why, Tim’s heart has never been yours to hold and keep safe.

Then, Isabel started to delve into drugs, Tim would come to your house nearly in tears every other night thinking Isabel was cheating on him. You would comfort him, trying to reassure him that she wasn’t cheating on him and her job was just hard. She just needed extra support, you thought.

Your heart ached for Tim when the two of you found out Isable was using, you also hurt for Isabel, occupational hazard completely turned her life upside down. You did your best to be there for Tim and stayed up to date with any possible sightings of Isabel, but you never caught wind of her whereabouts.

Fortunately, one day when Tim was riding with his new rookie, Lucy Chen, he ran into Isabel, who was inside a convenience store. He came by your lab after it had happened. 

“She looked bad, Y/n” Tim’s voice cracked, looking more sorrowful than he’s ever looked before. 

“I'm so sorry, Tim, that’s so awful” you hugged his slumped frame, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll find her again, I know it” you pulled away smiling at him lightly. 

He gave you a forced smile, telling you he would take you to lunch after your labs came back, you wished you could give him more but there was really nothing else you could do for him. 

After a couple of months and a really sloppy secret op, Isabel was finally able to get the help she needed and was willing to go into rehab. Tim was ecstatic to see her looking so much like her old self again, and he understood when she said she no longer wanted to be with him, that she felt she couldn’t move on with him still in her life.

Tim was just happy to see someone he loved for so long doing so good. 

He lived the single life for a while, getting back on his feet and his mental health back into a good position. 

Rachel was a short fling, but you were sure Tim loved her. 

You strongly disliked Ashley but that's neither here nor there.

Then he finally opened his eyes and saw you.

You were who he’s been waiting for his whole life, the one who saw him at his most vulnerable, while also seeing him at his most fulfilled. It took him too long to notice but he finally did, every long night chat that he always came to you for, all the times he needed to cry on someone's shoulder he would go to you. He was finally going to tell you that, and he hoped to the highest of powers you would feel the same.

After his shift he walked over to your lab, knowing you, you would be working later than you should be. He let out a nervous breath, and opened your lab door. 

“Y/n? You in here?” Tim’s voice echoed off the plain walls.

“Over here!” you called from the back of the room.

Heavy footsteps made their way towards your voice, they were fast paced, almost nervous. “Hey!” you exclaimed with a big smile stretching from ear to ear, you were sitting on the floor with files spread out around you, looking like your office had been paper bombed. 

“Hi, Y/n” there was a quiver to Tim’s voice, one that made your stomach drop, you didn’t know what Tim was about to tell you but whatever it was, it’s causing your anxiety to mix with his.

“Are you okay?” 

“Perfect.”

“Then why do you look like you’re about to throw up?” you laughed nervously.

“I'm in love with you” Tim finally spit out, swallowing his fear and looking into your now wide open eyes.

“What?” your mouth was agape as you asked, your heart nearly exploded with eagerness and relief. 

“I'm in love with you, and i want to take you on a date” Tim repeated, with more confidence this time. “Okay” you stated simply.

“Okay?” His voice was laced with a bit of confusion and happiness. 

“Tim, i’ve been in love with you since we were in middle school and instead of hitting me with a dodgeball you took a hit for yourself because you just couldn’t bring yourself to tag me out” You laughed out, getting up from your paper tornado you've made around your office.

Tim pulled you into him with one hasty movement, “I wish i’d noticed sooner” Tim had a slight frown adorning his face.

“Every dead end street, led you straight to me, You noticed when it was the right time” you said quietly, wanting this moment to last forever. 

“So, where are you taking me on our first date?”

[shalvis]

Waking up just horribly sad and wanting to cry bc I don’t want to go to work bc I had a bad day yesterday

[angelnumber27]

It’s so embarrassing and heartbreaking being in so much pain over losing someone while knowing they don’t give a fuck if you live or die. Your favorite person becoming a stranger is a special kind of hell.