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getitoutofmymindwrites · 7 months ago

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The landing | joel miller x f!reader, 13.2k

Summary: You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you. Or The one where your orbits finally collide for the final showdown.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, NO SPOILER (read A/N), ANGST, cheater!joel, discussions of infidelity, mention of food consumption, yelling, crying, the briefest mention of smut thoughts, sprinkle of fluff (blink and you'll miss it), as always let me know if I missed anything 👀

A/N: Ok, *deep breath* I know I can't make everyone happy unless I write alternate endings 😅 and I understand that infidelity can be a very triggering concept. I gave them the ending I felt they both deserved, but if you're looking for a story where they are at each other's throats for 13k words, maybe this is not for you and you are more than welcome to kindly move on. I won't spoil the ending in the Warnings, so proceed with caution, you know what the main theme is all about. All I can tell you is that this part of the story is divided into two main scenes because I didn't want to drag it out with one little scene after another. *she says after spilling 13k words🙄sorry about that👀* As always, I would love to read your thoughts on the last part and please keep in mind that writing is almost always self-indulgent.

P.S. I want to thank each and every one of you for the love I received for this mini-series, I never thought it would engage so many people. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You've all been so kind and sweet to me, so this journey filled my heart with joy! I love you all, take care of yourselves and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! Oh! My asks are always open if you want to know more about their story. I could even write drabbles or one-shots about anything you'd like to know in particular. Ily, bye 😘

P.S. I deliberately left the last two lines without clarification of who says what, I leave that up to you. 🤍

Dividers by @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics @plum98

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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FOUR YEARS AFTER THE FALL

Are you still falling?

You’re not sure anymore. Maybe you’re just used to it. Or maybe you just learned how to fly. It certainly feels like everything has slowed down. Sometimes it feels like floating. As if you’re a feather, so lightweight, swirling around aimlessly. But you can never touch the ground. Gravity can’t quite pull you down. Every time you feel like you’re finally landing, a force of nature pulls you back up.

Maybe it is a soft, warm, summer breeze, a memory of Joel.

Maybe it is a whirlwind, a contact from the lawyers.

Maybe it is a snowstorm, sign the papers, please.

Maybe it is the whispering of a gentle wind, the possibilities of what might have been, or the lack of real closure.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

You never thought you’d enjoy leaving the big city and making a home for yourself on a ranch. But you loved it. You loved the peace and quiet, you loved this new community of people, you loved taking care of the horses, riding them, being around them. And then there was the house. A place you could almost call home. It was beautiful, rustic, warm, inviting, lacking none of the comforts a modern house needs, because you can’t quite get the big city girl out of you. The entire land had a soft, yellow-golden light enveloping every tree and every rock, everywhere your eyes reached, as if the sun shone differently here.

The days are easy. The chores are more than enough to keep you focused, there’s always something to do around here. It feels good to be busy, to keep your mind from dwelling on the past. You welcome the exhaustion of a full day’s work that accompanies your body when night comes.

Evenings are mostly good. You shower the day off, you cook, you chill on the couch with a good book or a film and more often than not, as the time passes and you feel more comfortable sharing the privacy of your home, you have friends over for dinner and drinks.

Nights though, nights are hard. At night, you pray that you are tired to the point of exhaustion so that you can sleep through it peacefully. Sometimes it works, but most of the time, not so much.

Time has intensified and lessened your emotional burden simultaneously.

The sharp pain that feels like thick acid being poured into you mellows in an inexplicable way. It still hurts, the pain oozing out of your every single pore even in a physical way. Only now, it has transformed into a sweet, slow poison conquering every hollow of your body, every vein leading from your heart to the ends of your limbs.

It’s almost a welcoming feeling, this pain, reminding you that you’re still alive, that he was real, that everything that happened was real. Because sometimes, sometimes, when you let yourself relax, when you let your guard down, all of this feels like a dream. Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the night, confused, reaching with your hand for the other side of the bed and finding it empty. And for a split second you get that feeling. The feeling of how it used to be with him next to you.

Then you remember.

You know why this is happening and who’s responsible for it. This is a mix-up. This is what your treacherous brain does to mess with your resolve. It blends the bad stuff into the good, creating the strangest of concoctions. The clear image of black and white, neatly and perfectly hung in the center of the walls of your mind is now splashed with colorful memories from your life together, like a Pollock painting. You do your best to resist, to bring back scenes from all the vivid recollections of the night your life changed forever but your uncooperative brain pops another memory up, a good fuckin’ memory, like a projector, illuminating those bare imaginary walls with laughter and touches and whispers and scents and warmth. It’s relentless.

This dichotomy creates an uneasiness inside you, you choose to reject and pretend not to notice. Which in turn leads to self-contempt because, as always you can’t lie to yourself. You may lie to others but deep in your core you have to be honest with yourself. That is something you’re owed. To be aware, present in the reality of your life. So, you know, you know, you just sweep things under the carpet as a copy mechanism. You know what you should do.

You should confront him. You should demand answers and then finally say what you need to say to him. Not for him, not for his sake, but for yours. But you can’t. You've lost count of how many times you've picked up the phone and your thumb hovered over his contact to call him but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. And every time you tried to text him, to start a conversation, it felt too awkward. The only acceptable subject of discussion initiated by you was the progress of the divorce papers. You were unable to even remotely insinuate a more meaningful encounter. And he didn’t make any advances either. Not that you gave him any room to try and talk to you, but still, he seemed more settled with that, rather than not.

Maybe that fact itself was your cue to let it all go. He’s probably moved on. You don’t cheat on someone so blatantly and then want them back. Obviously, this whole delaying of the divorce is a power play, like everything else, it seems.

Good, yeah, that’s it. That’s it.

Now, let go. Move on. You solved it. Let go.

But this annoying little voice is scratching the walls of your weary brain, nudging the limits of the carefully made up serenity that’s hanging by a thread.

You should confront him. For your peace of mind, for your equilibrium.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

It’s early in the evening and you’re in the garden in front of the house near the porch, on your knees, plucking a few weeds from the ground. The fatigue of the day’s work has begun to take its toll on you, your shoulder is slightly trembling as you rest your weight on one palm to dig around with the other. Sweat covers your torso, rolling down between the valley of your breasts and the hollow between your spine, leaving your t-shirt clinging to your skin, your hair sticking to your forehead, which is lightly covered in a thin layer of dirt at some places as you keep wiping your forearm over the little beads of salty water that concentrate over your brows.

You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you.

There's an overload of sensations before you shift your body around to confirm what you already know in your bones. You can smell him, taste him, feel him on your suddenly tingling skin, all at the same time.

You turn slowly and your breath hitches on your throat. You just stay in place, frozen, time infinitely stretching as you take him in from where you kneel on the ground. He stops abruptly the second his eyes meet yours and you could swear he’s holding his breath, his face completely unreadable.

He looks.. he looks like your Joel and nothing like him simultaneously. Soft yet imposing. Handsome yet battered. Determined yet lost. His clothing is simpler, dark jeans, green flannel over a black t-shirt and laced boots, as if he just returned from a working site. His curls are longer, framing his handsome face in a ridiculously good way, more white hairs nestle in his beard that is not that trimmed. Neither of you speak quite yet, taking each other in.

Your mind, your bizarre, ridiculous mind is working on figuring out what day it is. Why does it matter? Did you have an appointment? This is unexpected and a long time coming all at once, regardless of the day of the week. What comes next? Do you draw up an astrological map to determine if it's a compatible date for you to meet? Get it together.

Your facial expression must be pretty funny because Joel smiles awkwardly while scratching one side of his bearded cheek; hey, it’s me.

No, shit, you mentally respond, as if you could ever forget him. Furious is the word that best describes you because these are his first words? Hey, it’s me? And that feeling escalates into an explosive retort because you now realize that you had expectations. His first words? Who cares what his first words are? Were you expecting a tearful reunion, masterfully staged and executed like a romantic film? The guy betrayed you in your own house, sorry, his house. Wake the fuck up.

“Did you sign the papers?” you spit as you rise from your spot and he reacts as if you have punched him in the stomach. His face falls; you see a series of micro-expressions pass over his features before he settles on the last one. Has he been hurt? Did you hurt his feelings? Did he also have expectations?

“Uh-”, Joel raises his brows in genuine surprise, things probably not going the way he expected or hoped.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”, he replies with mild mockery.

Your eyes snap shut and you laugh in anger, lowering your chin to your chest and then looking back up at him, your eyes blazing, your brows mimicking his previously surprised expression, “Are you serious right now?” you cross your hands defensively over your chest.

You stare at each other for a good minute, both of you taking a moment to compose yourselves and regain your balance.

You break first, dropping your head back to your chest, looking down at the heel of your shoe scraping the ground beneath you, exhaling audibly.

“Hey,” Joel tries again, after speaking your name tenderly, your name on his lips, his head dipping down and to the side to try and get your attention back to him, his gaze filled with a mixture of warmth, regret and fear, “hi.”

You shake your head from side to side in repentance, what a great start this is, you keep thinking, “Hi.” is all you give him, still not looking at him.

“Hi,” he repeats, “it’s really nice to see you, bab-, shit, sorry.”, he winces, covering his mouth with his palm, embarrassment creeping into his features. You let out a quiet laugh, exhaling through your nose. You don’t comment on the slip of endearment that leaves his mouth, you don’t correct him, accepting privately that you liked it, you missed it, you longed for it.

Joel studies your face, but makes no comment on your silence. “You look...” he pauses for a split second before deciding to continue, “you look really good.” He hesitates, he doesn't want his compliment to come across as a feeble attempt to patronize you, because he really means it. You do look good, all sweaty and muddy and human and real. You are real. If he took a few steps forward, he could actually reach out and touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips, smell your heady scent, perhaps discreetly lick the remnants of your sweat from his thumb after carefully removing the strands of hair sticking on your forehead. But he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t do any of that.

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, any answer crossing your mind seems stupid or cheesy or dismissive. How do you respond to a compliment from the man who made you worship in his altar, only to have your faith ripped out of your heart?

His eyes keep roaming over your face, your figure, memorizing everything he can, like a blind man who has finally found his light, while he fidgets with an envelope in his hand which reminds you-

“Did you sign the papers, Joel?”, is what escapes your lips before you can think twice.

“No.” and now it’s his turn to lower his head, his eyes avoiding your gaze, as he looks down at his feet.

“Joel!”, you exclaim infuriated, rolling your eyes at him, knitting your brows together in a sign of frustration.

“No, no, it’s not like that. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want.”, Joel raises a hand in your direction to stop you from what seems to be a fair assumption, his palm up, facing you in an unspoken surrender. “I thought that- me, not signing, was a way of showing you how deeply sorry I am, how much I wanted to fix our marriage, but I understand now,” his voice wavers slightly, “that I need to respect your wishes. It’s the right thing to do. If this is still what you want, I’m gonna sign it.”

You don’t reply to that last part, only pointing out that “You didn’t have to come all this way to tell me that.”

“No, I didn’t.” Joel agrees.

“Then why are you here?” you insist, reluctant to entertain the idea that he has actually come all this way to apologize.

“Because I owe you an explanation.” is his honest and direct answer, sending little jolts of electricity through your nerves.

“Joel..” you sigh in exasperation. Not in warning or frustration, not really, but in something else. A feeling you can’t really put a name to, the closest you can come to describing it is that of a burden, woven deep into your heart, blossoming rapidly with each beat. There are so many things left unsaid; it makes you feel helpless, like you’re drowning. You want the dam you’ve built around your soul over the years to break so everything you've been holding back can finally pour out of you, but there’s just so much of it, of everything, that you’re terrified. Will the overflowing tank of emotions be completely empty? Will there be anything left unsaid? Untouched? What if the remnants left behind keep licking around your wounds, their waves pushing, shaping what’s left of you into something new, unrecognizable?

And what if, the tank will indeed be completely empty? What you’ll be left with, then? Nothing? Just.. empty? Will you remain empty? What, if anything, will take its place? Will you recognize your new self? Will you like yourself? Will you be able to live in harmony with this shell of a person? This you; you know. You hated and pitied and caressed and comforted and forgave and nurtured you into some version of a new you. But this? Everything will be torn apart, the wounds will be freshly opened, accessible to be examined in detail, plucked and bled and bruised in an all-too-familiar way.

Joel’s voice snaps you out of your trance, “No, I do. I owe you more than that, actually, but that’s the least I can do. And I wanna do that while I’m still your husband. I want to explain myself as your husband. Apologize to my wife, as her husband. Then I’m gonna sign anything you want me to.”

“And if I don’t wanna hear what you have to say?”

“Then I’ll just sign the papers and leave you in peace.” Joel confesses in all his honesty.

You just nod, looking down on the ground. You take a deep breath to ground yourself. You can do this. You want to do this. You need to do this.

You walk towards the house and sit down on the steps of the porch, as he looks at you awkwardly, not knowing where to stand. You gesture with a tilt of your head for him to come sit next to you. You can do this. You realize that you didn’t invite him into the house and you feel a bit rude for that, but it's beyond your empathetic capacity to deal with him being here and to let him into the house as well. “I just like it out here, it’s calm and-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, whatever makes you feel comfortable; I know you don’t want me here any longer than I have to be..” he interrupts you as he sits down next to you, his one side pressing against the end of the stairs, where the railing begins. He places the contract between your bodies, on the wooden floor.

It makes you uncomfortable, his statement, you always want people to feel welcome and relaxed around you. You internally chastise yourself for worrying about his feelings instead of yours, but you can’t help it, it’s embedded in your DNA. “It’s OK, Joel, I don’t mind, we can talk.”

Joel nods, but he remains silent. You don’t break the silence, giving him time to collect his thoughts. He chuckles defeated, shaking his head while rubbing his hand over his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you don’t look that mighty to me anymore.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself and you immediately regret it. It didn’t sound so insulting in your head. You only meant to say that he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. Which is sort of a lie and a truth at the same time. You used to find him imposing, even his mere presence had the ability to make your skin crawl, your heart flutter and your words get catch in your dry throat, you were in awe of him. Every time you laid your eyes at him, even when you were straddling his lap or gazing at his profile as he slept beside you, you always felt as if you were looking up. You admired him.

His heart loses several beats to that. He can read between your lines now. He has lost your respect. Your admiration. The time when you looked up to him in awe is long gone.

“You know, my therapist warned me about this.”, he chuckles bitterly.

“Your-” you can’t hide your shocked expression from him as you search his eyes for any sign of him joking around, but you find none. “You’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah, I-, I spent two years hating myself,” he chuckles deprecatingly, “and then I realized it was time for me to stop being an arrogant prick, so I spent another two doing it all over again with the help of my therapist.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that and it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen in his entire life. “OK, somebody’s off to a good start. Go on.”

“You mean about the therapy?”

“I mean about you admitting you are an arrogant prick”, you say playfully.

He really laughs now, his eyes crinkle up at the sides. You used to love that. You feel your heart warming up. “You can thank Maria for that.”

“For what?”

“For kicking my ass and pushing me to help myself.” Joel admits. “She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, she is.” you agree through your laughter, the image of Maria actually kicking Joel’s ass is priceless.

“I missed that sound.” Joel is looking at you softly, as if his gaze could break you.

“Hm.” you simply smile at him, not finding it in you to respond with a snide remark. The time for that feels like it has passed, like it’s irrelevant at this point. All you really want is to have an honest conversation, irony be damned.

You both look at your feet in silent consideration for a minute or two. “I thought you’d be mad at me.” Joel reveals.

You exhale through your nose, the edges of your mouth turning up in a gentle smile. “Four years is a long time to be mad at anyone, Joel. Even you don’t have that kind of power over me.”

“Good. I have enough burden on my shoulders as it is..”, he mumbles and you decide to change the subject.

How do you admit that you are still mad at him but in a different way? How do you describe the deep scar his existence has carved into your soul making it almost unbearable to even exist without him? How do you explain that you’ll always carry him with you, no matter what? How do you instill in him that you still believe in the best version of him, the best version you know he can be, the best version of him you once lived with. Yes, you’re not mad at him for the reasons he thinks you are. You’re mad at him because the way he made you love him is stronger than any hurt he’s ever caused you.

“So, what did your therapist warn you about?”

“She, uh- she tried to prepare me for this.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

“That I should not be prepared.”, he laughs in earnest. “That I should not obsess about what I want to say and just be open and have an honest interaction.”

“I like her, already.” you say with a straight face.

He smiles softly, looking down at his boots, while he rests his elbows on his knees, one palm encircling the other. “Yeah… I had some digging to do; I still do for that matter and will be for a long time it seems.”

“Anything you wanna share?” you reply, raising an eyebrow as if you had no idea why he was here.

“Oh, boy-” he squirms in his seat, already overwhelmed by the turn of the conversation, his chest almost vibrating with anxiety, he can barely swallow, small beads of sweat starting to form around his temples. You reluctantly reach for his forearm, trying to calm him down. “Hey, Joel?”

His whole body stiffens at your touch and he wishes his clothes would evaporate so he could feel your skin against his. He fixes his eyes on your delicate fingers lightly squeezing his tight muscles underneath the fabric. “The worst part has already happened four years ago, so-” you shrug, “just breathe.” Joel keeps his eyes on your hand, his heart rate dropping slightly; you ground him. You retract your arm and keep your hands to yourself in an effort to maintain a respectable distance between you. You shouldn’t have touched him at all.

“I think- I think I understand now.” he begins, still feeling the ghost of your touch on his forearm. “How I made you feel, what your words meant. You always did that, you know. And I found it so fascinating and so exhausting at the same time.”

You look at him, confused. Joel continues, “You always chose your words carefully. You had a reason for every single thing you said. In retrospect, I realized that you were handing me everything on a silver platter, but I was too self-absorbed to see it at the time.”

You nod in agreement, gesturing with your head for him to keep going.

Joel takes a deep breath, holding it inside his lungs for a while. His exhalation is controlled, measured. “Fuck. Okay. It was not just the fact itself. It was not just the cheatin’.”

Your stomach clenches violently at his words. The time has finally come and although you know what happened, you where there, when the words come out of Joel’s mouth it's as if you're pulled back to that threshold all over again. It really happened. You feel your hands sweating. “Go on.”, you pronounce carefully, already anxious your voice is going to betray you. You can do this.

“I don’t want to sound all full of myself-” Joel hesitates.

“You won’t.” you interrupt him with conviction. The truth has never frightened you. You welcome it. It feels like a form of catharsis, it feels like you’re finally being seen. Every nerve in your body is on fire. You’re ready for this, for the truth, if only he gives it to you. Please, set me free.

“I was your everything.” he whispers, almost embarrassed, his eyes not meeting yours. You don’t respond to that, not until he looks at you, although the admission shoots straight through your heart. You stare at the side of his face, almost forcing him to turn to you. He does.

“You were.” Simple. True. Clear as the light of day.

“And I ripped that from you.”

“You did.”

“In the worst possible way.”

“Hmhm.”, you don’t trust the stability of your voice.

“And no matter what I say, I can never take back what I did. I humiliated you, our home, our relationship, everything. I-” his brows furrow in an expression of disgust, “I disrespected myself. I burned everything down. I left nothing for you to hold on to, nothing for me to hope for, nothing.”

His chin trembles and his voice wavers as he continues. “The words to describe how sorry I am have not yet been invented. And even if they had, they still couldn’t take the pain away; what’s done, is done.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the railing. “I don’t know what I wish for anymore. That you had never met me, so you could be spared all this pain? But I can’t. I can’t wish that, because I’m so grateful to have met you. I married you, I had you. That is what has comforted me all these years, what has got me through all those sleepless nights.” He looks absolutely devastated, desperate.

It feels genuine, because he’s not directing it at you, he’s not trying to convince you, he’s not trying at all. “I have not thought about my pain or what I want from all this for a long time. All I pray for is-” his glistening eyes are searching frantically on the ground, his brows knitted together in a painful grimace. You rest your head on the palm of your hand, your elbow on your knee. Watching this moment like an outside observer, you realize that he's trying to live up to your standards, reminding you of a child trying to impress his parents, only to fail regardless of the outcome.

“Look, Joel, couples break up, divorce, all over the world, all the time. And I guess, they all thought their partners were their everything until they finally weren’t.”, you rationalize, putting everything that has happened into some kind of perspective. It is not the end of the world. It is the end of your world. He doesn’t have to carry this burden on his shoulders for eternity. All you need from him is to understand, to acknowledge what he's done to you, how broken you’ve been.

But if he acknowledges that, if he truly comprehends the tremendous pain he’s put you through, won’t all that anguish be transferred to him? Isn't it unbearable for a truly repentant man to know that he has deliberately caused so much pain?

“But, you see; I wanted that, I needed to be your everything.”

“It certainly fed your ego..” you grin at him.

“No, no- I craved that- that look on your face when your eyes were on me, like there was nothing else, no one else around you, but me. You drove me to be better, to move forward; I felt I had a purpose. You were my purpose.”

“Well I didn’t do much of a job then, did I?” you smile defeated.

“No, honey, this-” he’s determined to make you understand that it wasn't your fault, even if it is the last thing he is going to do. He licks his lips trying to formulate his thoughts, “-what happened, had nothing to do with you, I- I was just- I got in my head..”

You shake your head dismissively, “It’s a terrible burden to put people on a pedestal and expect them to-”

“But you see, baby, that’s the thing. You didn’t.”Joel dismisses your comment and if a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over your head you wouldn’t feel so frozen. You search his eyes for meaning, because deep down it stings to hear that you could give more. Is that what he’s saying? You didn’t love him enough? Joel catches on and rushes to explain. “You-” god this is so hard, he’s struggling, can’t he just rip his heart open and let you examine it? “You loved me so much, baby and you never asked for anything in return. You let me be who I was. You accepted me completely. You set me free.” His eyes are blown wide, burning into yours with intensity. You look so lost, how does all this fit in with what he did then?

“Darlin’,” he expands further, “we live in a competitive world. Everyone aims to control each other, from business partners to lovers and spouses; everyone manipulates, everyone tries to tell you where to look, what to do, how to act, how to fuck, how to love. Except for you. You let me be. You put your heart in my hands and you set me free. And I took advantage of that and I am truly sorry. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know. That’s how fucked up I am.” you look at him dumbfounded.

“I can’t connect the dots; I don’t get it, Joel, I’m sorry, I-” you run your fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp in frustration. What does he mean?

Joel winces mid-sentence because he can’t escape what’s coming. This is his last resort. And he knows it is going to sound cruel and he doesn’t even mean the first part the way you're going to perceive it, but for lack of better words, for lack of the better person he could have been, a person who should have never put you in this position in the first place, here goes.

“She made me feel wanted; you made me feel free.”,

he spits out in a hurry, praying to whatever god is listening, that you won’t even catch it, knowing full well that these may be the last words you'll ever let him speak to you.

You are utterly, completely, perfectly shocked.

Then you feel it for the first time in what feels like ages. That old friend consuming you. Rage. It burns your lungs, twists your guts and pierces your heart like a thousand needles. Everything becomes crystal clear. You’re so infuriated, that your mind goes blank. A million words and nothing at all come to your mind simultaneously.

“Let me- let me rephrase that, because actually it was never even about her, I just-” Joel begins, in a vain attempt to stop the tide from crushing you both.

Your palms become clenched fists in front of your mouth, pressing against it, crushing the velvety skin of the inside of your lips against your teeth until you draw blood, in an effort to control yourself. You inhale sharply, keeping your eyes fixed on the land in front of you, blurred by the tears gathering in your waterline.

“She- what?” are the only words you manage to choke out.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter, it was never about her, she was a means to an end and-” your eyes bulge out of your sockets at the statement, “I know- I know how that sounds- just-” his palms come together in a prayerful gesture, begging you to give him a chance to explain.

“A means to an- what the fuck are you talking about, Joel?” the veins on your forehead swell under your skin, creating a map of the river of wrath flowing aggressively through your body.

“It was never an affair sweetheart, but a transaction; one I initiated. She was only a boost to my ego.”

..she made me feel wanted..

..a boost to my ego..

It's all starting to make sense now, and it's the last thing you expect to be confronted with. You've always imagined either a heated affair, a secret love story, him realizing he had found his soul mate in someone else, or him getting bored with you, finding you too much or too emotional or too unlovable. It turns out that you were accused of the one thing you never were.

“Are you-, oh god,” you can hear your heart pounding in your ears now and it takes every ounce of strength not to vomit, “are you saying that you fucked someone else; you fucked your secretary for fuck’s sake, you fuckin’ cliché of a man, because I wasn’t jealous of you?”. Your throat is so swollen, you try to scream your words at him but they only come out in wrenched whispers.

You stand up abruptly, dizziness causing you to close your eyes tightly as you see a million white dots behind the blackness of your eyelids. Your whole body vibrates with rage. You steady yourself on the railing and then begin to pace back and forth, your hands unable to stay motionless, but moving over your face, through your hair, lowering and squeezing the sides of your waist as you lean slightly forward in a subconscious way to soothe yourself.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you laugh hysterically now, as angry tears run down your cheeks, as if you've been let in on an inside joke. “It’s my fault, everything is my fault-”

Joel is frozen in place, he’s not sure if he should get up and try to reason with you or stay where he is.. or run for the hills. He’s witnessing the unleashing of a caged animal. His tongue feels heavy and numb in the cavern of his mouth but he dares to speak again, “That’s the exact opposite of what I said, sweetheart,” he tries to explain in vain, “I’m sorry if that’s what I-” but you’re not listening to a single word he utters.

“People kept telling me, urging me on, all my life;” and you slap your palms on the sides of your thighs, looking at his direction, but not really looking, “I should be more controlling, more pushy, more..” your voice begins to fade, muttering to yourself through your teeth. “They warned me, you know, that the lack of pressure in any kind of relationship would be perceived as a lack of interest.”

Don't trust completely; hold something back; men like the illusion of power; show them you need them; make them jealous; be jealous, like a manual to a pre-installed setting.

Do you agree to the Terms & Conditions?

Press ‘Enter.’

“But I didn’t listen. I never listened. Because in what world do we choose a leash over freedom?” You turn to look at him now, addressing him as if you were talking to a third party, an outsider, asking for advise or affirmation.

Maria’s words come back to Joel’s mind, words that he had long forgotten about, finally fitting like missing pieces of a puzzle to the bigger picture.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”

“I was really stupid, was I not? What on earth made me think that this time would be any different, what made me think that you’d be any different? You’re just- you’re just another man-” you spit your vile angrily as your eyes sweep over him. The look in his eyes is devastated, he feels shuttered, reduced to nothing.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl. When the fuck will I learn? When the fuck am I going to accept that I don't really belong? When?”

Joel is staring at you bewildered, he never felt more helpless in his life. A thousand new thoughts and questions form in your head, things you didn’t even begin to imagine would cross your mind.

“Did you use her?” you ask with renewed vigor, a surge of energy running through your body.

Joel’s cheeks burn with humiliation but he has already admitted it once, what will it do to him to say it one more time? “Yes, I never had any feelings f-”

“No,” you interrupt impatiently, you don't care about his feelings right fuckin' now, “that night, did you use her? On purpose?”

Joel looks lost for a second but the cogs in his head finally turn and “NO! No baby, I wasn’t even aware of you coming home earlier than expected, no. Don’t even entertain this idea; it wasn’t intentional, I swear to god.”

Oh. There’s a new question for Joel. Why did you leave your business trip early? He had never thought about it before, solely focused on everything else that had happened, which now made him wonder, “Did you- did you know?”

“What?” you frown, lost in your own thoughts, not following his line of logic.

“Did you know? Is that why you came back early from your trip?”

You’re still a bit too far gone in your head to think clearly and try to prevent the next question from coming, “Of course I didn’t know, Joel, did it look like I did?” is all you say with a bite, annoyed.

“Then why-” Joel insists, pressuring you for an answer, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“I- fuck- I need a minute.” you declare and start to walk towards the house.

Joel waited on that porch for almost an hour, watching the sun set behind the mountain, afraid to move, barely breathing in case you stormed out and threw him back where he came from as if him standing still would somehow make him part of the landscape; as if he belonged.

And you certainly delivered.

He hears the screen door open, his back still to the house. You are standing behind him, your arms crossed stiffly over your chest, your face tilted down, to avoid his gaze. He could see the red-rimmed and swollen eyes of yours, despite your efforts to hide them.

“I can’t do this-”

“Please,” his whole face contorts in agony, “please, hear me-” you both speak at the same time.

“-tonight.”

“What?” his voice matching the look of confusion on his face.

“Maybe another time, but not tonight.”

“I-” he doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts without sounding like an idiot. He drove all this way, four hours straight, to finally get things straight. His brain has short-circuited, unable to put a plan into action. Should he check into a hotel or a motel or whatever the fuck is around here in the middle of nowhere? Should he go back to his place? Do you really want to talk again? You sort of said you did. You said maybe. Fuck. What does he do?

But honestly, what did he expect? That this would be over in the course of one evening? Of course he would have to come back. His eyes are fixed on yours like a deer caught in the headlights. “I came all this way-” he mumbles, choking on the last part, already regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

“Well, too bad.” you spit emotionless as you turn and head for the safety of your house, leaving him stunned on the goddamn porch.

Joel returned the next evening, but you weren't there. He made the four hour journey and came back empty-handed. And you weren't there the next evening, or the evening after that. But he kept on driving the miles, hot wheels under the Texas sun. He didn’t check in anywhere near your small town. He went back home and then back to you again.

The last time he found nothing but a closed door, he finally got the message, so the next time he left the house, before he turned on the ignition, he texted you, as a sign of respect for your boundaries.

Is it all right if I come and see you?

Backspacebackspacebackspace

Is it OK if I come and talk?

And the answer was

Not today.

So, every day he texted you. He didn’t mean to be intrusive, he just wanted to remind you that you were never far from his thoughts, that he was always ready and eager to finish what he started.

You denied him for quite some time. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him again. The confessions he made have knocked you off your axis. Just when you finally felt like everything was falling into place, he dropped this bombshell, making you rethink everything you thought you knew and had sorted out in your mind. You just couldn’t wrap your head around what you’d heard coming out of his mouth. How could he think like that? Why couldn’t he just talk to you? You used to talk about everything; what the fuck happened? How did you not see that coming?

You were sure that he would give up, that he would stop bothering to contact you at all. Was it the monster of self-deprecation? Was it a deep disappointment in human beings and their general lack of persistence in trying to nurture and repair a relationship, or at least trying to give it a proper closure? You didn’t give it much thought afraid of the answer you might get. But you kept saying Not today, until one day, for some reason-

Can we talk?

Yes.

Joel’s heart is beating through his chest so rapidly, he has to cough to regain some of his composure. He almost drops his phone, trying to confirm the most convenient time for you before you change your mind.

That was the first Yes after the day you saw him again. You weren’t sure what you wanted to talk about; if you could pick up exactly where you left off. You weren’t even sure you could look him in the eye again, but you had to see this through.

When you hear the sound of his engine and tires on the dirt road, you take a deep breath and walk out of the house to wait for him on the porch.

“Come on in, I’m cooking dinner.” you announce as you open the screen door for him to enter the house.

“Are you sure?”, Joel is taken aback, he thought the inside of your house was strictly off-limits to him. You were also cooking dinner as if he was an old friend visiting you. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should lower his defenses or not but with the way you looked tonight you didn’t give him much of a choice.

You’re wearing a pair of warm cream jeans, paired with a white front tie shirt, the first few buttons left open, giving him a glimpse of your tanned sternum. It almost looks like a man’s shirt, just messily tied up over your soft skin, revealing bits of your stomach. Could it be another man’s shirt?

You are barefoot. The nails of your toes are painted in a fresh glossy black color. Your hair is casually tied up in a messy bun, loose strands falling around your beaming face. Joel has to restrain himself from pushing you against the wall and fucking you on the spot, by clenching and unclenching his fists. His mouth is salivating at the sight of you, excitement building in his groin. It's been so long since he's felt this way, a different kind of hunger is growing in him at a rapid pace, as if something buried deep inside his masculinity has just awakened from hibernation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you quirk back at him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, what you’re both doing. “I’m starving. Coming?” you leave him at the entrance and go back into the house.

“You have a beautiful home.”, Joel admits as he takes in his surroundings, thinking that this is going better than he expected. He also can't help but prepare himself for the fact that this might not end the same way.

“Thank you.” you laugh nervously.

“What?”, he catches the note of disbelief in your voice. “I'm serious, the light is just right, it’s open and warm; it actually reminds me of you.” he says matter-of-factly.

“No, no, I know you mean it, it’s just- I guess it’s high praise, coming from you.” you admit. You always admired what he did for a living and how good he was at it and him seeing your place for the first time gave you another reason to feel kind of nervous.

“Oh, come on, none of that now.” he dismisses the compliment, his voice wavering slightly at the praise.

“Well it’s true, you are excellent at what you do, I mean, the house you built is a work of art and that’s a fact.”

“Which one?”, although he knows exactly which one, he presses on.

“The one we used to live in, together.” You can’t call it your house. You cannot. The mere thought of it makes your tongue feel like it’s on fire.

“Oh.”, Joel smiles as he presses his lips together in a thin line, “You mean our house. It was built out of love, that's why. It's the one I'm most proud of.”

“Hm.”, is all you give him. Déjà vu brings back memories out of the closet -pun intended- for both of you.

“Ok, now you really have to tell me. What is it?”, Joel crosses his forearms over his chest. He has to know.

“What do you mean?”, you try to buy some more time, cause you’re not so sure you want to go in there.

“You had the exact same reaction when I mentioned that, four years ago.”

“Ah, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“It’s just- it always felt like it reflected your personality rather than mine. Or at least ours.”

Joel looks at you perplexed.

“I’m not complaining, I mean, how many people can claim that their husband built them a house the size of a small hotel as a wedding present?” you chuckle while you continue as nonchalantly as you can muster, “I would have lived in a cave with you, Joel, you didn’t have to go to these lengths to house two people. If you want my honest opinion, this was an ego project. I let it slide because it made you happy. And I liked you happy.” Joel looks stunned, his eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“Baby, I- I wanted to make you happy, to give you the best I could-”

“Joel, I’m not judging you. I am not. But you didn’t show me a single blueprint while you were designing the damn thing. You didn’t ask me what I wanted or how I imagined it. Sure, you equipped it with all the best stuff money could buy, but you never asked me what I thought about it. Not really.”, you see the hurt in his eyes and it unsettles you, but now the rabbit is out of the hat. “Again, I’m not judging you and I’m not being ungrateful, all I’m saying is that for some reason you needed your shinny new wife to live in a shinny new castle. It was a prestige thing. Just think about it.”

“Jesus..” Joel mutters, pinching the sides of his forehead with one hand, feeling defeated.

“Hey,” you give him a wry look, “I tried to avoid answering that question for four years. You were the one who insisted.” you defend yourself, clearly amused by his reaction.

“What else do I need to know?”, Joel wonders in a desperate manner.

“Well.. for how long can you keep coming back?” you joke absentmindedly.

“For the rest of my life..” Joel answers a little too quickly, not a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Your heart tightens at his eagerness, forcing you to admit a consideration that you have had more than a few times before. “You know,” you look over at him, lost in thought, almost like reminiscing, “sometimes I wish I had met you before your company took off.” You snap out of your daydream and consciously look at him and he looks pained as if some kind of realization has hit him. You change the subject for the sake of both of you. “Anyway, speaking of which, how is work? I heard you closed that deal, after all.” you grin mischievously.

“Yeah, I did.”, his voice takes on a strange timbre, almost like regret. But you’re not so sure about anything these days, so you let it pass. He puts the envelope with the contract on the counter in the kitchen and sits down in the chair next to the table already set for dinner.

“Good, that’s good. Let me guess, you’re all over it? First in, last out? Is it almost done?” you word vomit to cover your nervousness.

“Uh,” Joel rubs the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t know.” is all he gives you, clearly trying to avoid getting involved in the discussion.

“Um, you don’t know?”, you laugh lightly in confusion. “How is that possible?”, you ask stirring the vegetables in the pan.

“I’m not involved in the project and I have no idea about the status of the construction;” Joel answers your question and continues, revealing, “I quit. Sold my shares and got out.”

“Yeah,” you draw the vowels, still not looking in his direction, “right. Big, mighty Joel Miller left his enterprise-” you laugh mockingly, but you are met with silence. “You’re joking, right?” You turn to look at him, not believing what you have just heard. You feel your blood freeze in your veins.

Joel shakes his head in denial, “I’ve actually left the city and the only reason I haven’t sold every asset in my name is in case you want to claim any of them. They’re all yours if you want ‘em.” Your mouth is slightly agape, as you try to process what has just been delivered to you.

You open your mouth to protest but he beats you to it, by raising his hand to stop you. “I know you don’t want anything from me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want them either. Not without you. Just take them. Burn them for all I care, liquidate them and use the money as you see fit.”, Joel insists, trying to find ways to convince you.

“You can do that yourself, Joel.” is all you say; you don’t give a damn about his money. Joel nods and leaves it at that, he knows better than to talk about money right now.

You’re curious where he lives now, but you’re not sure it’s appropriate to ask, so you don’t. You prepare dinner and make small talk about simple things like your lives over the past four years. Joel asks you about the ranch, the horses, the chores; you ask him about Tommy and Maria, their newborn son, whom you haven't had a chance to meet yet. None of you dare to break the bubble of normality in which you have effortlessly found yourselves.

It feels like coming home after a long day, the way you both fall into a comfortable silence. Joel speaks your name softly, drawing your attention and your gaze back to him. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re eating?” Just a little longer, let me have it just a little longer.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “no, I mean, what are we doing?” he gestures with his fingers between him and you.

You look at him and then at your plate, playing around with your food, lost in thought. How do you acknowledge that? How do you confess that you’re trying to stretch time? How do you admit that you’re scared out of your mind of how it's all going to end? How do you even come to terms with the fact that you’re not sure you want any of this to end? How do you accept how natural it feels to have him back in your life? How do you admit that after four years the pain has never stopped, but the force, the roughness of it has changed into something softer, yet persistent; never quite going away, lingering.

How do you admit that all the good memories are emerging, because that’s what the mind does, that’s how it protects you, that’s how it helps you survive another day, that’s how it tricks you into falling back into a comfortable routine with him. Even if what binds you together now is his betrayal. How do you admit that you’re afraid of what will become of you once you've finished confessing your truths?

Will he cease to exist for you? Will you cease to exist for him? Will he ever bother to contact you again? Do you really want him to? Will you matter to him or will he move on, start again and shake off the last vestiges of your life together?

Or maybe- maybe he has moved on with his life and that's why he's doing all this, putting all this effort into it. Maybe he is preparing a new, clear path for himself and whoever is in his life right now. Is it her? Is it still, her?

You’re spiraling, lost in your thoughts, biting your lower lip anxiously, like a snake eating its own tail. “Baby?” his baritone voice snaps you out of it, he must have called you several times before you heard him, suddenly aware of hot, fat tears streaming down your face, his thumbs gently brushing them from your cheeks.

You let out a shuddering breath; it’s the first time he’s touched you, in so, so long. And here he is again. The familiar, old friend. He’s pounding on your door now, relentless as he is, screaming for you to let him in, lead the way, take charge, take care of you. You can almost feel his maniacal banging, vibrating through your chest, let me in, let me in, let me in.

Let me in, better angry than scared.

Better angry than scared.

Your shoulders slump, your head feels unbearably heavy. The world has stopped moving. The world is moving too fast. You savor his features as he leans further in, his intoxicating scent filling your nostrils, his eyes pleading, the brown of his irises inviting you to let him in. Joel’s face is that of a man still in love as he continues to caress your skin and you let him.

You let him, because you are a weak person.

You let him because you have been deprived of his touch, of any touch really, for far too long.

You let him because you want to have something for yourself, selfishly.

You let him, because for once you just want to take. Take, take, take.

You let him because you just want to be held and touched and loved.

And even though your mind knows that you shouldn’t want all that from him, your heart allows you that little moment.

“Joel, I’m tired.” you begin, your voice breaking as fresh tears run down your face and onto his thumbs. “Tired to my bones. All I want is to be honest with each other. Do you think we can do that? Can we talk like two adults with nothing left to lose? Can we just be truthful to each other? I know there’s too much history between us, too much hurt and resentment but we both have to try and put it all behind us. I can’t go on like this.”

There’s a stillness in him, realization and clarity dawning on him. He thinks he understands now and it shocks him somehow, as a fact, that there are still things to uncover, to revel in, to acknowledge. Every time he thinks he’s reached the end of this journey, a new sun rises over the horizon.

You don’t need the specifics of his action, at least not right now, or not anymore. What you need is closure. True, honest closure. And that can only come from him baring himself to you. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. We can do anything you want, baby.”, he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing where to begin, but resisting the thought. He leans back in his seat, dropping his hands from your face as he lets out the breath he seems to be holding in and begins.

“Remember that night before your business trip when you came to my office?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess.”, what a strange thing to mention, you think confused. “What about it?”

“You came to me for sex.”, Joel says bluntly, no need to beat around the bush. This is it. This is how he loses you. Once again.

You stare at him and then, for some reason, look down in embarrassment. You’ve fucked him in almost every way you can think of and now the very admission of that fact makes you feel like an exposed nerve. It dawns on you, how far away this era has slipped away. You feel vulnerable as if you’re talking to a total stranger about your most intimate moments. At the same time, you still know exactly how to touch him, how to please him and a light warmth begins to shimmer inside you.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it, but- yeah..”, you admit, still nervously picking at your food with your fork.

Joel sees your apprehension but he presses on. This is what you asked for. “And I refused you.” The look on your face betrays your confusion. Where is he going with this? Only now, he sees more. He can finally see more. The hurt. The disappointment. “What happened next?” is his next question and does he really think that you can remember all these years later? Does he honestly believe that you can recall yourself leaving his office defeated and crying yourself to sleep? “I don’t remember.” you lie, shrugging your shoulders as convincingly as you can muster.

“You said you loved me and then you left.”, Joel reminds you.

“You- you remember all that?”, your eyes are wide and the look on your face vulnerable, Joel wants to pause it all and hold you in his arms.

“I can’t seem to forget anything about you,” he reveals, “believe me, I’ve tried.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh.. why did I do what?”, you narrow your eyes in confusion.

His eyes are piercing yours, provoking you to figure it out on your own.

“Loved you?” He shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

Your eyes widen again, in surprise this time, as you finally see what he means.

“Walked away?” You’re fucking shocked to the core, your voice choked, you’re not sure you spoke out loud.

“Why didn’t you insist?”

Your mouth is wide open, you’re speechless, you flatter your eyelids in search of the right words. This is your second encounter and once again he says what you least expect him to say.

“You refused” you remind him now, “and I respected that.”, your hand moves to rest on your chest, palm open, to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“You know how that sounds, don’t you?”, you mock with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, please,” Joel is quick to respond, his brows knitted in a dismissive frown, “like you could ever force yourself on me.”

You genuinely are at a loss for words, your gaze unable to stay in one place, your mind running a million miles an hour.

Apparently you both are, because Joel is no better at explaining how he feels. “I wanted you to-”, he stops, his eyes still searching yours for the right words, pleading with you to feel him.

Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

It dawns on you. All at once. You see it all playing out. You know exactly how this conversation is going to go. “-claim you? You wanted me to claim you?”, your voice rises, as does your tone. You feel the presence of your abandoned friend again. You don’t want him here. But he creeps in through your veins, nonetheless. He is not giving up. If the pounding doesn’t work then he’ll poison you, slowly and persistently.

“From who? You were supposed to be mine!”, you exclaim exasperated, immediately correcting yourself “-not that I owned you, you know what-”

“That! That’s what I’m talking about!” Joel points his finger at you, “That’s what I needed. To be yours!”

“But you were! Are we really haggling over semantics? Of course you were mine! I just never wanted you to feel suffocated by me. You were not my possession Joel, you were my partner!”

“I swear to you, I would die a happy man, baby.”

“I- I tried so hard to control myself-” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back to your head as you shake it in denial, “-all that hunger inside of me, eating me up-”

“What?” is Joel’s turn to look like a lost puppy. What the fuck is going on here?

“You,” you point a finger at him, “you were my first and last thought every passing day, it wasn’t even healthy anymore, Joel. But- I saw that look in your eyes sometimes, a hunger, one I thought mirrored mine and then it was gone in the blink of an eye and I thought that something was holding you back; I- I was holding you back. I thought- maybe I was undeserving..” you divert your eyes from him, embarrassed at your feeling of inadequacy, “So, I accepted what you gave me if it meant I could have any part of you.”

“Oh, baby..” Joel’s hiding his face in his palms and his heart breaks as he realizes where you both stand. How did the two of you get to this point? How could his judgment be so clouded, how could he be so blind to what was happening under his own roof? How could he be so arrogant as to seek validation, one he didn't even need, from someone else? Someone whose validation he didn't even care about. It didn't matter to him. She didn’t matter to him. How could he not sense the insecurity tantalizing your very core to the point of feeling inadequate? If only you had told him sooner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you mirror his thoughts with your voice.

“What should I say to you? I couldn’t put it into words, even now I'm not sure I can. It was an all-consuming feeling, an absolute necessity, an overwhelming need that was impossible to handle. I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with it. I loved you with such force that it became an obsession. I couldn’t even entertain the idea that you might not want me back in the same way. I felt helpless, vulnerable. How could I come to terms with this? With the realization that I had fucked someone else just to get a rise out of you or to prove to myself that I didn't need you that much after all?”

Joel’s palms are clenched into fists on his thighs, trying to keep himself from pressing his lips against yours. Feelings and desires that had been buried in his subconscious for too long came back as he tried to make you understand.

“A r- so, you did fuck her on our bed on purpose.”

“You asked me that before, darlin’, I promise you I did not.”

“Then how would you provoke me if you didn’t mean for me to find out?” you look at him incredulously.

“I-” Joel winces, “it wasn’t a conscious thought, I just kept fantasizing about you finding out and burning the house down for me and that single image made me so h-” Joel shuts his mouth abruptly, not the best idea to describe to you how fuckin’ hard he got, fantasizing about you while fucking someone else. You, bursting into the bedroom all raging and furious, turning the whole place upside down reclaiming what was rightfully yours.

Him.

What a sick fuck he was. “I swear to you, no. I’m not that fucked up. It was a gigantic lack of judgment, I was fuckin’ drunk, my mind was a mess at that point. That whole week was-” he’s biting his tongue hard to stop himself while rubbing his forehead with his fingers, “I was just being an idiot.”

“The week I was gone?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, ‘snothing.” and he doesn’t elaborate. “Just a bad fuckin’ week.”

The atmosphere suddenly feels suffocating, as if all the words that have spilled out of both your mouths are hovering over your heads like a black cloud. You need some air to clear your mind, so you make your way out of the kitchen without looking back and walk slowly to the porch, sitting on the steps at the bottom of the stairs. You know he will follow. Your bare feet touch the soft soil beneath you and you try to ground yourself through the little patch of earth you call your own. It doesn’t quite work. There’s a beautiful golden glow, a last gift from the parting sun, warming your soul. Everything is going to be all right.

“Strange fantasies we both had.” you say as Joel seats down next to you, the contract once again a barrier between you. “You kept fantasizing about me finding out about your affair-”.

“It wasn’t an affair-” Joel corrects you. “Fine, fine. You imagined that, while I kept fantasizing me holding you so tightly while we fucked that our flesh became one; that’s how deep I needed you inside me, that’s how obsessively I wanted to carry you with me all the time, isn’t that totally fucked up?” you laugh dejectedly.

“I guess we are the same kind of fucked up. If only we could admit it to each other..”

“Did you really feel that I didn’t love you enough?” you whisper, almost too scared to be heard and to get an answer.

“I think we loved each other too much. I think we were both too afraid of losing each other. I think,” Joel pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts and calm his voice, “in our efforts to keep each other we did the exact opposite. More me than you, for sure. I have handled things badly and badly is an understatement.”

“You were always so patient with me. You’d always wait for me to come to you, to take my time. I needed the savage in you, or I thought I did at the time. That desperate thing I felt creeping out of you in stolen glances or bitten lips between your teeth, or when we fucked; no one has ever fucked me like you did. I did see all of you then, you know. And I think you saw all of me. If I made you feel confident or safe enough, you would have talked to me. And if I wasn’t so self-absorbed I would have asked.”

You never thought you’d hear these words from Joel, but all this time of self-reflection has changed him in a way that reminds you of the Joel you fell in love with. The one you could see behind all those layers of self-protection, the one you’d always hoped would emerge for you. And then he goes on, and you wish you knew what was coming so you could protect your heart from being torn to shreds.

“Maybe-” he closes his eyes looking pained, “maybe I was a narcissist. Maybe you gave me all you had and I kept wanting more, maybe I needed every part of you for myself. Maybe I needed you on your knees, on a leash, at my mercy, just to have the illusion of the certainty that you would never leave me. Maybe freedom is for those who can bear it, after all. Hell, maybe I was the one who needed the leash in the end. Maybe you gave me too much credit, my love, when you deemed me worthy of freedom.”

His words are earth-shuttering, obliterating, final. There’s nothing left to be said, at least nothing of substance. Final. The fucking word plays over and over in your head. Final. This is final. You could swear that you have felt every possible kind of pain during these four long years but new depths of agony are being discovered right now. The acid in your stomach makes your throat constrict. You feel petrified.

Joel can sense your distress, his words have been of no comfort to you. Your skin looks pale, covered with a thin layer of cold sweat; you look physically ill. Your forearms rest on your knees and he gently cups your elbow to check in on you. Are you OK? You smile weakly at him, the expression not reaching the corners of your eyes.

“You know I would give anything to take it all back, right?”

Your laughter is more lively now, not with malice or sarcasm, but with a sense of humor.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I do.”, you shake your head in twisted amusement, tilting your head up, to let the last rays of the sun warm your face, maybe bring back some of your lost color. It's getting dark now, the day is coming to an end, the curtains of the last sunlight are almost closed. Your eyes are closed too, your head still tilted back as you laugh to yourself, “You did that backwards, too, you know.”

“What?”

“You have burned everything to the ground, only to realize that you want to get it all back in one piece. I mean it’s- it’s-” you struggle to find the right words but Joel offers one of his own.

“Ridiculous..”

“I was gonna say pointless.. But that’s the thing, Joel. Choosing to be with someone is like faith. You believe because you just know. You don't have to find evidence to prove your choice at every turn, otherwise it’s just exhausting. You choose to trust yourself.”

“Trust me as your partner, you mean, not yourself.”

“Joel, it was never about trusting you..”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand..”

“I’m not sure how to explain it- uh..”, you raise your shoulders and your brows in unison as you shake your head slightly, searching for the words. “Trust is a personal journey. ‘Trust’ doesn't mean ‘trust in you’, I’m not trusting you. No one can be sure of anyone. ‘Trust’ means that I have faith in myself, that even if you hurt me, even if you abandon me, I will not fall apart. And..” you shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself with your hands, “look at me, Joel..”, you finish, suggesting that you’re still here, still standing.

“I am, baby; I am..” Joel replies, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last time he’ll ever have the chance to, utterly compelled by your inner glow.

“I’m not mad at you Joel, not anymore. And I believe you, I really do. But I can’t get that scene out of my head. I just can’t. I can still hear the sounds, I can even recall the way you smelled when you were standing next to me.”

His hands are shaking.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, really.”

“I know.”, his voice is barely audible.

“I think you’ve done enough of that yourself. Maybe it’s time to forgive yourself?”

“Do you?” Do you, really? Do you forgive him after all that has been said? Do all these confessions illuminate the facts from a different perspective? Does it change what he did and what you went through? And if so, does that mean you're letting him go? Are you leaving him behind? Is he leaving you behind? Why is it so hard to let go? Why do you choose the safety of the known, even when it hurts you?

You choose not to answer and instead firmly insist, “You have to forgive yourself, Joel, it’s okay.” Be the better person. If not for him, then for yourself. Let him go.

“I can’t do that.”, Joel is adamant, shaking his head while he rejects your request.

“Yes, you can.” you urge him again. “As I can and do.” Let him go.

Joel never thought he would listen to those words coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t deserve them. He hasn’t earned them. “You forgive me?”, he repeats in utter shock and disbelief.

“Yes.” Loud and clear as daylight.

“I- You can’t- I don’t- I don’t deserve that.” Joel feels like he’s drowning in your so graciously offered Holy Grail, desperately trying to keep his head above the waters of your absolution.

“I can’t be the judge of that, Joel, hell, I can’t be the judge of anyone. The way I see it, you chose your actions and I chose mine. You chose to hurt me and I chose to walk away. We both lost something. Have we not suffered enough, Joel?” you ask him honestly.

“I don’t want to presume, but- isn’t it a great burden to carry on your shoulders when you try to move on? All this anger, all that bitterness?” you search his eyes for an answer but he doesn’t give you one.

You continue, hoping to get through to him. “Your feelings are your burden Joel and it doesn’t matter if I forgive you. That’s why it is you who needs to forgive yourself.”

His eyes still refuse to meet yours, stubbornly glued to the ground. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for me. We need to move forward, both of us.” is the last thing you say to him, not knowing if he even listened to half of what you just said.

You both fall into a thoughtful silence, but something you said is bugging him. He can’t quite figure it out, so he turns to look at you, to savor you while he still has the chance. He knows that his time is limited.

You’re just sitting there with him, trying to comfort him, you of all people. You seem lighter now, fidgeting absentmindedly with your fingers as if some of your burden has already been lifted. And as his gaze sweeps over you, he sees it again. He sees the white shirt hugging your body and he knows what’s troubling him.

I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume.

His heart beats rapidly in his chest, panic rising inside him.

“I’ve been with you for the last four years.”

“Excuse me?” your hands freeze as you turn to face him, clearly confused.

“You said you didn’t want to presume anything and I need to set the record straight. There was and is no other woman in my life except you.”

“Joel,” you blush shyly, “this is none of my business, you are free-”

“No. No. I need you to know this, it’s important to me. I meant everything I said. You have done nothing wrong. My feelings for you have never changed-”

“Joel, please..” you beg him to stop, you can’t have this conversation now, it’s too soon. No, you’re wrong. It’s too late; too soon means there’s a future ahead of you. A future where you both fit in the same universe.

“I don’t want you to think that I came all the way out here just to tie up some loose ends and move on. That is not what this is about.”

“If you expect me to tell you about my personal life..” your what now?

“No, I don’t. And I don’t think I could handle it, anyway. You are a free woman and you deserve the world. Unlike me; I don’t deserve anything and I’ll never be free of you.”

Your chin is now trembling and you bite your lower lip to stop the involuntary muscle contraction. You can’t decipher if it’s from anger for the way things came to be or from deep, excruciating sadness for how Joel feels. For how he makes you feel.

“Free woman, huh?”, you whisper bitterly, looking down at your feet, willing yourself not to cry.

“Yes, free, as you should always have been and I’m sorry I couldn’t see it sooner.”

Joel then picks up the divorce papers from the floor next to him as he’s fishing a pen out of his pocket. He stares at you and then at the blank space where his signature should be, next to yours. He splays his palm over the last page as if to straighten it out, but it almost looks like he’s caressing it. He brings the ball of the pen to the white surface and for a moment his hand lingers over it. He doesn’t dare look at you again, his resolve is not that strong. Finally, finally he signs, filling the empty spot and he hands you the contract. It’s a strange moment, the one before the signature and the one after it.

Everything seems to be the same; it is just a signature.

Everything feels completely different; it is not just a signature.

Your fingertips brush his as you reach out to take it, the touch sending shivers down your spine. Your slightly trembling hands hold the papers gently, not sure you wanna hold on to them or scatter them on the ground. Your thumb swipes softly over his signature.

You feel it, now. You feel the ground beneath your bare feet, the warmth of the earth, the weight of your footing. The falling has stopped. The feather finally rests. You have landed.

Joel moves to stand on his feet, as you keep staring at the drying ink, when you feel something fall from above onto your thumb; but you can’t see anything as it is immediately absorbed by the hungry pores of the paper, slightly smudging his signature. You look up to catch him as he dries his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Free as a bird, baby, ready to fly over the world.”, Joel smiles at you with a look of reverence and devotion in his eyes.

You picture the floating feather in your head and smile back at him with a serenity he hasn’t seen in a long time.

“I think I just want to walk for a while. One step at a time.”

He nods, his eyes still full of emotion and you watch as he begins to walk slowly towards his truck, when suddenly he turns his body to face you but continues to walk backward in the same direction.

“Hey!” he calls to you with a mischievous smile, raising his chin to you.

“Yeah?” you answer, your voice wavering slightly as you try to hide your smile.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?” he asks as he reaches for his driver’s door and opens it, waiting for your answer, which never comes because you think he’s joking. But he continues to stare at you, with no expectations, quietly, earnestly, sincerely, with a soft, shy smile on his lips. Oh.

Oh.

“Joel..” is all you breathe out, closing your eyes for a moment before you look at him again, because his name is all that is left in your very being right now. Joel.

He seems lighter, too.

“Maybe, one day..?”

“Yeah.. Maybe, one day..”

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre @leggtostandon @sarahhxx03

@zliteraturehoe @msmorningstaarr @gossipgirl-03 @vabeachazn @joeldjarin

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riovidalupdates · 1 month ago

Text

LAST GIRL STANDING - i.

part ii.

“I’m not asking you to stay. I’m asking if this was ever real?” - Wanda Maximoff

“The issue with time is that it’s endless, yet, there’s never enough. How does it fit with us?” - Rio Vidal

“You were never a priority, but you became one that I can’t lose now.” - Agatha Harkness

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader, agatha harkness x fem!reader, and rio vidal x fem!reader

summary: you’ve come to learn that you can love more than one person—because you love them in different ways. the problem: they love you in one way. so, who are you in love with and who gets hurt?

warnings: cursing, angst, intimate moments but not sex, and other stuff that i'll add as time goes on.

notes: this one has been in my drafts for a long time. i did a little bit of revision and editing, but i am busy and i do want to get this story going. as it goes on I will be more efficient with the editing. it is also a college au so there is no witches or anything like that, but other works will be! enjoy! chapters will be longer and the writing will get better. It’s been awhile since I’ve actually written a story, but I’ve been working on so many other projects and I had this all planned out before I got my new job.

word count: 1.4k

・❥・

There was never a time where you ever thought you’d be losing your sanity. Months ago, you only ever known the beauty of peace, having full control over your thoughts and emotions with no consequences. Where does the chaos abruptly begin, how does it begin, and why does it begin?

Because fuck all that, why do you have to be involved in a mess that you didn’t ask for?

You stared out of your dorm window, tracing the movement of students below as they hurried between classes. The campus was alive with energy—laughter, chatter, and the constant shuffle of feet on the worn pathways—but it all felt distant to you, like watching life happen through a glass pane. From the outside, you seemed well-adjusted. A few close friends, decent grades, a knack for blending in at social events. But lately, you had begun to feel a quiet, persistent void growing inside, one that friendship, academic success, and even casual flings couldn’t quite fill.

It wasn't that you were lonely in the traditional sense. In fact, you had friends—great friends who provided the utmost support in all that you do. Natasha Romanoff from work, Kate Bishop from short-film club, Steve Rogers from gym (he was also Natasha’s boyfriend), Tony Stark who crashed into your car the first day of move-in (he paid for all damages after you punched him), and Wanda Maximoff, your best friend. Wanda had been by your side for years, a constant source of home. There was so much to your overall relationship with her that it couldn’t be replicated with the others or anyone. Even if you were to try.

But no matter how much you spent time with Wanda, she found her footing in rather quick. And while you don’t want to assume things are going well for her, you could at least tell she was happiest when she was in the arms of her obnoxious, academically skilled boyfriend, Vision. Vision who is ahead of the IT program, the captain of the golf team, and somehow Tony’s coworker at Stark’s Industries (who cares about some intellectual freak? Not you).

Anyway, it felt like there was something missing, some deeper connection you couldn’t quite grasp. Sometimes, you’d feel yourself pulling back in conversations, faking a smile here and there when noticing yourself drifting out of sync.

You sigh as you turned away from the window, grabbing your backpack, and slinging it over your shoulder. Another day of classes to get to, papers to turn in, and your typical routine to follow. It all felt so automatic, like living on autopilot.

Perhaps there was something you weren’t doing. Maybe you were actively doing something to avoid fulfilling that aspect of void?

Your phone buzzed on the desk—Wanda.

“Dinner tonight?” She asks once you pick up. “And I swear if you say no, I am going to drive to your class and drag you out myself.”

You considered telling her no for a moment but it’s Wanda and because of that you say, “Sure. Just don’t barge in like last time. Felt like I got in trouble with my mother…” Despite your growing sense of detachment, you couldn’t bring herself to decline. You’ve been avoiding her like the plague. She’s your best friend and has asked to hang out for the last month or so only for you to be nowhere. Questions were beginning to rise, and you weren’t ready to answer any of them.

Her laughter echoed through and you kind of forget that you were falling into a hole of emptiness. “Look, I gotta go, I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah. See you, dekta.”

Dekta. It was always that.

As you made your way across campus, weaving through the throngs of students, you felt a heaviness settle in your chest. Classes, work, clubs, and repeat. How was it that you could be surrounded by people, involved in their lives, and still feel like an outsider looking in?

You loved your friends, or at least you thought you did, but lately, even that felt like a lie you told yourself. You enjoyed your courses. So what if you have to stay up until 2am for shoots and editing, you wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t enjoy it. Actually, you were late to register, and this was kind of a last minute decision. And you were president for the short film club, but you kind of are guessing why you’re doing this all because you hate people.

The reality is, it’s to avoid facing the deeper truth: that connection, the real kind, the kind that made you feel alive and seen. Not just from relationships, courses, and social life.

Was this what your life was going to be? Always on the fringes, never fully connecting? You wanted more but didn’t know how to get it. Maybe you didn’t even know what “more” really was.

You were good at pretending everything was fine, good at putting on a show of contentment. But deep down, you knew you were waiting for something—or someone—to break through that glass pane that kept you at arm’s length from everyone around.

But until then, you’d keep going, navigating your college life as best as you could, feeling more like an observer than a participant.

・❥・

You sat across from Wanda at your usual spot in the campus dining hall, picking at her salad as Wanda animatedly recounted the latest drama involving her boyfriend, Vision. You nodded along, making the appropriate sounds of sympathy and surprise, but part of you couldn't help but tune out the problem.

“I swear, sometimes he just doesn’t listen,” Wanda continued, exasperation creeping into her voice. “Last night I..." She sighed, looking down at her food. "I told him I needed space and time to collect my thoughts about where this is going, but he kept calling and texting, so we could talk it out..."

You forced yourself back into the conversation. “Sounds like he’s not respecting your boundaries,” you offered, glancing up at Wanda. You couldn’t help the slight resentment that crept in whenever Vision came up. There was always an unspoken tension in your friendship, one that emerged whenever Wanda talked about her boyfriend.

You didn’t know exactly why you disliked him—maybe it was his arrogant demeanor, or the way he always seemed to treat Wanda as an accessory rather than an equal. She would often vent about the small ways in which he let her down, like forgetting their date plans or brushing off her opinions, but then she would always follow it up with some form of an excuse that he cares. You would just nod along, hiding the skepticism behind a supportive smile.

"Tell me about it,” Wanda huffed, shaking her head. “It's a flaw of his and when the time is right, we'll discuss it and how we can better ourselves. Enough about me though, how about you? Anything exciting that requires you to get out of that hermit crab shell of yours? Maybe with...that TA? Angus, right?"

You snickered but also couldn’t help but notice how Wanda seemed to skirt around anything serious about her relationship with Vision (what a prick). There was a glint of something—maybe uncertainty, maybe resignation—in her eyes when she spoke about him. You wondered if Wanda was just as skilled at pretending everything was fine as you were. It made you feel a little less alone, knowing you weren’t the only one hiding something.

Yet, despite your doubts about the boyfriend, you never voiced your concerns outright. The last thing you wanted was to come across as jealous or possessive. Deep down, you wondered if there was a part of you that simply didn’t want to share Wanda—a feeling you quickly buried before it could grow into something more troubling.

Your face flushed at the mention of Agatha, and you quickly took a sip of water to hide the embarrassment. “Her name is Agnes,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes for effect. So, maybe you kind of lied. Only because you didn't want Wanda to track and stalk the girl. "And she's just intriguing..."

"Intriguing, huh?” Wanda teased. “You should talk to her more. Or, you know, talk to her at all.”

“Very funny,” You shot back. “It’s not that simple.”

But maybe it was. Maybe if you could muster up the courage to actually talk to Agatha, you’d feel less like you were floating aimlessly and more like you were taking control of your own life. You could already hear Wanda’s voice in your head, encouraging you to just go for it, to not overthink it, to take a chance.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #rio vidal #wandavision #witches #wanda maximoff x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x reader

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rootedinrevisions · 2 months ago

Text

Unplanned Journeys: Part 1

SUMMARY: You’ve been feeling off—tired, anxious, and full of doubt. When the realization hits that you could be pregnant, your world shifts. As you struggle with the weight of the situation and avoid Jake, the truth becomes impossible to ignore. When you finally tell Jake, the conversation is filled with tension and fear.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the Anon who sent the request for this in! I hope you enjoy it! Also, there will be AT LEAST two more parts to this coming. I haven't decided yet how long I want to make this story quite yet.

WARNINGS: Angst. Unplanned pregnancy.

WORD COUNT: 4.1K

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891

If you would like to be added to my Tag List please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

It started as something small—just a slight sluggishness that you chalked up to long hours and a busy schedule. After all, everyone had days where they felt off, right? You didn’t think much of it at first. Maybe you hadn’t been drinking enough water or were pushing yourself too hard at the gym with the new workout routine you had taken up. But the fatigue lingered, heavier than usual. The exhaustion hit you mid-morning, the kind that left you wanting to crawl back into bed despite a full night’s sleep.

By day three, the headaches came. Sharp and persistent, not debilitating but enough to make focusing at work a struggle. You found yourself squinting at the screen, rubbing at your temples, wondering if your caffeine intake had anything to do with it. Coffee had always been your crutch, but suddenly it wasn’t helping. That in itself seemed odd—coffee usually gave you a little boost, but lately, it just left you feeling more nauseated than energized.

As you sat at your desk, half-listening to a Zoom meeting you were supposed to be engaged in, you absentmindedly reached for your phone. Flipping through your calendar, you skimmed the past couple of weeks, your thumb freezing as a realization crept in. You were late. Not by a lot—but enough to notice.

You glanced at the calendar again, frowning. Surely, it couldn’t be that. Your cycle was sometimes a day or two off. It wasn’t something to worry about. But still… you couldn’t shake the feeling, the quiet voice in the back of your mind that whispered that maybe this wasn’t just an irregular month.

No. You shook your head slightly, trying to clear the thought. You were on birth control. You and Jake had been careful. This was just your mind overreacting, connecting dots that weren’t there. But then a new thought slithered its way into your consciousness. A few weeks ago, you’d been sick—laid out with that stubborn cold. You’d gone to the doctor and gotten antibiotics.

Antibiotics…

Your breath caught in your throat as you suddenly remembered the doctor’s warning. Something about your birth control being less effective. At the time, you’d been too focused on just wanting to feel better, not giving much thought to how the medication could affect anything else.

The nausea from your coffee earlier that morning felt more like a bad omen now.

You leaned back in your chair, your heart thudding a little harder in your chest. No. It couldn’t be that. You were just being paranoid. But now, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The headaches. The exhaustion. The nausea from foods that had never made you nauseous before. Your pulse quickened as you stared at the calendar, connecting the dots. Could it really be? The thought hung there, weighty and terrifying. What if you were…?

The panic bubbled up, threatening to spill over, but you pushed it down. You needed answers, not speculation. You couldn’t keep spiraling like this. There was only one way to know for sure.

Without a second thought as soon as you were clocked out at 5:01pm, you grabbed your keys and purse, practically bolting for the door. There was a CVS just a few blocks away. The sooner you took the test, the sooner you could put this fear to rest.

As you hurried toward your car, your thoughts raced alongside you, a thousand different scenarios flashing in your mind. What if it’s positive? What would Jake say? Would he leave?

The short drive back to your apartment felt like miles, the little white CVS bag clutched in your hand felt heavier than it should have been. Each minute only magnified the gnawing uncertainty in your chest.

The moment you stepped through your front door, the cool air of your small apartment hit you, but it did little to calm the heat of your rising anxiety. You shut the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as if delaying what you knew you had to do would somehow make the looming possibility disappear.

Your heart raced as you walked to the bathroom, the test still tucked in its box as though keeping it sealed would keep the truth hidden a little longer. You set it on the counter, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You looked tired. Your skin was paler than usual, dark circles faintly visible under your eyes. Maybe you were just exhausted. You had been working on a project at work that had a pretty tight deadline. Maybe it was finally catching up to you. Maybe you were imagining all of this. Making up something that wasn't there.

With a shaky breath, you turned away from the mirror, reaching for the box. The sound of the packaging tearing open seemed too loud in the quiet apartment. You took one of the two pregnancy tests out and set it on the counter. Your hands trembled slightly as you read over the instructions, even though you didn’t really need them—you knew how this worked. Open the package. Pee on the stick. Wait. But reading them gave you a few more seconds before facing the truth.

You took a deep breath and finally did what needed to be done. Afterward, you placed the test down, careful not to look at it yet, and set the timer on your phone. You couldn’t bear to watch the lines form, so you forced yourself to sit down on the edge of the bathtub, pressing the heels of your palms into your knees, grounding yourself while you waited. Three minutes felt like an eternity.

Your mind raced, jumping between panicked thoughts and desperate rationalizations. There was no way. You and Jake had been careful, hadn’t you? You’d been taking birth control for years with no issues. And yet… there had been that one night, the night you felt better after being sick. You remembered how he had pulled you close, his warmth intoxicating after those few days of feeling terrible, his touch erasing the last of your discomfort. It had been one of those spontaneous moments, the kind you didn’t overthink. But now, it felt like maybe you should have.

The timer on your phone went off, snapping you out of your thoughts with a jarring sound. You inhaled sharply, your heart thudding hard against your chest as you reached for the test. With your hand trembling, you flipped it over, your breath catching in your throat.

Two pink lines stared back at you.

Your vision blurred as the world seemed to tilt for a moment. No. You blinked hard, clearing your eyes, then looked again.

Two pink lines.

You felt the floor drop out from under you, a heavy weight settling in your stomach. You set the test down, unable to keep looking at it, and hurriedly reached for the second test in the box. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe you’d done something wrong. Hands shaking even more now, you repeated the process, this time pacing the bathroom as the second timer ticked down.

But deep down, you already knew.

The timer buzzed again, and with a knot tightening in your throat, you picked up the second test.

Two pink lines stared back at you, a confirmation you weren’t ready for.

You sat back down on the edge of the tub, the reality of it all sinking in, a cold rush of panic sweeping over you. This couldn’t be happening. How could this be happening?

Your thoughts went to Jake. How would he react? Would he freak out? Would he be upset? Would he leave? End things with you? Your chest tightened at the idea of telling him. You’d only been together a few months, and even though things were going well, you couldn’t help but feel that this would be too much, too soon.

You pressed your hands to your face, trying to steady your breathing, but your mind wouldn’t stop racing. Images of Jake flashed through your mind—his charming smile, the way he’d pull you into his arms without a second thought, the lighthearted banter that had drawn you to him. Your relationship was going strong. But was that enough? Were you enough? Would it be enough to survive something as life-changing as this?

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away. Crying wouldn’t help. You needed to think, to figure out what you were going to do next. But your thoughts were a jumbled mess of fear, uncertainty, and—oddly enough—a tiny flicker of something else. Something you didn’t want to admit. Hope.

You shook your head, trying to push the thought aside. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to be feeling this lost, this scared, not when the rest of your life could be so drastically altered by a couple of pink lines.

But there was no denying it now. You were pregnant.

And you had no idea what to do next.

The next morning, the reality of what had happened still weighed heavily on you. It had settled in overnight, creeping into your mind every time you closed your eyes, so sleep was hardly an escape. You lay in bed longer than usual, staring at the ceiling, the events of yesterday playing on a loop. The two pink lines. Your pounding heart. The panic that had taken root in your chest, now a constant, gnawing ache.

But beyond the overwhelming fear of your situation was an even greater question: Jake. How were you going to tell him? Or… should you even tell him yet?

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, startling you out of your thoughts. You didn’t have to check to know who it was. Jake had sent a text earlier in the morning—a simple “Good morning” with a smiley face—and you had left it unanswered.

Now, a second message appeared, more direct this time:

Jake: You okay? Haven’t heard from you.

You swallowed hard, staring at the screen. You didn’t know what to say to him, didn’t know how to talk to him without the weight of your secret making everything feel wrong. Your thumb hovered over the keyboard as your mind scrambled for something—anything—normal to respond with.

You: Yeah, sorry. Been busy.

You stared at the message for a moment, guilt settling in your chest as you hit send. You hated how distant the response felt, hated how you couldn’t bring yourself to say more. But what could you say?

The seconds stretched on before your phone buzzed again.

Jake: Busy? You trying to avoid me?? ;)

The words on the screen were playful, a light jab that might’ve made you smile any other day. But today, it only made you feel worse. He was catching on. Jake always had a knack for reading people, and now he was reading you, seeing right through your weak attempts to act normal.

You set your phone aside, deciding not to answer for now. You’d figure out what to tell him later. But for now, you just needed space. Space to think. Space to process. Space to make sense of the storm that had taken over your mind.

The day dragged on, and you kept your distance. Every time your phone buzzed with a message from him, your anxiety spiked, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to respond beyond brief, one-word replies. You were trapped in this bubble of avoidance, knowing full well that it wasn’t sustainable but unable to break free of it just yet.

Later that evening the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over The Hard Deck as you stepped inside. The familiar sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air, but they felt distant, almost muffled, as you made your way to the bar.

Jake was already there, leaning against the counter, chatting with a few of the guys. His laughter rang out, and your heart sank a little. How could you keep this secret from him when he looked so carefree?

“Hey, you made it!” Jake grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement as he reached out to pull you closer. You forced a smile in return, feeling the weight of your secret settle heavily on your chest.

You settled onto a barstool beside him, ordering a Diet Coke, the bubbly drink a stark contrast to the cold beer he and the others were enjoying. As Penny placed your drink in front of you, Jake’s gaze narrowed slightly.

“Diet Coke?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not feeling under the weather? I thought you’d be grabbing a beer with me.”

“Just not in the mood for one tonight,” you replied, trying to sound casual.

“Come on, it’s Thursday night! You can’t tell me you don’t want to kick back with a cold one.” He leaned in closer, a playful grin on his face. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft on me.”

You chuckled lightly, but it felt forced. “I just have a lot on my mind with that project deadline tomorrow I told you about.”

“Just thinking about work, huh?” he asked, his voice low, laced with concern.

You nodded, a little too quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tremor in your hand as you raised the glass to your lips.

Later that night after beating Rooster and Bob in games of pool Jake made his way back over to where you were still sitting on the bar stool.

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight. You sure you’re okay?” He said as he put his hand on your back and began gently rubbing it.

“I’m fine,” you replied, a little too rehearsed, the words falling from your lips like an empty promise. “Just a lot on my mind with that deadline tomorrow.”

“Right.” He nodded, though the frown on his face told you he wasn’t entirely convinced. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer, but instead of the warmth you usually felt, you tensed.

You could feel him studying you, as if he were searching for something just beneath the surface. His touch, usually comforting, felt heavy now. “You’re not really laughing tonight,” he pointed out, the concern in his tone deepening. “I mean, that joke from Phoenix was hilarious, and you didn’t even crack a smile.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “Just a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

Jake tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “You sure that’s all? Because it feels like something else is going on.”

You swallowed hard, the truth lingering just beneath your tongue. He deserved to know, but the thought of revealing your pregnancy sent waves of panic coursing through you. Instead, you looked down at your drink, tracing your finger over the rim of the glass. “Really, Jake. I’m just... thinking about everything.”

“Okay, but you know I’m here for you, right?” His voice softened, and you could see the worry etched across his features. “If you need to talk, just say the word. I can take you home. We can go back to my place. Whatever you want.”

You nodded again, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “I know. I appreciate it.”

The night wore on, and the laughter and camaraderie around you seemed to grow louder while you felt more isolated in your thoughts. As Jake tried to draw you back into the fold, the distance between you only seemed to widen. Each time he reached out, you instinctively pulled away, hiding the truth that threatened to spill from your lips.

You were trapped in a delicate dance, and with each passing moment, the weight of your secret pressed heavier against your chest. You took a deep breath, knowing that soon, you’d have to face him. But for now, all you could do was keep the facade intact, holding on to the last threads of normalcy before the storm would break.

When Jake asked you to meet him at The Hard Deck the following evening, your heart sank. He was trying, reaching out to spend time with you like always, but the idea of seeing him, pretending that everything was normal, felt impossible. Your chest tightened as you typed out your reply.

You: Can’t tonight. Sorry.

You could almost imagine the confusion on his face as he read your message. Normally, you would’ve jumped at the chance to meet up with him, to sit at the bar with him, sharing drinks and flirty comments. But not tonight. Not now.

You spent the evening in your apartment, pacing, thinking. The truth was suffocating you, and the longer you put off telling him, the worse it became. But fear gripped you every time you thought about saying the words out loud. What if this changed everything? What if Jake didn’t want this? What if he… walked away?

The knot in your stomach twisted tighter at the thought. You tried to shake it off, tried to reassure yourself that you were overthinking things, but the fear wouldn’t let go.

You didn’t know Jake’s thoughts on kids, on the future, on anything beyond the easy, carefree nature of your fairly new relationship. And now, this could upend everything.

When your phone buzzed again later that night, you ignored it. You couldn’t deal with it. Couldn't deal with him. Not yet.

But avoiding Jake was harder than you expected.

The next evening, as you sat curled up on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, you heard a knock on your door. Your heart skipped a beat. For a moment, you froze, staring blankly at the door. Who would be at your door right now?

Another knock. Louder this time.

Your pulse quickened as you pushed yourself up from the couch and made your way toward the door. You peered through the peephole, and your stomach dropped.

It was Jake.

You hesitated, every muscle in your body suddenly tense. He had come to see you. Maybe he was worried. Or maybe he was just tired of your evasiveness. You couldn’t tell. All you knew was that he was here, standing on the other side of your door, and you had to face him.

With a shaky breath, you unlocked the door and slowly opened it. There he was, standing in the hallway, his hands tucked in his jacket pockets, his usual easygoing smile playing on his lips. But there was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite read.

“Hey,” he said, looking up to meet your eyes.

He leaned in slightly as if to kiss you. Instinctively, you took a small step back, the distance between you immediately noticeable.

Jake’s smile faltered.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with concern. He tilted his head, studying your face. “You’ve been avoiding me for days. Didn’t even want to meet me at the Hard Deck tonight. That’s not like you.”

You swallowed hard, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ve just… been busy,” you muttered, knowing how weak it sounded.

“Busy. Right. Well, your deadline at work was up at 4:59, so what's your excuse now?” Jake repeated, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Are you avoiding me? Is something wrong?”

Your chest tightened as he pushed, his words cutting through your thin layer of avoidance. He wasn’t letting this go. And you didn’t know how to handle it.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, avoiding eye contact. “It’s nothing.”

Jake stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. “You sure about that?” His voice was firmer now, the playful edge gone. “Because this isn’t you. You've barely texted me all week. Then you acted like you were trying to avoid me like the plague last night at the bar. You blew me off tonight, and now… what? You’re acting like you don’t even want me here?” He paused and just looked at you, shaking his head. "Do you want me here? Do you want me to leave?"

The guilt hit you like a tidal wave, and you could feel your emotions starting to bubble to the surface. You tried to swallow it down, to push the panic aside, but it was too much. The pressure was too much.

“Jake, I—” You stopped, biting your lip as your vision blurred with tears you hadn’t realized were forming. “I just… I don’t know how to—”

He took a step forward, his voice softening again. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It's just...you're scaring me, babe. You're making me think you're trying to hide something. Just talk to me. Whatever it is, we can figure it out. But don’t shut me out like this. ”

You blinked, fighting back the tears. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to tell him. But fear kept your throat tight, the words trapped inside.

He reached for your hand, his touch gentle, and grounding, but even that felt too much right now.

You pulled away, stepping back toward the living room.

“I… I don’t know if I can do this right now,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jake frowned, confused. “What do you mean? Can’t do what?”

You knew you couldn’t avoid the truth much longer.

“Jake, I’m pregnant.” you blurted out, your voice breaking. The words spilled out before you could stop them.

The room went completely still. For a moment, Jake didn’t react, his expression frozen in surprise as if he hadn’t quite processed what you had just said.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your ears. “I… I took a test a few days ago. It was positive.” The words felt heavy, hanging in the air between you, and you could barely look at him. “I didn’t know how to tell you… I didn’t even know how to deal with it myself.”

The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating, as Jake stood there, his gaze locked on you. You could see the shock in his eyes, the way his mind seemed to be working through what you had just revealed. Your stomach twisted in knots, the fear bubbling up again. You had no idea how he was going to react. No idea what this meant for the two of you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jake exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back, processing. His face was unreadable, and the silence between you became unbearable.

“I… I didn’t see that coming,” he said finally, his voice low and rough around the edges.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look at him. “Neither did I,” you whispered, your throat tight. “I’ve been freaking out, Jake. I didn’t know how to handle this. I didn’t know if I should tell you, or if you even—”

He held up a hand, stopping you mid-sentence. “Wait… did you think I wouldn’t want to know? Were you thinking about not telling me?”

His tone wasn’t angry, but it was laced with disbelief, and you realized what you had implied. Your heart clenched as you met his gaze, seeing the hurt in his eyes.

“I didn’t know what to think,” you admitted, your voice shaking as tears started to form in your eyes. “I was scared, Jake. I still am. I don’t know what this means for us, or for anything.”

Jake took a deep breath, his eyes softening as he stepped toward you. His hand reached out, gently taking yours, his touch warm and steady. “Baby, I get that this is… huge. It’s not something either of us expected. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words sent a wave of relief washing over you, but the fear was still there, lingering at the edges. You had been so caught up in your panic that you hadn’t allowed yourself to hope for this—that Jake wouldn’t run, that he wouldn’t leave you to handle this alone.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Because I don’t even know if I’m ready for this.”

Jake squeezed your hand gently, his eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know what the future holds, and yeah, this is scary as hell. But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

The weight of his words hit you like a tidal wave, and for the first time in days, you felt a sliver of hope break through the fear. You weren’t alone in this. Jake wasn’t going to leave.

The tears that had welled up in your eyes finally broke free and started to roll down your cheeks as you looked at him, the emotion finally overwhelming you.

“I was so scared,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I didn’t know if you’d want this. If you’d want me.”

Jake’s expression softened even further, and without a word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt as the reality of everything finally hit you. But this time, it didn’t feel as crushing. With Jake’s arms around you, it felt just a little bit lighter.

“This isn't your fault, baby. We both made this baby. I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured into your hair, his voice steady. “We’re in this together.”

You stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in his embrace, the fear still there but no longer as suffocating. With Jake by your side, you knew you could face whatever came next.

For the first time since seeing those two pink lines, you allowed yourself to believe that everything might just be okay.

#Top Gun Hangman #Top Gun Hangman Fanfiction #Top Gun Hangman Fanfic #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Jake Seresin Fanfic #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin x reader #Hangman x reader #Hangman Angst #Jake Seresin Angst

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the-modern-typewriter · 10 months ago

Note

hi! i adore your writing!! please consider this a request for a bit you'd like to write! a coupon, if you will, to use when you have a story that you're itching to tell, or when you need to put words on the screen but don't feel like using a prompt. please snuggle some kitties, drink a big glass of water, and have a bright and lovely day <333

"You didn't try to stop me," the once-villain said.

The hero glanced around, though they weren't surprised to see the familiar figure standing on the other side of the room. They turned back to the cracked window, lit cigarette dangling between their fingers. They exhaled a mouthful of smoke.

"Would there have been a point?" the hero asked.

"You normally find one. Morality, yada yada. That pet peeve of yours."

"Mm. How bad off are they? Can I send a doctor down or is it, like, more of a clean up crew situation?"

"Why didn't you stop me?"

"Did you want me to stop you? Or try to?"

The villain crossed the room to stand next to them, leaning over the window too to catch some of the fresh night air. Their hands were perfectly steady, but a little white, on the sill. "I'm merely surprised you didn't."

"I don't approve, if that's what you're asking."

"Of course not."

"But I guess I understand, given what they said. There was no way you weren't going to retaliate," the hero shrugged. "And I...I don't know. Maybe I'm just not that stupid."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, I feel icky."

"What a day."

"You didn't answer my question."

"They're not dead," the villain said. "As much as they'd deserve it."

The hero could feel the villain's gaze trained on their face, intent, probing. Something else that the hero would have to glance over again to read, but didn't quite dare to.

"Oh?" they managed.

"Figured you probably wouldn't like me killing them," the villain said, lightly. "Is that why you left? Because you already knew you'd got in my head?"

The hero snorted, even as their heart stuttered. "I had no idea what you'd do."

"No idea at all?"

"Eh, hopes. Dreams. Vague aspirations. Again, I'm not stupid enough to have expectations for you. You'd take it as a challenge."

It was the villain's turn to snort.

"Are you alright?" the villain asked.

"I'm pretty sure I should be asking you that, or something."

"I'll be fine."

"Well, fine, then."

A small silence stretched between them. The villain snagged the cigarette, taking a drag, before stubbing it out. Their hands shook a little then. "Disgusting habit."

"Bite me."

"Are you going to be fine?"

The hero glanced over again, before they could stop themselves. The villain's expression was not exactly soft, but it was somewhere in the ballpark of affection. Dangerous. Confessional. Too full of understanding on exactly what it meant for the hero to have done what they did, and why.

"I'm going to see about that doctor." The hero straightened up, squaring their shoulders. "Don't wait up."

But, of course, the villain did.

#heroes and villains #villains and heroes #hero x villain #idk #complicated dynamics?#writing #writing snippet #story snippet #creative writing #villains

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marsbutterfly · 2 years ago

Text

The Boy Who Cried Your Name

a/n: HI!!!! I'M BACK AFTER SUCH A LONG HIATUS!!!! I MISSED YOU GUYS! This story was based on this postI hope you all enjoy!

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: none, just fluff <3

2:07am > manjiro: ok this movie genuinely seems really stupid 2:08am > manjiro: i think i'll watch it and tell you all about it during our date tomorrow. 2:11am > manjiro: oh shit, i've seen this actor somewhere 2:13am > manjiro: i know you're asleep but like 2:13am > manjiro: when you wake up can you help me find out this dude's name? 2:13am > manjiro: *image*

It's a Tuesday night, or at least it was when you first went to sleep. The nonstop vibration of your phone combined with the light that comes from it is enough to disturb your deep slumber.

You grunt, eyes squinting as you try to adjust to the brightness. Your warm hand comes out from its place underneath your pillow, only to be received by a rush of cold air that comes from the AC. Your fingers tremble gently while trying your best to type in your passcode, though your brain isn't fully awake.

Ultimately you decide to simply shine the phone on your face in the hopes that it will recognize your features even in the dark of your room.

Before it can even unlock, another notification.

2:16am > manjiro: i am learning so much from this movie already 2:17am > manjiro: did you fucking know that you can make your own butter if you shake milk for long enough?

You can't help but giggle at the sight, 17+ messages from Mikey. Before the two of you became a real couple, he would hardly ever text first, maybe because he could never remember where he put his phone in the first place or maybe it was because he was actually afraid of getting his feelings hurt, after all, a girl like you was hard to come by.

When the two of you decided to become official, his texts became more and more frequent. Most nights, you were forced to put your phone on Do Not Disturb because you desperately needed a good night's rest and lord knows you wouldn't be able to achieve that goal as long as Mikey was awake.

Your thumbs aren't moving at the speed you would like them to, your vision is still partially blurry and your throat is so dry that it feels like you are swallowing nails. Nevertheless, you open the messages to encounter a great variety of content.

Tired eyes skim through the various paragraphs, some quite lengthy as he declares his endless love for you and everything you have done / do for him on a daily basis, describing how you are the most beautiful person you have ever met and how the light that radiates from you reminds him of a sunset lit inside of your chest. How the color of your hair is his favorite because, whenever he sees it anywhere else, he feels like the universe is sending him a small reminder of how lucky he is. You smile at the sight of his gentle words.

However, you can no longer ignore the rain of incoming texts now that he has noticed the "seen at 2:14am" at the bottom of the page. He feels awful for waking you up but he cannot help himself. Every new thing he learns, every new detail of the movie he thinks you will enjoy knowing, he must share with you.

2:15am > manjiro: THIS DUDE JUST ATE HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW WHOLE? 2:16am > manjiro: IS THAT A FUCKING THING THAT SNAKES DO? EAT PEOPLE WHOLE? 2:16am > manjiro: I HAVE TO GOOGLE THIS HOLD ON 2:17am > manjiro: I have learned that, in fact, they can. I'm actually going to jump, I cannot do this 2:18am > manjiro: oh shit, i didn't mean to wake you up, but now that you are here! 2:19am > manjiro: did you know that drinking too much water can kill you? I read it somewhere, let me find the link. 2:19am > manjiro: Oh and also that when the dinosaurs walked the Earth, days were 23 hours long instead of 24?

You take a deep breath, knowing that he is coming from a place of love and care but you can't help but be a bit annoyed. Not wanting to snap at him, you use your full mental capacity at the moment to type a response to one of his many, many texts.

2:19am > manjiro: typing... 2:19am > you: Mikey, I love you, so so much and I wish for nothing more than for you to be here cuddling with me, than to feel the warmth of your body against mine, but you know I have an exam early in the morning. 2:20am > you: but baby, I am begging you, STOP THIS MADNESS.

His texting ceases and it feels like an eternity, certainly long enough for you to regret the way you spoke to him, even if it wasn't malicious or even purposefully mean. You understand that, other than Draken, Mikey doesn't usually confide in anyone else, especially not in a way that makes him seem weak or "stupid."

A sigh escapes your lips and you blink intensely for a few seconds in the hopes of stopping your eyeballs from burning. Time seems to slip by you and the next time your eyes open, twenty minutes have passed.

You bolt awake for a few seconds, heart beating faster than a race car, an irrational fear that you might have missed a message from him taking over you so the natural course of action is to check your texts. It would be a lie to say you weren't a little disappointed that there were no new messages from Mikey in that short period of time and your heart sinks just slightly.

2:41am > you: Mikey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I'm just nervous about my exam and super tired. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I hope you can forgive me.

Not even thirty seconds go by before the three dots inside of the blue bubble appear at the edge of the page. The full sensation of relief doesn't wash over you until you hear back from him, a simple message, spelled completely wrong because you knew he was keeping an eye out on whatever he was watching on the television.

2:42am > mikey: all gpod bsby, u luv u. (all good baby, i love you)

With a smile on your face, you finally allow yourself to relax and place the phone down underneath your pillow, giving Mikey time for himself as he enjoys his tv time. Now, you are finally going to be able to have a good night's rest before your big exam tomorrow. Eyelids become heavy and your breathing finds its own perfect pattern, your pillow is cold and underneath your covers is warm, everything is simply falling into place.

When you are within seconds of falling asleep, your phone buzzes from beneath your head. You refuse to open your eyes and simply roll over, pushing your body away from the device.

Some time passes and you find yourself in the same peaceful vibe as before, a gentle smile on your face as you fully allow yourself to be submerged in the cold feeling of the ac against your face while the rest of your body is nicely tucked away. The feeling doesn't last long for Mikey, once again, decides to start texting you every few minutes, if not seconds.

You grunt loudly, reaching for the edge of your pillow to pull it over your ear. In moments like these, you truly had to remind yourself of how much you loved him and why because he does, in fact, test what little sanity you have left in you. But you didn't know that all he was doing in that moment was being his usual self: the guy who is deeply and madly in love with you.

3:14am > manjiro: oh yeah 3:14am > manjiro: i forgot to tell you 3:15am > manjiro: good luck on your exam tomorrow, you got this! 3:15am > manjiro: i love you so much <3 3:15am > manjiro: have a great night <3

#mikey brainrot #mikey x reader #mikey x you #manjiro sano x you #manjiro sano x y/n #manjiro sano x reader #manjiro sano #manjiro sano fluff #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x y/n

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ask-whitepearl-and-steven · 1 year ago

Note

hello!! I'm the one who asked the question about when temp 5 will come out recently, I just wanted to ask, how are you feeling? Has sometimes the pressure from your audience or inconsiderate people who don't think that a human being is doing this made you want to abandon the project? Sometimes I fear that at some point people will end up breaking you and you will abandon everything :( (again, Sorry if there are errors or this just sounds strange, I'm using a translator!!)

Hello! I don't know quite which anon you are, because actually, MANY people ask me about season 5 almost every day - but I am hoping to get it ready soon. Maybe by the end of December? Right now, I'm still drawing some new chapters.

To tell the truth, I haven't actually ever considered QUITTING full out.

Many people have definitely come very close to pissing me off - there are some 10 years olds hanging around that have way too little chores to do, and instead end up using their energy to send me messages:

(shout out to this tenacious child who sent me not one but 14 messages just like this one) ....buuuut I usually don't think about just stopping the comic

Most of the time, I just think 'I want to stop posting on tumblr/tapas, and just post on Patreon, where people are nicer'.

The thing is, I still WANT to make this comic. I love this story, and want to continue it, so to quit completely would be sad for me as well, not only you guys.

Most likely, if my patience ever snaps, I'll probably just stop posting the comic publicly, that's all. And instead, the only way to read it would be to join my Patreon. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But hopefully we never come to that. Because I want to keep sharing it with everyone!

#chekhov answers

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princedesnuees · 8 months ago

Text

CALL ME MAYBE — gn!reader x jaehyun.

pairing: gn!reader x jaehyun. genre: hurt/comfort, angst, smut. summary: you work as a phone sex operator. naturally, one of your customer wants something a bit specific... warnings: phone sex. words: 1.5k

It is your duty to take care of your customer during the allotted time. This is your job as a phone sex operator, after all. The call time is determined by the amount paid. Some customers just need twenty minutes. Sometimes much more. Maybe all day. Maybe the entire night. You don't mind, you like doing this. What just was for spending time changed into a real full time job. Everybody says you're made for this. And you would be a liar if you say that you're not good at satisfying your phone correspondent.

It's late at night. You've just ended with an old man. The lonely kind, not really interesting, quite sad actually. But you had nice time. At the end, he sounded happy and thanked you before hang up. Mission accomplished.

And now, what?

You don't have time to think. The phone's ringing.

You pick up, comfortably seated in your chair. Usually, it's you who starts the conversation. And you were willing to do so, until a voice rises from the receiver.

"Hi."

As usual, it's a man. You smile against the phone. What a soft, deep voice you hear.

"Hey baby… How you doing?"

"Not really good."

"Oh… Would you like speak about it?"

Other usual part of your job: the therapist side. You are used to listening to your customers complaining about their life, what's going on, what weighs on them. And it's a side of this job you truly like. Get to know someone. Their past, their present. What they went through. Their dreams, their fears. You can imagine every details just by closing your eyes. And in all these stories, all you have to do is listen and comfort them in a very special way.

"My wife left me."

"Baby. I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. I was never there for her."

"How do you feel?"

"In a shitty way."

"Need me to reassure you a little…?"

"Yeah. That's why I phoned you. They say… You're a good listener."

"And I will. Do you mind telling me your name?"

"Call me Jay."

"Jay… What a sweet name."

"I'll pay for one hour. Maybe more."

"Alright, Jay. I'm all yours. What do you need tonight?"

"Someone who can… help me to make the pain go."

"You feel really, really sad about what happened, don't you…"

"Yeah."

You listen closely, and then hear like a sob. Of course, it must be awfully difficult.

"You were together since a long time?"

"Almost five years. I've been… dumb. Y'know. Too much taken by my career. Money, fame, all that stuff. But now… It just doesn't have sense anymore. I realized it too late."

Sadness is blending to his voice.

"Baby… Everything will be okay. Don't blame yourself. You did your best." You whisper on a reassuring tone.

"I even wonder if she cheated on me. No. I know she did."

"Don't think about it. Think about yourself and your well-being. I'm here for you baby. Just ask me something that could bring you joy. Anything I can do."

"It's been a couple of weeks I didn't cum, you know. I can't anymore. That makes me sad when I try with someone else, and I don't like to do it alone. Watching porn doesn't do anything to me. I even feel disgusted."

"Okay, sweetheart. Do you want me to talk, to help you cum?"

"… Yeah. I want."

"Are you sitting comfortably?"

"I'm on the ground of my kitchen."

Oh. That's unusual.

"Everything's okay, baby?…" You want to be sure.

"Yeah. I was… cooking when I started to feel bad. Really bad. My wife used to prepare diner before I got home. It reminded me her, while she was cooking. That's stupid, I know."

"Not, it's not. Jay, don't think your feeling are stupids. They are important, and so you are."

"Maybe."

"Would you like to stay here?"

"Yeah. Don't want to go upstairs. It's okay. The tiles are warm now."

And then, you hear a soft laugh. Really, really soft. Almost inaudible. But that makes you smile.

"Fine, Jay. Let's start. Remember, this is your moment. You can ask me whatever you want or need."

"Okay."

"Relax yourself, baby… I'm here. I'm with you. Imagine me, standing by your side. You're not alone. I can hug you if you want. Do you?"

"Yeah."

"I'm here, my arms around your waist… You can put your head on my shoulder, close your eyes…" At this moment, your voice was akin to that of a mother soothing her child. A gentle, nurturing voice, one in which everyone would like to take refuge. This is the way you do. Comforting your visitor the time they come to you. "There… How do you feel, baby?"

A long silence responds. But you're not worried. Some people need this time. Time that life didn't grant them. And you were right. A few seconds later, his voice arises.

"I… feel good…"

"Can you feel my hand on your hips, right now? Can you… feel… my warmth enveloping you?"

"Hmm…"

You listen, carefully. Each sound is an important hint of your customer's mood.

"Jay… I'm sure… you have… a wonderful body… Don't you? Because I can sense it just by touching you."

"Touch me more."

"Where do you want me to touch, baby?"

"Go under my shirt."

"Alright. I'm here, right now… Do you feel it? My hand on your body… It's warm, Jay…"

"Yeah… Warm."

"Can I go on your thighs? I promise, I'm not heavy… And… this will be… more pleasant."

"Go on."

"Aah… It's been… a while since… I went over a man like you…"

"Hmm…"

You hear him moaning, proof that he begins to feel really relaxed. Perfect.

"You know… Since I am all yours… Would you like to… try something with me?"

"Yeah."

"Can we put off this belt? Let me do it for you… There…"

His breath is heavier. You don't have intention to stop.

"Hey, Jay… Don't you feel… too tight…?"

"I… I'm… I try to… caressing… myself…"

"That's good… Do it at your pace, baby, okay?… What are you thinking about…?"

"You. Your pelvis… against mine…"

"Hmm… This is exactly… what I do… Can you feel me… rubbing gently on you…?"

"Yeah. I… fucking feel it."

Your smile is wider. Maybe you've started to caress yourself, too.

"Jay… Is that a big, generous and warm cock I can feel beneath these pants…?"

"Fuck…"

"Yeah, that is. Oh my god… It's harder and harder… Hmm…"

"Touch it."

"It's been a while you didn't use your pretty cock, Jay… But don't worry because… Tonight… This will change. And I can assure you… That you're well-endowed. To be honest, I've rarely seen a beautiful cock like yours during a while."

"Shit, this is… Aaah… Take it in your hand."

"And I'm doing, baby. There… Just under your underwear… There it is… Hello, beautiful one…"

You can imagine the size wobbling in your little hand.

"Look, I can't even take it in one hand… And you're not this hard yet… Jesus…"

"P-put your goddamn…"

"Hmm ? My…"

"You're goddamn lips."

"Baby… You want me to suck your big dick?"

"Fucking do it."

"There I am… My lips all over your tip… Like this… Hmm… Your… delicious… huge… cock…"

He's moaning louder each second. This is astonishing how his voice can be this deep. You've never heard this kind of tone before, this is arousing you in your chair. Thighs closed, you're trembling like a leaf.

"Jay… I'm gonna… swallow it… entirely… Is that okay for you, baby?…"

"Don't ask: go for it. Eat it. Make it disappear inside your little mouth."

"I'm coming, baby. Let yourself go, I'm going to devour your lovely cock. My tongue wrapped around your pretty veins… Do you see me? Going up and down… Tongue lapping your dick, like a thirsty bitch… Hmm… God, you have such a wondrous taste…"

There you are. Your slow, erotic tone who made fall so many men before. It's not difficult to imagine your client masturbating himself like a damn one. You almost can hear him doing so. His wonderful cock you are sucking until the last drop.

"Fuck… Fuuuuu…. I… Aaaaah… This is… so… fucking good… Haaan…"

"Yeah baby? Do you want me to go faster? Let me do…"

"I… I gonna…"

"Your little whore is going to swallow everything until your balls are totally empty, you know that, Jay…?"

"H-… Oh my…! Hmmm… AAAAH !"

And there are the fireworks. Your man's voice explodes with magnificence. You let him enjoy this moment. His moment. A slight smile on your lips covered by his generous cum. You clean up the little mess by one movement of your tongue.

"Is this good, baby…?"

"Hell… Yeah… I… 've just… stained myself."

"You must be lovely. I'd love to see you, right now…"

"Fucking Christ. I had so much in my balls."

"Do you feel better, now?"

"Fuck yes. Much better."

"Can I lick your cum?"

"Come here, honey."

Oh yeah. You were going to find him soon as expected.

#jaehyun smut #nct smut #jaehyun x reader #nct 127 #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #smut #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fic

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watchingblsnowandforever · 4 months ago

Text

We Are Ep. 14: Part 3/3

Hello again!! =D

Part 1 and Part 2

Warning: long post 😊😅 (also, I'm so sorry for the delay, I've been sleep deprived for the last two to three days because my insomnia and depression made comebacks, but I'm better now)

She reminds me so much of my own mom-

My mom adopts my friends, and no one has any say in it, while my dad encourages her 😭👍🏼

I absolutely love her relationship with all of them. While it's given that Peem will talk about Phum, Q has talked about Toey too, and it's quite obvious that Peem and his og group of friends have visited quite often before. She asks no question, and is so comfortable with them that they don't hesitate for a second to introduce their boyfriends. This is maybe not realistic (I'm pretty sure my mom while very similar wouldn't be this accepting) but it's very in line with this show, and I really like it.

GIVE ME MORE ACCEPTING PARENTS IN BL!!!

I am 100% sure that for a moment there, Phum's brain short circuited 😭

I mean, just look at it from his perspective. The boy he's head over heels for talks about him like this to his mom. If it were me, I'd be having an existential crisis right there, he has much more self control than me.

I'll be living here, in this moment for the next 1000 years, thanks for asking.

Listen, I'm a big fan of domestic fluff, BUT THIS???

Also, I don't usually talk about these, but on Phum's t-shirt, it says "ALWAYS FORWARD NO TURNING BACK" which is very relevant here because Peem helps him see a future, and to enjoy the present as it comes back. He's slowly but surely leaving his scarred past behind.

I have so many fic ideas smh

And yet, I don't really see you, complaining, Peem.

He says while sipping from his own glass. Very convincing, Peem.

THIS WAS SO CUTE OH MY GODS 😭😭🫶🏼

Btw, Peem? Phum is calling you "meow" for the rest of your lives. Just like you'll be calling him Puppy Phum. <3

oh-

These few seconds spoke so much.

The realization that this is what a real family is supposed to look like, that he'll probably never have this with his own parents.

But then- then he realizes that now he can have this. He can have Peem, and a family full of love and sit in the midst of his brother and his friends and Peem's friends and be accepted and loved.

Maybe he can't have this with his own parents, but he can have this with Peem, and that for him, is already far more than he could have ever imagined.

I just love that addition 😭😂

Peem is absolutely incapable of not calling Phum some version of "idiot (affectionate)" and I adore him for it. <33

Oho, violent Fang is back.

But seriously, let the others sleep, Pun and Toey 😭

THIS LOOK. ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US??

There's only two eps left (?!!!!!), so I really hope that the next one is when they get together

The small thumb soothing his tummy 🥺🫶🏼

All we got are crumbs of ChainPun throughout and they still managed to make us go insane. Mad respect for their friends who have to deal with them on a daily basis 😭👍🏼

Also, when Peem got up to ask what they were doing and Phum pulled him back to sleep, did y'all see that tiny forehead kiss? My man never misses a chance to kiss Peem, and I am so proud of him.

This reminds me of such a funny story-

So. We went to visit this historical building (note: historical) and the stairs leading up were naturally kind of steep and broken. It was very crowded, so it was four or five teams/families to one guide. We went up slowly, but since the guide was obviously very used to it, he went up faster, and was waiting for us at the landing. So one couple asked how he got there so fast, and he jokingly said "I took the lift" and the man was like "Why didn't you tell us before?? One of us [I don't remember who he said] just had knee surgery!" and the rest of us were just staring at him like ???? are you listening to yourself- 😶

My parents and I laugh about it to this day 😭😂 (this was almost 8 years back OH GODS SAYING THAT MADE ME FEEL SO OLD-)

What next ep looks like:

What I looked like after watching the trailer:

(In that order.)

That's it for ep 14! See y'all in 4 days (I fear for what will become of me after I watch ep 15).

If you got this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here have a croissant 🥐

#we are #we are series #we are the series #thai bl #phumpeem #qtoey #tanfang #chainpun #watching bls: we are #let's talk bl

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average-jedtavius-enjoyer · 5 months ago

Text

One year ago today I finished the most amazing story of my life. As a tribute, I redrew my piece from August last year.

Old ver: here.

song: Dream, by Priscilla Ahn

This is going to be a long rant so be prepared.

I, in all honesty, cannot with any fibre of my being or in any space of my mind believe that it has been a full year since I finished Red dead redemption 2. The effect this stupid game had on me seems to have never lessened, even with the time that has passed since I completely finished it, and for a whole year it has found a very special, cosy little space in my heart which I find it hard to think it will ever leave. Everything about it came to near perfection: The characters, the story telling, the emotions it made me feel, hell even the graphics (which you would think would have lost some of their shine considering I played in 2023, 5 years after the games release) - and yet all at the same time in every person and life it presented to me it was so imperfect and broken that it seemed so real. Everything about it was so real.

Nothing on this earth could have ever prepared me for what was to come when I started playing. In fact, I remember my mindset going into it quite vividly: I remember I was bored one day, and decided to sit down and play 'a silly little cowboy game.' I knew how it would end since I started, but I never knew (and it never quite clicked through the months I spent working through the game) that I would become so attached to each and every individual that I would break down for weeks after finishing the whole endeavour. I didn't know that I would devote so many hours of my life to this game, all for it to end up in shambles - so much so that I haven't been able to pick up all the pieces 12 months later. I was completely unprepared.

I can still remember the visceral emotions I felt at certain points; The time that Dutch left Arthur to die, how Arthur after the fact had to present Rain Falls with his dead son. His last son. Watching Dutch lie to Arthur about the death of his own damn brother.

Seeing Hosea get shot, and Sean, and Lenny - and dear god watching Kieran walk beheaded into camp. Each and every one of these deaths broke me and I can still feel it.

I can still feel the fear I felt in the very last mission, worrying my pretty little head that Sadie and Charles would die - That John (and I) would lose the very last connection to the gang that he had.

I can still feel it all.

I don't know if this makes any sense at all, or if I'm just rehashing the points and feelings of everyone who has played before me - I'm simply rambling, spilling my thoughts out onto the table in the hopes they'll arrange themselves and I'll have some coherent (maybe even fond) thought process related to the completion of this game, instead of just sitting in silence whenever the topic is brought up without quite knowing how to order or process all the emotions that still rage.

Maybe next year I'll come back with something more important to say about the effects this game had on me, but until then just know that this piece of art quite literally touched my soul. It brought out feelings in me I never thought a piece of fiction could.

I miss it.

I miss them.

I miss Arthur.

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irlpinkiepie · 12 days ago

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anyway update on what i've been up to, since it's been a year since i've posted anything at all and much longer than that since i've actually talked about my life in any detail on here:

still in cleveland! left my parents' a few months after i graduated to go live with friends from uni (sidenote, if you are in a position to do so? holy shit, move out from your parents', it is crazy worth it) and now those friends are partners! might be nice to move someplace else sometime if those partners are up for it, maybe somewhere on the northeast corridor? but as it stands i am fucking loving this city even if it does not quite fulfil my childhood expectation of 'hey i have lived in the same country for more than two years, that's kinda weird'

i have a job now! a like, actual full-time job, which is still wild given quite how long i kinda expected that that would be something i would never be able to manage on account of the Autism. turns out though that people will pay you to just look over spreadsheets and write documents for them? would that it were easier to find such a place which paid better and had a better work culture but, such as it is

speaking of partners actually, i am up to uh. five now! it turns out that i have an absurd amount of love in my heart and basically the only reason that number is not greater than five is because of the aforementioned having a full-time job and not really having the time in the day to have more partners than that. so cool to be the weird freaky polyamorous trans girl i always dreamed i would be though

oh yeah! bottom surgery! hopefully that's gonna be soon! i've got an appointment next week to get the last of my insurance letters, and then fingers crossed i can get a follow-up and make it happen sometime next year? have i talked about getting bottom surgery at all on here? well i am not going to go into too much detail on a sfw post but the gist is i found out that there was a way to do bottom surgery that let you have both and was like 'oh my god okay this perfectly captures the way i want my body to look' and immediately called up a surgeon's office to schedule a first appointment

chicken pet. need i say more

writing again! for the first time in a good long while, taking a story i wrote a couple years ago and pulling it out of the shared universe in which it originally resided so that i can do more of the things i wanted to with it. if you're one of the like, two or three people who knows what that story is from that description, i'll put the original back up once i'm finished with the rewrite and have a place to link it to people; i would like to have the chance to tell this story on my own terms, but i absolutely don't want it to be completely lost media

cycling! one of the perks of living in a big city it turns out is that it's actually easy to get to places and so i have been cycling a whole bunch just out of practicality, but it turns out that it's also just really fun to do? absolutely not a sport cyclist by any means, my bike is a $200 cruiser from target, but it's just so so nice to go outside and do things and perform physical activity

in short: i feel like life has been generally pretty darn great! and i am glad to be able to share that here with y'all

#joan.txt

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more-cardigan-than-woman · 2 years ago

Note

hi. you have written a few stories about Reader being Dicks best friend. What if she was Jasons best friend and has a secret thing going on with Dick and Jason has no idea.

Sure thing mate, though its going to be in 2 parts because i'm buggered today.

Brother & Bestie.

Dick Grayson x Brat!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, Degradation, hair pulling, swearing, pet names, secret fuck buddies.

"It's unlocked," Dick calls from the kitchen, "Oh, it's you, you little fuck,” he groans when he leans out of the door and spots you, “Let me grab my coat,” he rounds the corner looking for his jacket, “you can tell me on the way what he's been arrested for this time," he turns and notices you standing still in his doorway, "I swear, you pair get up to more trouble than anyone I've ever known,” he pauses, grabbing his jacket from the back of one of his dining chairs.

"Not in jail, this time." You mention casually as you close and lock the door behind you.

"So he wants something," he walks, his huge gait bringing him to you in an instant, "and he sent you because-" he grabs your chin, tilting your head up to his eyes," well, he hasn't quite figured out why yet," Dicks lips tilt into a smug smirk, “I really need to get that boys head checked.”

"Can we borrow the projector? Jay said you had a nice one that we could set up on the roof."

"You little shits are having a movie night and you didn't invite me?" Dicks fingers tighten on your face, “That’s fucking rude,” his eyes drift down your face, down towards your breasts, "take this off," he plucks at your old shirt releasing you from his grasp, "and I'll think about it."

You hurry to pull the shirt over our head, throwing it on the ground, "So, can we borrow the projector now?" you plant your hands at your sides, trying to stop yourself from going into full on begging just yet, “I’ll owe you one.”

“From what I recall,” his hand wraps around the back of your neck as he steps back, taking your face with him, “You owe me quite a few.”

"I promise to invite you to the next movie night." you try to reason with him, but you can’t help the way you’re looking at him. It’s been what? Maybe two weeks and fuck you already miss the way he makes you feel.

“Too late for that.”

“Please Dick, please let us borrow it.”

"Say it again"

"Please, I'd be so grateful."

“To who?”

“You. Please Dick, I’d be so grateful to you.”

"On your knees,” he releases your face, leaning back on the small dining table, “ask me from the ground."

"Dick, please please please please can we borrow your projector?" you plead, staring up at him from your knees.

"Such a pretty beggar." He coos, pushing your hair back from your face, "you going to pay for it?" You nod a little too quickly, making Dick laugh, "are you sure it's the projector you want? Or did you miss me?" Your gaze drops, shit. You know you’re acting too keen because well, you are, "did my pretty little pet miss the way I make her feel?"

"No." you lie, shifting your weight on your legs.

“I know when you’re lying,” you see his feet cross in front of you, “I can see it in your pretty eyes, Keep them on me. Now tell me the truth. Did you miss me?”

“Yes,” You adjust yourself, making yourself taller while planting your hands on your thighs for balance.

"What a good pet, always knows how to sit," his voice soft and encouraging while he slips out of his pants and grabs something from the chair behind him. Your eyes lock on his cock when it springs out right in your face, already half hard, “Lift your knees up,” he slides the pillow under your knees, “Good girl, don’t want to scrape those pretty legs,” he pats at your hair, "Open your mouth." You drop your jaw, your tongue hanging out like a dog on a hot day, "good girl, now take it in your- yes, just like that- and- fuckkkk…" he moans as your lips wrap around the head of his cock, your tongue flicking just over the tip. “Finally something your smart mouth is good at,” You want nothing more than to wrap your hands around the base, but last time you moved without permission he took it away, "you want it all, don't you Pet?" His long fingers tangle through your hair at the nape of your neck, yanking your head back, "Want me to fuck your pretty throat, Pet?" He stares down at you, smiling so wide when you nod at him, "Relax your throat,” his hands grip tighter into your hair, “1. 2. 3. Ahhhhh." He pushes himself all the way down your throat, the sting of the stretch making you squirm.

You lick at the underside of his cock as tears start to well in your eyes and your throat is stretched to the brim with his cock. His hands guide you back and forth along his length, your hands now resting his thighs as he uses your throat for his pleasure. You can feel yourself dripping into your panties, your thighs rubbing together to try and give yourself some relief, while trying to stay as still as possible.

"Your throat feels so fucking good, Pet." He moans, "way to good. Shit,” Dick pauses, his hand slowly caressing your face, “how are you so good at that?"

"Irndidbeoke,"

"Didn't catch that," Dick smirks when your eyes meet his, "you having trouble talking?" You roll your eyes so wide there's no way he misses it, "going to be like that?” his hands slaps at your cheek, “Fuck, that feels good.” you moan around him and he shivers, stepping back and groaning when his cock falls from your mouth, “Stick your tongue out.” he grips the base of his cock in his hand, “Good girl, eyes- yes Pet,” he slaps his cock on your tongue, once, twice, never looking away from you, “Fuck, you shiver when I do that,” a third time, “Get up, Pet.” he yanks you up by the hair, one hand sliding under your arm to help you up, "bend over the table Pet, I wanna see that pretty ass."

You bite down on your lip to keep the squeal of excitement in. Your hands move to pull the button on your jeans down before you hear Dick tutting behind you, "Did I tell you to take those off?"

"No."

"No, what?"

"No way." you suck in your lips trying to keep your laugh in.

"Then why are you taking them off?"

"Soz."

“Pet..”

“Richard.”

“Pet, your chance to be a bitch is over,” Dick shakes his head at you, “Unless, you just want to go? Which you are free to do at any time, doors right behind you.”

“No, I don’t want too.”

"Then why don’t you be a good pet and do as you're told,” he mutters, “for once.”

“Huh?” you say confused, you’d always been good or tried to be when you could keep your mouth shut, “What do you-”

“No more questions, Pet. Spread,” You lean on to your hands, spreading your legs apart as you arch your back into the table.

"Like this?"

"Good girl," he spanks you once, before his hand snakes around your middle and tugs at the zip on your jeans. His long fingers grazing along the fabric as he drags it down your legs, "step- good."

You beam, looking back and seeing him on his knees, his face so close and yet so far from your pussy. You have to stay still, but the urge to push back is so strong you can feel yourself inching closer.

He spanks you again, "don't you rush me. this is my pussy," he hits you again, "isn't it, Pet?"

"Yes."

"I'll play with it how I want,” his fingers palm at your ass, “You want that projector don't you?"

"Yes," even though it's the furthest thing from your mind right as his mouth inches closer to you. “Please.”

"You’ve been naughty” he ponders and your mind reels trying to figure out just what you’ve done, “I’ll just have a little taste, for me. Not you," his tongue darts out scooping up some of your pussy juice and moaning at your flavour, "just as perfect as last time. Tell me you remember the last time."

"Bar Night, last Wednesday."

"That was a while ago, no wonder you offered to come here. Though it does beg the question-" He tilts forward, pressing his nose into your ass as his tongue licks over your clit. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” He moans into you so hard that you don’t fully hear him, only catching something about a phone. You try to piece together his words, only to lose your train of thought when Dicks hands grab your hips to keep you still, "Be a good pet and let me eat in the ambiance." He licks at you, his tongue darting inside, “Give me my ambiance,” he moves down and down until his lips wrap over your clit.

"Yes, please, more," you moan, clenching your fists to try and keep yourself still.

He mumbles something into your pussy and you feel two long fingers slip inside you, pressing and stretching you out for him. His tongue flicks over your clit, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks hard on your clit. The strong fingers still on your hip dig into your side, his nails pinching you, marking you down to your thigh and making your insides catch fire.

Your mind starts to swirl as your pussy begins to pulse around his fingers, "Close," you pant, "so fucking close."

"Hmmm, good Pet" he hums, the vibrations on your clit make you squirm even more.

Suddenly Dick sits back on his feet and you can imagine the smirk on his face as your pussy chases after him, clenching around nothing but air, "but I didn't say you could cum yet."

"Please, please Dick. I wanna cum so bad."

"Don’t even remember- No. keep facing forward." he pushes your head back around when you try to look at him, “What was I saying?” he asks, brushing his body against yours, his cock prodding at your pussy, “Oh, yeah.” he presses the tip of his cock into you, “I don’t remember telling you, you were allowed to cum, Pet.”

“Yes,” you nod, “I can..” you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to imagine how fucking hot he looks standing behind you with just his shirt on “..I think I can-”

“You will hold it,” he tugs on your hair, “My pet only cums on my command. Correct?” he asks you, pulling you back so your head is resting against his chest, “Answer me Pet. Or is it too hard to think,” he thrusts up, “With my big cock inside you?”

“So full,” you moan as he tips your head back and your eyes start to glaze over when he gets so deep inside you, “Dick, yes,” your hands cling to Dick as best at they can, attempting to not have your hair and the hand around your middle being the only things keeping you upright.

“Fuck, Jasons been wasting you,” he moans, catching your lip between his teeth, “Pet as pretty as you should be used,” his hand slips from your hair to around your throat, “filled,” he bites down on your tongue when you try to stick it in his mouth, “Fucked.” shoving his own into yours and palming at your breasts, “What do you think your little bestie would say if he could see you now?”

“Fuck, Dick.” you moan, “Don’t-”

“Think he’d be jealous?” he grinds up into you, “Think he’d be mad at me for fucking you?” he hits a spot that makes you cry out and start to twitch around him, “would he be mad at you for fucking his brother?” his hand tightens on your throat, “Open your eyes,” he slows down, pressing his fingers into your cheeks, “Would he be mad if he found out how long-” he moans when you start to clench on his cock, “-how long we’ve been doing this?” your pussy like a vice as it flutters around him, “Fuck that turns you on doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Fuck, I’m getting close again.”

“No you’re not.”

“I really-” your eyes roll back so far as your mouth hangs open “Dick I-”

“I said,” he stops moving, leaving his cock deep inside you, “No. You hold it or we stop. You can take it for me, can’t you, my Pet?”

“Yes. I- I will.” you try to turn it off, just how hot and flustered and how fucking close you are, to push it down, push it away. But it’s still there, just bubbling at the surface.

“Good girl, bend over.” he pushes you over the table, “You can take it.” he fucks hard into you, “Take whatever I give you,” his hands grip on your hips pulling your ass into him, “Love watching your ass bounce on me.” you grind back into him, biting down so hard on your lips that you can taste the blood, “You take it so well for me.” he pounds and pounds into you. Your head spinning with the force that its taking to keep your pleasure in while his cock fucks you so perfectly. His moans and grunts fill your ears and make it even harder for you to stop from cumming. “Can I fill you up, Pet?” he fucks into your harder while his fingers wrap around your leg and press into your clit, “Yeeeeessssss, squeeze around meee like Thatt,Fuuuck.”

“Yes, I want it. I want it. I want it.”

“Beg for me, my pet.”

“Please cum, please fill me up.” you pant breathlessly, your hips bruisingly sore from how hard he’s been fucking you into the table.

“My good Pet,” he growls, covering your body with his, “My good girl,” he bites down on your shoulder, “My perf- Ahhh Fuc…fect Pet.” his body shaking as his warm cum fills your tight pussy, the excess already starting to drip out around him and down your bare thigh. “Fuck, I can feel you getting close again Pet,” he pants so close to your ear, before his breath turns heavier and he pulls away from you, his heat leaving you almost as fast as his cum is falling down your leg.

“What?” you breathe out, “Dick, you- what?” you turn confused and find him pulling his pants up, “Where are you going?” you ask, resting your head on the table and staring back at him as he steps away from you, his eyes still trained on your ass.

“Oh Pet,” he smiles at you, “How will you learn your lesson if you’re not punished?”

“Why?”

“Have a think about it while I grab the projector,” he slaps your ass, “might want to put your clothes back on too.”

“Cruel!” you shout at him as you shuffle down the table and try to stand. “Fuckin, shit balls.” you swear as your legs shake under you and you need to grip the table as you bend down to grab the band of your jeans and attempt to pull them up one handed. “The fuck did I ever do to you!” you yell as the denim catches on your sticky ass legs.

“Think about it, 3 days ago,” he calls from down the hallway.

“3 days- when I moved?” finally getting the ass of your jeans up over your thighs and zipping them up, “what about it? You knew I was moving out of Jay and Roys love nest,” you stand, finding your shirt on the ground and slipping it over your head.

“Yeah, but you didn’t answer when I called you,” he says when he reappears leaning against the doorway.

“When did you-” Fuck, that must’ve been when you saw someone calling when you and Jason were unpacking your living room and rejected the call and then totally forgot about it, fuck. “-my bad. I totally forgot to call you back.”

“Now you’re getting it. 3 days and nothing. Not a call, not a text and Pet,” he shoves the projector into your hands, “I know you're sorry. I can see the sorry soaking your jeans,” he grabs your face pulling you close, “Don’t you wash that off until I tell you,” he commands, “and next time,” his lips a breath away from yours, ”you’ll know to at least call me back. Oh and-” he kisses you, his lips so soft and sweet against yours, “Have a fun night,” you hear the door click open behind you, “I’ll be seeing you real soon, Pet,” he growls, shoving you out of the door and slamming it in your face.

6 hours later. PART 2

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayon x reader #reader x dick grayson #x reader #reader #fem reader x dick grayson

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imjustdreamingig · 2 years ago

Text

Run Away

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were never a shy person, until it came to talking to the boy you liked.

A/N: Well, this is my first time writing something like this so... please be nice. I was kinda tired of only seeing shy!reader stuff so I decided to base this on my personality. So yeah, kind of based on a true story. What reader does in this story I've actually done in real life which is mortifying. Anyways!!! This is just edited by me so lmk how I can improve and if I should write a part 2??? Maybe?? Idk. Enjoy!

PS: Robin and Steve work together, nothing monstery has happened, they're all in the same grade. It's a bunch of dumb teenagers together battling high school.

Warnings: sfw, cursing, fluff? people being dumb?? idk what else tbh

You've never considered yourself to be a shy person. In fact, you were very much so extroverted, never finding qualms in chatting to your classmates or asking you're teacher questions in class that some may think are stupid. You didn't care.

Aside from being a little nervous back in elementary school, that trait had dissolved as you got older, and it definitely wasn't present at the moment during your senior year at Hawkins High.

However. As much as you liked to claim to be unbothered with public speaking and your ability to make friends easily, there was one thing that you couldn't just quite get over, no matter how hard you tried. And quite frankly, it was getting old and ridiculous.

"Fuck, Robin he's coming down the hall," you exclaimed, "move, move, move, move!"

You didn't bother checking if she was behind you, already knowing she would be as you practically ran to your second period class. It was the first day of the new semester anyways, you could use the excuse of wanting to get good seats to justify your cowardice to yourself later tonight.

"Jesus Christ," you heard Robin mutter as she finally caught up to you, "You know I have asthma, I cannot keep doing this every time you so much catch a glimpse of Steve."

You slowed down your pace, your heart not feeling as though it would burst out of your chest anymore. You still sported a slight flush on your face from the thought of the almost encounter you had with the jock.

"I know, I know, this is getting so stupid. I promise next time I'll talk to him, I swear," you said as you sighed forlornly.

Robin turned to you with an unimpressed stare. "That's what you said last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, and yet here we are," she waved her hands dramatically.

Here's your problem. An issue that is a complete juxtaposition of your usual personality. The moment you've ever realized you have a crush on someone, you would run away from them anytime you saw them. Literally. You would full on sprint away in the opposite direction.

You've never really understood why this happens, only knowing that the second you saw your current crush, you're usual non existent nerves would make a prevalent appearance. You'd freeze and your eyes would widen as your brain chose the flight response when confronted with a potential dangerous situation.

"Look dingus, I love you and I think you're awesome and all that, blah blah blah, but this has got to stop," Robin stated as you both took your seats in your English class. "You're embarrassing me just as much as you're embarrassing yourself and our social status cannot take that much more of a beating."

You knew she was joking but just grunted in response, having buried your face in the crook of your elbow, not even bothering to open up your notebook. You heard Robin sigh and could tell she was rolling her eyes at you.

"You know..." Robin started, "I could always just...talk to him for you? Give him you're number or something during our shift at-"

Your raised your head immediately, almost giving yourself whiplash. "Robs, no way. We've talked about this before! I just - this situation is already awkward as it is, that would just make it worse."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help, but if you wanna suffer some more that's totally your choice." Robin says as she shrugs her shoulders. "Besides, with all that running your doing, at least you're getting some cardio in."

You let out as surprised squawk. "Robin come on! Not funny!" She doesn't reply, merely continuing to laugh at you. All you did was just groan in response again, settling your head in your arms once more.

A few weeks ago, you had been walking to your locker whilst attempting to shove a bunch of textbooks into your bag at the same time. Obviously, everything fell and it just so happened that Steve was nearby and helped you out.

"Oh my God, you don't have to, it's totally fine," you'd stammered, just the tiniest bit embarrassed of dropping your books in the middle of the crowded hallway.

"Don't sweat it, it happens to the best of us." Steve chuckled as he handed you your notebook.

And then it happened. The event that you frequently replay over and over in your mind, the event that kickstarted the affections you had for the boy.

Once everything was stored safely in your bag, Steve stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans. He then turned his attention to you and simply offered you his hand to help you up.

You stared into his big, brown eyes, completely dumbfounded. Here he was, an average man doing the absolute bare minimum and yet you still found yourself practically falling at his feet, your heart feeling as thought it was going to beat out of your chest.

"I- uh, I mean, thanks for the hand Steve," you stammered as you tentatively took his hand and pulled yourself off the floor. You cringed when you felt that it was sort of shaking and kind of clammy, hoping Steve wouldn't notice. "Both literally and figuratively."

You wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow you up after you blurted out those words. To your surprise, Steve let out a laugh, a genuine laugh. His eyes sort of crinkled and you could see the slight indent of a dimple. As if the man needed to get any more attractive in your eyes.

"It's no problem at all," he reassured you. "I'll be seeing you." He gave a quick wave and then turned in the direction of the cafeteria. Your hands tightened on the straps of your backpack as you watched him walk away, admiring the view.

Oh ew, you suddenly thought to yourself, now that was just pathetic.

Ever since that moment, you couldn't give yourself that last push you needed to talk to him. Even after the multitude of pep talks you give yourself in the mirror, including the ones from Robin, you still always ran away whenever you saw him.

You'd be a fool to think he didn't notice it and prayed he didn't mistake it for you hating him or something.

The sound of the bell signaling the start of class pulled you from your misery, forcing you to pay attention to your teacher so you didn't face the consequences of falling behind so early in the term.

Amidst your groveling, you'd failed to notice a particular brunet enter the class and take a seat at a desk a few rows behind you. Who knows what your reaction would have been if you did. Robin just kept her mouth shut, simply winking in Steve's direction when she caught his eye.

"Alright class, settle down and listen up," your teacher began. "I know it's the first day of the semester, but I wanted to introduce an assignment before anything else to make sure you have enough time to complete it and do an excellent job."

The entire class let out a collective groan, yourself included. How could she already be giving out assignments when she hasn't even properly introduced herself?

You turned to Robin, brows furrowed in annoyance. "I think she's got her agenda mixed up, she's introducing things in the wrong order."

"Fuck this, I should've taken Eddie's warning more seriously. Now I understand why everyone hates her," Robin gripped, running a hand through her cropped hair, already looking a little stressed.

You nodded in agreement and added, "I think I get why people hate English so much too."

Robin laughed. "But you'll still love it anyways, won't you?" she chided. Before you had a chance to reply, your teacher began speaking again.

"Settle down, please! If you listen, you'd hear that this not due until the last month of the semester and you'll be working in partners," she stated, "so not only will you have plenty of time to work on it, but you'll also have some help." You and Robin glanced at each other, hopefully smiles tugging at both of your faces.

"Your partners will be assigned by me," the whole class collectively groaned again, "which is what I'll be doing as we get through attendance. I'll explain the criteria before moving on."

"Yep, I think I hate this class at least a little bit now," you complained to Robin, already making a mental checklist of what school stuff you should at least start on later in the afternoon.

"-ohn Gilmore, Phoebe Burton, partners. Steve Harrington, Y/N Y/L/N, partners. Billy Holden, Rob-"

You froze for a second, as if you were glitching. Steve was in... this class? There was no way, you would have absolutely noticed him. But as you snuck a glance behind you, sure enough there he was, sitting in his chair, mindlessly twirling a pencil through his fingers. To your surprise, he was actually looking back at you too and- wait hold up, was he smirking?

You immediately spun back around, hand lurching to grip onto the sides of your desk. You then blinked a couple of time, praying your face wasn't as red as you felt like it was.

"Nope, nope, absolutely not. No thank you," you said as you shook your head from side to side. "Miss, this is a joke right?" you inquired out loud.

You were eventually going to talk to Steve, you were sure of it. The day was coming where you could have some sort of a conversation with him without running away, you could feel it. The moment was almost here.

Today, however, was absolutely not that day.

Just when you were about to complain to you teacher out loud again, you feel a presence behind you.

"Oh come on, you're already dismissing me as a terrible English partner? I'm wounded, seriously." The voice was laced in amusement. You did not need to turn around to know who it belonged to.

Before you could even think of a response, Robin turns to you, clearly finding your horror to the situation hilarious, and says, "Well, I think you're going to hate this class a little bit too."

Well fuck.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington blurb #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff #stranger things fandom

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asmutwriter · 3 days ago

Text

You Saved me (Part 19)

DESCRIPTION: (Season 14) Dean comes round on an unexpected house call.

A/N: I think I'll be able to wrap this story up in the next part. Maybe in two parts depending on how much I want to flesh out their obvious affections for each other. I do hope you enjoyed this smutty section. We've not had any Dean smut in a while!

WORD COUNT: 2784

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List

WARNINGS: swearing, angst, talk of Michael, drinking, smut, p in v, creampie, dom!reader, sub!Dean, lots of silent pining for each other

DISCLAIMERS

- This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

You sweep up the last of the dust on the floor of your pub. Not that there was much grub given that you had already swept it about 6 times that day. But your grand opening was coming up in around a weeks time so you were getting anxiously excited. You'd cut down your hours at your current job so you had more time to focus on the pub. If all goes well then you will quit fully. The pub becoming a full time job if everything goes as planned.

There is a knock at the door. Going over. Exiting the pub door to open the main front door. Your smile on your face widening as you the unexpected but always welcome green eyed hunter.

"Dean!" you say. He smiles at you. Letting you go over and hug him. Feeling his arms go around your spine as your wrap your arms around his neck. His face hiding in the crook of your neck. Your happiness soon dwindling as you feel him hold you close to him. Too close. You move away slightly. Moving your hands to the side of his face. "Dean?" you speak his name softer. Meeting his sad eyes. "Whats the matter?"

"Can I come in?". You nod. Moving away. Motioning to the door for your apartment. He goes over. Starting to walk up the stairs. You shut the main door behind you. Locking the bar door before following him up the steps. Unlocking the door to your home when you reach the top of the staircase. Opening the door. Going in first as he enters behind you.

"Drink?" You question. Turning behind you to look at him.

"Beer. Please" you go to the kitchen. Grabbing one out from the fridge. He follows. Standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Going back over to him. Handing him his drink. Taking it and opening it. Downing a few mouthfuls of the beverage. Shutting his eyes as the bitter drink goes down his throat. You watch. He moves the cool drink down. Eyes looking at yours before he quickly darts them away.

"Whats wrong?" He shakes his head.

"Nothing"

"Dean"

"Nothing is wrong" He looks at you. His voice stern. Obviously wanting you to drop the situation. You take in a deep breath. Nodding slightly. Looking downwards. You've known him long enough to know when not to pry. If he wants to be open about something then he'll tell you. You hear the sound of glass clinking. You glance back up. His hands come to either side of your face. Cupping your cheeks in his palms. Your eyes watching his. His fingers gentle as they brush under your cheek bones. You bring your hands ups. Taking his wrists in your fists as you watch his kind yet sad eyes. Leaning forward he plants a gentle kiss to your lips. The taste of fresh alcohol on his mouth.

He pulls away. Resting his forehead onto yours. His eyes remaining shut. "Everything will be ok". He kisses your forehead. Moving away from the embrace quickly afterwards. A small sniff as he turns his head. Picking back up his drink. Taking a sip from it. "Where are the girls today?" He looks at you. A smile back on his lips as he meets your eyes. You try and read him. Pausing a moment before answering.

"Lydia stayed round a friends house last. Anna is with her boyfriend".

"Is this that Henry dude?" you nod. A small smile coming over your lips.

"Their first date went well. As you can guess. They've been official for 5 months now" he gives a soft chuckle. Taking a another sip of his drink.

"Can we watch a movie? Or do you have things you need to be doing?" You shake your head.

"I can be free for a couple of hours".

"Good". You take in a small and sharp breath. Going to the living room. He follows. Smiling as he looks at the various movies you have stacked. Picking one out he shows it to you. You nod at the DVD. Not paying much attention to what he actually picked. He goes over to the TV. Managing to figure out the DVD player he puts the disc in. Going over to the sofa. Sitting down he pats next to him. You go over. Sitting comfortably beside him. One hand on his beer. The other rests onto his knee. You hesitate slightly. Leaning your head on his shoulder. You move your hand closest to him. Placing it over his. He doesn't resist as your fingers interlock with his. Feeling his own digits squeeze yours gently as the movie starts to play.

You both watch in silence. The occasional chuckle coming from one of you as the movie plays out. But you don't exchange any witty comments about the movie. Instead you just sit and appreciate each others presence. When the end of the movie starts to rolls credits you move from his shoulder. Grabbing the TV remote as you pause it. Your hand still interlocked with his as it rests on his knee. Turning to look at him. His face turns too. Green eyes meeting yours.

"Good choice" you say. He smiles. Turning his head to watch where he puts his drink. Placing the now empty bottle on the coffee table. Leaning back against the sofa. Looking back at you. Bringing his now free hand up. Gently resting it over the side of your face. Stroking your cheek with his thumb. Your eyes scan over his features. Lifting your hand up. Tracing over his cheekbones. Forehead. Nose. Lips. Gentle touch that he sinks into. Drawing his eyes downwards. Noticing them focus onto your lips. You part them slightly. Breathing in a puff of air.

You notice him hesitate at first. His thumb stilling. Moving it closer to the back of your head as he leans in. Your hands fall to his chest as he kisses you. A soft moan of air escaping you as you taste the fresh beer on his lips. You move away. Eyes quickly scanning each other before your back on each other. Passion filling every inch of both of you as you move to straddle him. Your hands finding refuge on his shoulders as you find your place on his lap. His hands falling to your hips. Digging his fingers into the clothed skin. You move your palms once your secured. Making quick work on his flannel shirt. Pushing it off his shoulders. Once that’s been discarded your fingers find the bottom of his shirt. Breaking the kiss momentarily as you pull it up and over his head.

Arms wrapping around his neck as he pulls you close. One hand going to your lower spine. The other grabbing the flesh of your ass. You smile. Angling yourself before pulling away from the kiss. A couple of inches away. His eyes looking confused before you start to grind against him. His eyes flutter. A gorgeous moan leaving his lips. Feeling him start to grow in his trousers. You place a palm on his cheek. Keeping up your movements. Holding his bicep for support. He shakes his head slightly.

“Need to feel you” his eyes open. Pleading eyes looking into yours. “Please Kathrine”. You smile. Kissing his lips gently.

“Because you asked so nicely”. You stand up. Removing your hoodie and shirt first. His eyes remaining on yours as you throw the items onto the floor. Going to your jeans. Undoing the button and zipper. Drawing them down your legs. Kneeling down. Softly pushing his legs apart as you allow your fingers to dance up his thighs. Getting to his own button and zipper. Undoing them. As well as his belt buckle. He lifts his hips as he helps you bring them down the length of his legs. You rest a palm onto his hardened length. Palming him through his boxers.

He gives a shaky moan. Shaking his head slightly. “Please don’t tease me”. You smile. Kissing his bare thighs. Hands going to his waistband of his underwear. Bringing them down. Letting his cock spring free. You lean forward. Kissing it gently before licking a stripe up it. His hips buck up into your mouth. “Holy fuck”. He mutters. Hand going to your hair. You smile. Leaning your hands onto his thighs as you go upwards. Gently kissing his lips.

“You want to feel me? Be inside of me?” He nods. Hand gripping at your hair as your face hovers inches from his. You smile. Biting your bottom lip. His hand drops your locks as you stand back up in front of him. Hands reaching behind you as you undo your bra. Then linking your fingers into the top of your underwear. Bringing them down your legs. His eyes briefly dart over your curves before meeting your eyes. Those green orbs being blown out with lust.

You place your hands onto his shoulders as you straddle him again. Running a hand down his chest and stomach. Taking his length in your hand. You gently rub the tip against your entrance. Suppressing a moan as it hits your clit. Thankfully the friction from your grinding seems to have gotten you aroused enough as you gently sink down onto him. The feeling of him inside of you fills your very soul. Fluttering your eyes as a groan ripples through your throat. His chest rises as he shuts his eyes. Breathing deeply as he enters you.

You lean forward. Kissing his stunned features. He kisses you back. Hand going to the back of your head. Gripping your hair. You balance yourself on his shoulders. One holding onto it as the other moves down. Gripping his upper arm. Starting to grind against him. Both of you mumbling moans into each others lips. Tongues hitting each other with every kiss. You pull away. Needing some air. Eyes connecting with his. The hand from your head goes to your back. Splayed between your shoulder blades. Pulling your flush against him. His other one goes to your thigh. Dragging his dull nail over your flesh. You tilt your head to the side. Shutting your eyes as you build the pace. The angle being perfect as his cock hits your g-spot with every move. Plus the brush of his pelvis against your clit.

You feel your high building up. Your moans getting louder. You flutter your eyes. His green orbs worshiping you above him. A smile coming over your face. "You're going to make me cum. Fuck" you mutter. Hips start to flutter at the building orgasm. He feels you getting close. His hands finding comfort on your hips as he helps you continue to ride him at your pace. "Shiiit" you draw out a moan. Letting your high hit you. Shutting your eyes as you tilt your head back. His fingers dig into your flesh as he helps you ride it out. A grunt coming from him as you tighten around him.

"Holy fuck" he breaths. Focused on your face. Lips parted as he watches you with doe eyes. Stilling your hips as you bring your head back down. Moving your hands to cup his face as you kiss him. Letting your high wash out of your system as you intoxicate yourself with him. Starting to gently rock your hips again. Feeling him moan into your lips. His hands moving over your body. His cock slipping in and out of your wetness. His length starts twitching inside of you. You smile. Moving away from his kiss as you watch his features. His eyes fluttering open as you smile. Your voice a confident whisper.

"I want you to cum. Cum inside of me". Mixed with your previous orgasm and the build up of his high he reaches his own climax. Shutting his eyes as he pushes you down onto him. Grunting as you feel his warm cum filling your hole. You smile. Leaning forward as you gently kiss him. Wrapping your arms around his neck. Chest flush against his. His arms snake around your torso. Pulling you into him. Heavy breathing being exchanged. You move away slightly. Noses brushing against each other. "We should get dressed". He shakes his head.

"Or we could stay like this?" You smile. Giving a soft chuckle.

"Anna and Lydia will be home soon. I'd rather be dressed before they get back". His eyes dart down to your lips. A smile coming over his features. Just before he screws his eyes shut. Pain knitting across his forehead. Worry fills you. "Dean?" You move your hands. Going back to cupping his cheeks. He bends his head forward. Resting it against your shoulder. Feeling his hands clench into fists on your back. "Dean whats wrong?" You feel him take a few deep breaths. Your hands move from his face to gently rest on the back of his head and neck. Gently stroking the short hairs on his scalp.

"Michael". He speaks the word softly. Your entire body going tense. He lifts his head up. Leaning back. Your hands resting gently onto his shoulders as he looks at you. "He's in my head. Quite literally". You shake your head.

"I don't understand". You admit. Sadness in your voice.

"Michael is riding along with me. But I'm in control at the moment". You nod. Eyes darting upwards. You bring a hand up. Gently tracing over this forhead.

"Can't you kick him out?"

"I've tried. Sam and Cas have tried". He takes in a breath. "I'm going to find a way. I'll make sure he cant hurt anyone else. Ever again". He brings a hand up. Resting it onto your cheek. Thumb soft as he rubs your cheekbone. "Thank you for everything Kat. You've saved me more times then I can count". He leans forward. Gently kissing you. Your kiss breaks prematurely as you hear a car outside. The distant but familiar voice of your daughter.

"Shit" you say. Standing up. Both of you moving quickly to place your clothes back on. Managing to get yourselves both sorted before you hear the front door open. Smiling as you see Anna walk in. "Hey sweetie. Look who's come to visit us". Dean moves slightly. Going into the view of your eldest daughter. Smiling as he sees Anna who does a happy run towards him. Wrapping her arms around his waist as he hugs her. She moves away. Looking up at him as she has a giant smile on her face.

"I wasn't expecting to see you!" she says excitedly. You give her a small look. Almost offended.

"Do I not get a hug?" she turns to you.

"I hug you all the time"

"I still like being hugged". She rolls her eyes but comes over and hugs you quickly. Smiling as she pulls away. "Thank you" you speaks sarcastically. Ruffling your daughters hair. "I'll leave you two to catch up now. Ill go and put some food in" Dean shakes his head.

"I'm actually en route somewhere so I should head off". You look at him. A small concern in your eye as Anna pouts at him. Folding her arms over her torso.

"No fair! I've only just got here". He smiles. Bringing her in for another hug. Her arms sandwiched between the two of them as they remain folded over herself.

"I know but I promised my mum I'd go to hers for food and I don't want to keep her waiting". He kisses the top of her head before moving away. He comes over to you. Placing a hand on your hip as he kisses your cheek. Lingering as he whispers into your ear. "Thank you for everything". He moves away. Refusing to look at you. You bring your bottom lip between your teeth. Grabbing his wrist as you pull him in for a hug. Wrapping your arms around his neck. Hiding your face in his shoulder as he mimics you. Head in the crook of your neck as his arms go around your waist. Gripping at the fabric of your hoodie.

He moves away. Smiling sadly at you before turning to Anna again. "Tell your sister that I said hi will you?". She nods.

"Of course". He smiles at you both.

"I'll see myself out" he says. You watch sadly as he exits your home. Taking in a shaky breath. Feeling tears prickle at your eyes.

"What was all that about?" you turn to her. "Hes never normally that affectionate towards you". You shrug. Smiling sweetly at her.

"He umm... he had a bad day at work. Come on. Lets do something fun"

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