#this damn series has taken over my brain

[the-eternal-child]

So I was just singing Spy x Family's praises to my friend (as you do), and it occurred to me that the characters' backstories may be revealed in the order they were introduced: Twilight>Anya>Yor.

We know that each member of the main cast has had painful childhood experiences (honestly, I wouldn't even know how to rank who had it worse because each is its own brand of hell), it could make perfect sense to introduce the backstories sequentially or it could be introduced as leading themes into current plotlines. Who knows?

Chapter 90.5 has us all waiting with baited breath to see if we're getting Anya's backstory or not and I think if we are getting another look into someone's past, Anya's makes the most sense. Though Endo could be a complete tease and not give us anything for another 10 chapters 😭.

Twilight's backstory provided some great context into his past and what led to his current emotional struggles, setting the context for why he holds fast to his goal of 'creating a peaceful world' while fighting his losing battle of loving his new little family (especially the mole arc hoooboy!).

We already have in story context for Project Apple, we know it's existence, that there was human and animal experimentation (Anya and Bond) and that the subjects were being used for political goals somehow. We had the lead up of little bread crumbs along the way like she might have 'escaped the lab', her random knowledge of classical language, etc. Now would be a good time to start working toward weaving that story more fully into the main plot line (Random aside but has anyone ever noticed Desmond has 2 scars on the side of his head like Frankenstein's screws?).

I think Yor's backstory is still quite a ways off. There's still too much we don't know about Garden, I think, for them to introduce her backstory and how she met them. They're shady af, we don't know what their motives are, who they work for, nothing!

I mean, was anyone else worried when Yor mentioned Loid took a liking to Desmond and Shopkeeper was like 'oh really?'. That was so sinister, and it was never mentioned again! Makes me feel like a setup to him digging into Loid Forger or something.

Bringing in Garden's orgins seems like material leading up to identity reveals between Yor and Twilight, and the story just isn't there yet. So Anya it is and I'm so ready but I'm so NOT!

Anyhow, thank you for listening to me ramble about this series that has taken over my life! Have a good day! BYYYYYEEEEEEE!

[seizingthesky]

Every time I hear Shion’s voice I get 1 year added to my lifespan. Tachibana Shinnosuke the man that you are

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (39/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Addicted is the only word to describe Charles.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of sex, male masturbation, cunniligus, breeding kink and choking (if you squint)), angst and fluff

Word Count: 3.8k

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A/N: tbh, I'd be on my knees for this Charles in a heartbeat. feedback is appreciated!

Your fingertips on Charles' naked thigh make his brain short-circuit. 

Your unexpected, gentle touch shoots like lightning through his skin like lightning and then through his veins until the heat spreads throughout his body and his muscles are on fire. His heart is beating so hard that he fears it will break his bones and jump out of his chest. He can hear the blood pounding in his ears, goosebumps are spreading across his skin – but when he looks at you, he can no longer think clearly.

He never would have expected you to be so close again. He could never have dreamt of it.

After the night before yesterday, he no longer believed that he would be able to feel your touch again.

The memory of you fleeing from the bed is as deeply ingrained in his thoughts as your touch and your expression when you came on his thigh. 

He had to hold back the whole evening the day before. To be honest, he had struggled with himself and forced himself to behave normally, even though all he could think about was you sitting on his lap and him rubbing you over his bulge until his damn phone rang. And even though he jerked off in the shower after his workout, it definitely wasn't enough to satisfy his craving for you. His hand is not you – and by God, he's addicted to your touch.

When you touched his hand in the car on the way to dinner with his family and played with his fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world, it had taken him an incredible amount of strength and willpower to keep the car in the lane and not to pull over to the nearest lay-by or parking lot and rearrange your guts. 

He is extremely embarrassed by how much like a horny teenager he acts as soon as you are around. 

Since you first shared a bed and you unconsciously pressed against him in your sleep, he can no longer get the feeling of your body against his out of his head. The way you snuggled up against him, how your curves perfectly matched his. And you still had your pajamas on then. 

He feels very ashamed of how good you felt when you lay in his arms and cried. How soft your skin was on his, how warm you were – how perfect. He would have liked to give himself a slap or two because your dilemma had been so profitable for him personally. That he could hold you and protect you. That he could feel you. 

And your touch hasn't stopped since. Your fingertips on his bare shoulder, your palm on his stubbled cheek when he told you he was jealous of Lando and your friendship, even though that was never entirely true, of course. Your legs between his, your hand on his chest and your lips on his neck as you poured your hearts out at dawn and purple skies. 

But even though he is addicted to your closeness and the feeling you evoke in him like a drug addict, it's not as if he actively or consciously sought your touch. Like two magnets, you hadn't been able to separate after the night, whether it was at breakfast or when you were in his embrace when he told you how good your touch felt and that you shouldn't stop. 

And as if his prayers had been answered – you definitely hadn't stopped. You had intertwined your fingers, felt his heartbeat under your hand. And for a moment he had enjoyed it and let himself be carried away. 

His hands on your hips, his palms on your cheeks and his nose on yours. None of his touches had been conscious, but the result of his desire, which he suppressed so as not to jeopardize your friendship. How can a simple touch make his cock so painfully hard that he has to arrange his erection in his pants so that it is not visible to everyone?

He can't even imagine what would have happened if Pierre and Kika hadn't entered your apartment without getting a raging boner.

It would definitely be smarter if he at least made a reasonable effort to stay away from you a little and not look for your touch every second. But even when you were sitting in the car with Kika and Pierre, he had longed for you. And it had taken about three turns in Pierre's SUV before he had reached out for you and wrapped his long fingers around a calf. Thank heavens you even held out your leg so that he could grab it better. 

From that moment on, he became more shameless around you, even though he cringed inwardly every time. For example, when you were standing in front of the bed in the furniture store and he whispered to you that you should lie down on the bed so that he could see what you looked like in it before he bought it. And that he insists that you continue to share the bed. Of course, only under the pretext that you can sleep better if you fall asleep snuggled up together.

He didn't hesitate for a moment to lift you off the couch and onto Jori's terrace, only to lie down on it himself so that he could then pull you onto him with your full weight. He had seen the insecurity in your face, the way you shifted from one foot to the other, but he had also seen a sparkle in your eyes – desire perhaps? – and nothing in this world could have stopped him from feeling your weight on him. 

You felt perfect on top of him when he wrapped his arms around you and pressed you against him so hard that there was a chance you might leave an imprint of your head on his chest if you ever got up again. His lips found their place on the crown of your head and his hand found your bare skin under your shirt as you snuggled up to him and giggled that he was very comfortable despite his muscles. 

What went through his mind when he offered you that he could lie on top of you, he doesn't know himself. But something about being able to burn all the things that have caused him so much pain in the last few weeks had made him brave and maybe a little crazy. His hand in your hair, the other under your sweater on your spine. His lips on your nose and forehead. 

Then let's stay here. On this couch. It's not as comfortable as our bed, but at least I'll have you lying on top of me.

Charles fears he is losing his mind. 

He lost his mind when he asked you if you would snuggle with him and his heart skipped a beat when you assured him that friends can snuggle too. When he put your leg over his hip. When you pressed your face against his neck and inhaled his scent. He had to move your leg down onto his legs, otherwise you would have felt his hard-on. And all because you touched his neck. 

He didn't even know how sensitive his muscular neck was until you brushed your lips over the soft skin there. And as if there was a switch in his body, blood shoots to his cock every time you come anywhere near his neck. As if his body were programmed to react to your gentle touch. Just as his heart reacts to your closeness. 

He couldn't wait to introduce you to his family. The fact that his maman had already taken you into her heart had only encouraged him more to keep you close to him – in whatever way. Be it as a friend, as it was unspokenly agreed, or as more – as his family now saw you. 

Another crucial point that made him more bold. Because if you didn't want to address the matter and clarify it, then surely you have no problem with him leaning far out of the window and demanding your closeness? 

Are you a good girl, mon amour? 

He is so happy that you get along so well with his family and that they have apparently adopted you outright. The way they have taken you into their midst – even if it meant that he had to sit on that damn stool all evening. But every time he looked at your beaming face, it was worth the back pain. 

He would do anything to see you happy. And he definitely wasn't lying when he told his mom that you're “the absolute best thing that could have happened to him.” 

He has never felt so good or so loved by anyone else, even if you only consider him your best friend. This is a fact that he tries to ignore, but it is repeatedly brought to his attention whether he likes it or not. 

Every time he looks at you, he hears Joris voice in his head, whispering best friend to him, along with the question of whether he loves you, which he has left unanswered. He can't answer the question, he doesn't want to answer the question, because if he were to answer it in the affirmative, then – then – 

Your hands on his naked back, your ass on the back of his thighs, your palms on his chest. 

If you only see him as your best friend, how come you looked so indescribably divine when you came on his leg? Why do you assure him that nothing changes when he touches you intimately, when his whole world is shaken by the way you cling to him and moan when he runs his tongue along your neck?

He would have liked to throw you on your back and rip your shirt open to get to your naked skin faster. He would have sucked, licked, bitten, if you had let him. He would have pushed his face between your thighs and tasted you on his tongue until you came for him several times, burying your hands in his dark hair and moaning his name. 

But you weren't ready yet. And he definitely wasn't going to risk everything. 

Look at me, mon amour. Look at me when you come for me. 

Even if he suffered a severe concussion in the next race, he would never be able to forget the look on your face. What his hand looked like on your throat. How your ass felt in his hand. 

How you left the bed because you felt uncomfortable because of him. 

He doesn't know where it all went wrong. One moment you were moaning his name, his fingertips had felt the curve of your boobs and you had snuggled up to him – and then you were gone, unreachable and distant. He didn't buy the excuse that you weren't tired for a second. But why would you leave him?

Had he crossed a line? Did you feel pushed when he rocked you back and forth on his thigh to make you feel pleasure? What happened in the few minutes you were lying in bed cuddling that you found his closeness so unbearable that you had to flee the bed?

Was he too forward? Too – too non-platonic, that he frightened you with his behavior? Did you feel so uncomfortable about his touch, his comments, that you saw no other way out than to create an insurmountable physical distance that unconsciously shattered his heart?

He had sworn to himself that he would do everything to maintain this friendship. And if that meant giving you this space, not touching you anymore, not calling you mon amour, then he would do so without hesitation, even if it hurt him more than he would ever admit. 

Calling you mon ami felt strange and forced. Your cheek burned on his palm as he touched you one last time. A selfish move he couldn't suppress, that he had to claim for himself before moving away from you so that you wouldn't give up on this friendship. 

The night on the couch had been hell – and not just because the cushion was uncomfortable. Charles had barely been able to get any sleep because his thoughts revolved only around you, the look in your eyes and the tears that had rolled down your cheeks.

He would keep his distance, as little as possible and as much as necessary, so that you would continue to tolerate him around you. He would do anything to save this friendship, even if it meant swallowing his feelings. 

He didn't know what was happening to him when you brought him breakfast the next morning. Apparently, the night on the couch had been the right direction, the first right step to keep you around, which is why he invited you to his boat as a makeshift solution – under the pretext of having to take photos for his Instagram profile – but had forwarded the tickets he had booked for the two of you to Pierre so that they would at least not expire. 

There would be time to visit Paris during Christmas. Hopefully. 

The day on the boat went much better than he had imagined. Although he held back and didn't touch you under any circumstances, you had been as close emotionally as friends could be, which was certainly due in part to the alcohol. Or maybe it was his honesty when he called to you over the roar of the ocean that he was afraid that things between you would never be the same again. That he would lose you. 

And you looked so beautiful lying next to him on the sun bed. So carefree, as if nothing had ever happened between you. As if you had never been anything but friends. And when you assured him that you would like to work with him, he would have liked to kiss you until there was no air left in his lungs. 

You would work with him. Spend time with him – voluntarily. You would travel the world with him, see the most beautiful places and get to know different cultures – with him. And maybe, just maybe, you would fall in love with him at some point during your journey together, give yourself to him, just like you did once before.

An imagination he clung to as he touched himself in the shower a short time later. How your lips would feel on his. Your mouth on his cock, your tongue on the soft underside of his dick. 

He imagined you lying on the bed in front of him – his new bed – face down, ass up, while he slowly and deeply pushed into you, knocking you over the edge. How your skin would feel, naked and warm as he filled you up with his load, how it would run sticky and hot down your thighs, only for him to catch it with the tip of his tongue and lap it up and stuff it back inside you until you were crying with pleasure and overstimulation. 

He sincerely hopes that the walls of the boat were thick enough. 

What he had hoped for, but couldn't have imagined, was the moment when you smiled at him the next morning. After he had confessed to you, without thinking about what boundaries he would cross or what ocean he would cross, that he couldn't be without you anymore – and you had replied that you couldn't live without him either. 

Another step in the right direction. 

Another step when his mother told you that she had prepared your bed – singular – for you – and you didn't instinctively refuse to share the room with him. You could have gone home, you could have asked Charles to sleep on the couch or to get another room. 

But even when he looked at you and promised you that he would do everything in his power to fix this friendship and to keep you from turning away from him completely, you didn't push him away. He had laid his heart open to you as much as he could without having to answer in the affirmative to that lingering question. 

You are the first thing he thinks about in the morning. You are the person he looks forward to seeing most when he comes home. 

And even when he revealed to you that he couldn't stop thinking about how you feel, you didn't back down. When he confessed to you that you may be his best friend, but you're also so much more and that he craves you. 

You didn't leave. 

Quite the opposite. 

The thought that he carried around with him for a whole day, that you feel uncomfortable around him, that the distance between you is the right thing, is swept away with just one touch. Erased. Non-existent. 

He wants to kiss you, feel your skin against his, claim you for himself. But all he can do is stare at your hand lying on his. He doesn't even feel the tears of joy rolling down his cheeks. All he feels is your hand on his. 

He can't answer the question Joris asked him with words, without risking losing his heart to you forever, but the Monegasque can squeeze your hand. Twice. 

Your fingertips on Charles' thigh make his brain short-circuit, as your hand squeezes his. 

Twice.

[dollfaceksj]

the pink pill | myg version (m) — “no one else”

➥ banner by @jkndigo.

➥ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ porn with plot ⋆ exes

➥ CATEGORY: one-shot [part of the pink pill series]

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, angst, exes but also idiots, degradation kink, unprotected sex (dont be like them), rough sex but also love-making??, did i mention a bit of angst, multiple positions guys yoongi is catching up for missing u all those times likeee, spankingggg, making out w tongue, overstimulation, claiming/possessiveness, multiple orgasms for reader, extremelyhorny!reader, cocky exboyfriend!yoongi…. yeah., hes a sick son of a bitch but thats why we like him besides he’s pretty tame in this i have worse yoongi’s up my sleeve this is nothin, neither of you have moved on, mutual pining but mutual STUBBORNNESSSSS for fucks sake, filthy words, creampie, oral sex (f. rec), embarrassingly quick climaxes likeee, minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 9.8k

a/n: and at last, yoongi’s ver of the pink pill is finally out!!! thank you for loving jk’s version! i hope you enjoy yoongi’s. beware of a bit of angst and complicated feelings<33

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

Your trembling thumb hovers over the blue arrow next to your unsent message, eyes scanning over the message over and over again. Your heart might implode in your chest the moment you hit send, which is why you’ve been staring at the message that would cause more cons than pros for the past 5 minutes.

Well, would it, though? It’s just a favor. You need a favor.

It’s like your brain is talking directly to your heart. Your brain is telling you how bad of an idea this is whilst your heart is just rolling its non-existent eyes at the nagging, as if your heart isn’t about to slide up your airways into your esophagus, travel straight up your burning throat and launch out of your mouth. You need to calm down.

The aggravating lump in your throat doesn’t let up.

And that’s when the pad of your thumb impulsively hits the damn blue arrow that’s been mockingly staring at you for the past few minutes.

[11:12PM]

from: You

to: Ignore

can you come over

Once the small letters that say ‘delivered’ pop up under your blue message, you internally scream into the void. Your eyes stay glued to your phone, the back of your phone is becoming slimy in your grasp due to the sweat your palms are rapidly producing.

You barely blink as you stare at the screen, your lips twitching as you wait and attempt to ignore the anxiety bubbling in your chest.

Your gaze slowly shifts upwards on the conversation, rereading old messages. The last you heard from him was 4 months ago. The two of you broke up around 9 months ago but still slept together for a good 2-3 months after.

The last message between you two from 4 months ago was you asking him when he could come pick up the rest of his shit. He came, picked up his shit and that’s when you last saw him. You barely exchanged any words. You had anticipated having sex one last time but he just wordlessly collected his stuff and left.

So, it’s understandable why you’d be so worried about asking him to come over and… well, ask him if he can fuck the shit out of you.

Your heart plummets into the pit of the earth when you notice the ‘delivered’ has turned into ‘read 11:13PM’.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

He’s not responding.

Why is he not responding?

One minute passes. Two minutes pass. Three minutes. Four.

You’ve been staring at your phone the entire time and not once did the bubble that indicates he’s typing pop up.

What if he doesn’t even want to talk to you?

Fuck.

What the fuck were you even thinking?

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

After cleaning up the coffee table that was covered in snacks and empty cans that you used to take your mind off the excruciating arousal pooling in your core, you start heading into your once-shared bedroom with your head held down. It’s been 12 minutes since you sent that message and you haven’t gotten a response.

You’re a damn loser.

You plan to start slipping out of your plain shirt and shorts, cringing when you realize you’ve completely soaked through your cotton shorts. How fucking embarrassing. What the hell is in that pill?

Right as your fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts to pull them down your legs, you hear a rhythmic knock on your front door.

What? Who could…

Wait.

It possibly couldn’t be.

The lump returns to your throat at lightning speed as you start heading down your corridor, sluggishly dragging your feet across the floor.

You press your hand flat against the door in an attempt to gather your thoughts and collect your breath before you slowly start opening up, his familiar feline eyes staring at you with an agitated look pooling in them.

“What do you want?” He doesn’t even have the decency to greet you, he just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants.

You quietly swallow as you cross your arms over your chest, stepping to the side to wordlessly invite him in. When he gives you a raised eyebrow in confusion, you say, “I don’t need my neighbors hearing my business.”

The exasperated sigh he lets out slightly stings but he walks in nonetheless. You close the door behind him but he’s showing no intentions or moves to take his shoes off. He just stands in front of the door, annoyance draped over his features.

You silently stare up at him, hoping he doesn’t notice your strange demeanor.

“So? Are you gonna tell me what you want or are you just gonna stare at me and continue to waste my time?” His words are blunt and brutal—the bitterness that he still holds in his heart for you hasn’t left him, it seems.

You finally find the courage to speak up and quietly say, “I need a favor, Yoongi.”

He blankly stares at you for a few moments. Humorlessly laughs at your request. Drops his head. Shakes it from side to side in disbelief.

You can’t help but glare at his reaction, fighting the urge to roll your eyes and spew insulting words at him. This is kind of selfish of you.

“Why would I do you a favor?” he asks once he’s stopped laughing, staring you down with hooded eyelids and no traces of mock amusement left on his face.

“I’ll owe you,” you say, failing to hide the clear annoyance in your tone. You want to strangle him.

“You already owe me.” His response is almost immediate, leaving you speechless for a few seconds as you stare up at him with a frown etched onto your brows.

“Excuse me? What the fuck do I owe you?”

He tilts his head to the side with an irritated look on his face before he says, “I don’t know, you wasted 3 years of my fucking life?”

You exaggeratedly roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head in exasperation. “I could quite literally say the same to you.”

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his intense stare down never letting up.

He decides to ignore your remark and repeats, “What do you want, Y/N?”

You swallow again, looking to the side to avoid his penetrating gaze as you think about how the fuck you’re going to ask him what you want to ask him.

How do you even begin to ask?

Hey, you haven’t heard from me in months but could you fuck me real quick?

“What? Do you need money?” he asks in a neutral tone, although you can sense the concern tinged in his words.

“No,” you mumble, the collar of your shirt is starting to feel like it’s closing in around the perimeter of your neck with the goal of suffocating you.

He continues, “Then what? An alibi?”

You throw your head back in exasperation as you groan, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

It’s quiet for a moment and it makes you look at him. You notice he’s staring straight at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on and what you aren’t telling him.

“Need some lovin’?” he asks with a certain humorous tone, the joke causing you to glance up at him through your lashes with big eyes.

It seems like only then that he takes notice of your swollen lips, your dilated pupils, the thin layer of sweat on your forehead and the quickened breathing with the way his eyes scan your entire face and the frown on his brows slowly disappearing when the realization dawns on him.

He narrows his eyes at you and his hands leave his pockets, swiftly moving to cross over his chest as his lips twitch, something you can only describe as him trying to stifle a smirk. “You actually asked me to come over so I could come fuck you?”

Your mind travels at incomprehensible speed to come up with an answer, leaving you scrambled and almost stuttering. You blurt out, “It’s your fault.”

This makes his brows pinch together in utter confusion. “How the hell is it my fault?”

A deep sigh pushes past your lips as you drop your arms from your chest, hands resting on your hips as you look at the floor in shame. “I was cleaning shit up and I came across that dumb pink pill you bought that you wanted me to try but never got the chance to,” you explain, peeking up at him through your lashes momentarily before averting your gaze again.

“Pill? What pink pill?” he repeats, the frown on his face deepening further as the word leaves his mouth.

“Yes, that stupid pink pussycat pill, Yoongi. We bought it as a joke to try on our anniversary but then we had that stupid fight.” You try to get him to recall the events of a year ago, the quick wince on his face at the mention of your anniversary fight doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Anyway, I didn’t want it to go to waste and I was wondering what it might feel like or if it even works. So, I took it earlier today, for shits and giggles.”

He slowly nods to your words as the memories come back to him, seemingly remembering how excited he was for you to take that pill. “So, I reckon the pill is doing what it said it would?”

You merely grunt in response.

He’s silent for a few seconds before quietly chuckling, shaking his head. His chuckle is so deep and sultry, it shoots a tingle right down your soaked panties.

You huff, “What’s so amusing, you dickhead?”

He glances at you through his brows for a moment before averting his gaze, his eyes roaming his surroundings as he looks around your once-shared home. “I’m just flattered, is all.”

“Flattered?” you repeat, a disapproving frown on your features. He’s turning this entire thing into a compliment for himself.

You really can’t fucking stand him.

“You could’ve flaunted that pretty face out at some bar and gotten someone to fuck you without needing to offer any favors,” he explains, giving you a glimpse of his thought process, those words making your body heat up all over again.

Damn him.

You know Yoongi has always found you insanely attractive but him so nonchalantly reminding you has set your insides aflame.

“You know I don’t do that stuff,” you mumble with a shake to your head.

His bitter, humorless chuckle booms in your ears. Why does it sound like he’s literally inside your head? “That’s exactly how we met, you dirty liar.” He reminds you of how his hips were slamming into yours an hour after you met him and no rebuttal comes to your mind.

You silently stare at him, bringing your hand up to wipe some of the sweat off your hairline with the back of your index finger.

“Yeah, you know what? I don’t know why I even texted you. You can leave,” you say, a surge of anger coursing through your veins as you reach for the door handle but Yoongi is quicker than you.

His hand quickly reaches for yours, fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist. “I can tell you why you did,” he quips, cockily.

You glare up at him but make no effort to remove his hand from your skin, the single touch of his skin against yours sends lava down all your veins and every single one of your nerve-endings. Fuck, you wish you could pounce him right fucking now. You finally gather your thoughts and say, “Oh, please, do enlighten me.”

“You asked me here because you don’t want all that arousal to go to waste on someone that doesn’t know your body like I do.” He starts closing the gap between you two, face closing in on yours. “They won’t do the things you like.”

Your throat tightens at his proximity and his words, your lungs seconds away from imploding in between your ribcage.

“And you’re too shy to tell them because you know you like filthy things.” He moves his other hand up to trace the shell of your ear with the tip of his index finger, his eyes glued to how his finger glides down your skin.

If he noticed his touch instantly awoke the goosebumps on your skin, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to play with your ear, fingers coming down to rub your earlobe in between the pads of his thumb and index finger.

“No one knows your body like I do, no one else.” He drops his hand from your ear to trace the collar of your shirt, the tip of his finger occasionally grazing your neck. “No one knows how filthy you are. How needy you are. How you like to be touched and kissed. That’s how I know,” he concludes.

He adds, “You clearly haven’t moved on.”

He was doing so well, too.

Haven’t moved on? Son of a bitch.

“Yeah, well, what about you?” you blurt out. You watch as his thick eyebrows scrunch together in smug mockery.

“What about me? Don’t turn this on me, sweetheart. You’re the one asking me to come fuck you.” He starts to take off his shoes, kicking them aside like he used to do.

Cocky asshole.

“You showed up 10 minutes after a simple ‘come over’ text, no questions asked.” You remind him of tonight’s events and his face slowly turns into a scowl, his usual quick witty comebacks suddenly nonexistent.

“So what?” he mumbles, not in the mood to fight you for this any longer because he knows he’ll lose.

“Just admit you want this as bad as I do instead of being smart about it,” you say, rolling your eyes as you take a step back to create some more distance between you two. You hadn’t realized he’d gotten that close.

He shrugs his shoulders with an air of nonchalance, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I wouldn’t say as bad as you.”

Right, because you took that pill and your arousal is off the charts.

He must think he’s sooooooo funny.

“You’re a lia–”

Before you can even finish speaking, he takes a step closer and it inevitably traps you in between his body and the wall behind you. He arrogantly adds, “Want me to push my fingers into your panties and check?”

Fuck.

He shouldn’t still have the ability to knock the oxygen right out of your lungs with just silly words. He shouldn’t.

You stare up at him with a furrow in your brows, eyes wide and lips almost quivering, simply at the thought of him touching you. Damn him.

And he knows.

Because his gaze drops to your lips before back to your eyes, the corners of his own lips curling up at something he’s thinking about.

“What?” you grumble, your voice barely coming out and leaving you for dead in your time of need.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head and adds a shrug to his shoulders for extra nonchalance. “I just think after you ran your mouth like this, it’d be more fun to make you beg for it.”

Your hands come up to his chest, pressing flat against him to push him back but he doesn’t budge an inch because there’s no real strength behind the push and he knows it.

“I hate you,” you quietly say, hands still pressed up against his chest with the tiniest bit of pressure to make it seem like you don’t want him.

Unfortunately, Yoongi knows you too well.

“That’s fine, as long as you’re good to me.” The words leave his mouth in a breathy chuckle that drapes over your lips as his face closes in on yours, plump lips grazing the skin of your jaw. “You were always so good to me.”

“Why did you leave me, then?” Your voice comes out a bit choked, a big gulp following your question and it’s almost like you’re attempting to swallow the words back down. You can’t believe you just blurted that out. Is one of the side effects of that dumb pink pill being emotional as hell?

He freezes for a few seconds before pulling away and searching for your eyes. His expression is decorated by a frown and his pretty lips are pressed into a thin line.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets the deafening silence settle around you. Stares at you as if one of the world’s greatest unsolved mysteries is being revealed to him and the answer is in your irises. Watches as you idly blink at him and it makes his lips twitch. Seems to be in deep thought and you can’t figure out what’s going through his mind for the life of you.

Then, he speaks.

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

His words paired with his intense gaze sends a jolt of electricity down your spine, leaving your legs to wobble like they’re made of jelly.

You both stare at each other for a while in complete silence. His familiar, black, feline eyes staring into yours so intimately summon a vine that wraps around your heart, digging its sharp thorns into your most beloved organ until it bleeds out all over your insides.

He’s right.

You clearly haven’t moved on.

“Let’s just,” you pause and shake your head free of those thoughts. You don’t bother to finish your sentence as you wrap your fingers around his wrist, leading him toward your once-shared bedroom and he simply lets you.

As soon as you walk in, you let go of his hand and reach for the hem of your shirt. You yank it off your body without a second of hesitation before tossing it somewhere on the floor and it makes him chuckle for some reason.

You turn to glare at him. “Something funny?” you snark, arms crossing over your chest like a child that wanted the purple lollipop instead of the yellow one.

He stares at you from the entrance of your room, an amused smile still on his pretty lips. His eyes scan the walls and the furniture as he slowly makes his way in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I see that you’ve changed the entire room.”

Your eyes follow the direction of his gaze, scanning around the room as if you’d forgotten what you changed about the place. “Yeah.”

He struts toward you, getting so close that he’s practically pressed up against you. His onyx eyes stare you down, one of his infamous unreadable expressions plastered on his face. “Trying to act like I never existed?” he asks, hands still buried in his pockets and fuck, how you wish he would just give in and touch you.

You simply blink up at him, your eyes pingpong-ing between his eyes from left to right continuously as you try to think of a way to answer.

Should you lie? Should you just be honest?

As if on cue, your question is answered when he lazily places his right hand on your hip, pulling you even closer to him.

Be honest.

“No.” You shake your head slightly, never breaking eye contact with the enticing man in front of you. “I was never going to forget about you if everywhere I looked just reminded me of you.”

His hand tenses on your hip, a muscle in his jaw tenses up and your eyes are just in time to catch the way his Adam’s apple bounces up and down.

You shift your eyes back up to his, blinking your eyelids at him so innocently yet so full of temptation. He slowly starts nodding his head as if he just had an epiphany and then moves his hand from your hip to your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, thumb rubbing circles onto your bare skin.

You shrug your shoulders smugly. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He doesn’t need anything else. His lips are on top of yours the moment the words leave your mouth, teeth clashing at how quickly he lunges at you.

His mouth devours you like a man starved as his other hand grips the back of your head to keep you in his grasp, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

Several soft moans resound in your throat that he simply swallows, hand balling into a fist on the back of your head, gripping your hair at the root.

You mewl, your hands coming up to squeeze his biceps as you try to grind your hips into his. Fuck, you’re like a fucking animal in heat.

“Fuck, I’m barely touching you and you’re this needy,” he whispers against your open mouth before shoving his tongue back in.

Your insides are set ablaze when he starts pushing you backwards with his own body until your calves hit the mattress and automatically makes you fall backwards, dropping onto your bed.

He wastes no time climbing on top of you, lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down the column of your throat to the strap of your bra as he gently starts tugging them off your shoulders.

You automatically arch your back off the mattress, encouraging him to unclasp your bra and he does.

Whilst he unclasps your bra, he coats your collarbones in soft kisses and absentmindedly throws your bra to the side as he brings his hand back up to fondle your breast in his large hand.

“Fuck,” you whisper, every single inch of his touch electrifies your body and sets your soul alight. Damn, you’ve missed this.

His thumb gently teases your erect nipple, rolling it around whilst he continues to nibble on the skin of your neck.

Your hips involuntarily buck upwards into nothing and you almost flinch at the way his breath grazes your neck when Yoongi softly chuckles, clearly finding your extreme level of arousal amusing.

“Can you just stop teasing me?” you whine, legs spreading wider and wider without a second thought.

“You’re gonna have to ask a lot nicer if you want me to do that, sugar.” He lifts his head off your shoulder and closes in on your other breast, wrapping his lips around it whilst his hand slowly travels down your stomach to your clothed sex. He starts sucking on your nipple and the effects of that pill makes it so it feels like he’s touching you all over, on every part of your body, on every inch of your skin. Causes you to squirm and moan under him like a fish separated from a body of water.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, “I should’ve made you take that pill so fucking long ago. Look at you.”

You simply grumble, “Fuck you.”

He lifts his head off your breast to stare at you directly in the eyes and you instantly regret running your mouth. “Yoongi, I just want–”

Smack!

“Ow!” you cry out, the warmth of the slap on your pussy spreading through your skin like wildfire. You instantly whimper, “I’m sorry.”

The apology means nothing to him, though.

He shakes his head. “Always running that fucking mouth of yours.” His fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts and he slides them down your legs before tossing them aside like he has personal beef with the article of clothing.

“Holy shit,” he whispers as he glances at the massive wet patch on your panties and all the slick smeared around your inner thighs, eyes practically bulging out of his eye sockets.

You can’t help but frown, though. “What?”

“No wonder,” he says, seemingly answering his own unspoken question. “You are completely soaked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucking horny.”

You whine, tucking your thumbs under the hem of your panties to drag them down your legs and he doesn’t even try to stop you, just simply stares at you in awe but your panties don’t budge an inch when you stop and decide to just give in, in hopes he’ll fall for your tricks.

“Please, just,” you yelp, “fuck me. Please. I think I’ll die if you don’t.”

He throws his head back as he laughs, his gorgeous neck on full display for you. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Yoongi,” you pause, “I’m so fucking serious. I’ve been thinking about you fucking me all day. I need you to. Please.”

He searches your face and seemingly takes note of the desperation and earnestness in your eyes. Shortly after, he drags his gaze down your exposed body, simply staring at your naked figure.

Sprawled out on your bed, lips swollen, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, pupils dilated, breasts bare with nipples standing at attention and your arousal that has already started dripping onto your sheets.

He slowly starts to nod his head and in the blink of an eye, he yanks his own shirt off.

The view of his bare chest brings back so many memories, all the times he fucked you good come rushing back to you and it isn’t fucking helping your case.

A persistent lump forms in your throat that refuses to disappear but that’s when you realize that it’s not just a lump but words. The words ‘I miss you’ are forcing their way to the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill.

But you absolutely refuse to let that happen.

Just bite your tongue.

“All day, huh?” he muses, talking more to himself. He quickly ditches his sweatpants in the meantime and tosses them off the bed. “What took you so long to text me?”

You silently watch as he crawls back over to you in just his black boxers, settling right next to your body and supporting his own weight with his elbow while his other hand returns to your panties. Teasingly plays with the hem. Presses his lips against your neck. Inhales your scent.

You stay quiet for a few moments, eyes shut tightly at the tip of his fingers brushing against your pelvis. So close yet so far. “My pride,” you finally reply.

He simply chuckles at your words and slowly tucks his fingers under the hem of your panties, groaning when the back of his knuckles brush against the sticky patch of your arousal on the inside of your panties. “I don’t think I’ve seen this amount of wetness. Not even in porn.”

His skin finally makes contact with your sex, running right up your wet slit and collecting all of your arousal on the tip of his finger. “Holy fucking shit, Y/N.”

You mewl, hips already thrusting up into his hand but he simply uses his palm to press down on your pelvis.

“Stay still.” The demand makes your insides twist into a wringed out shirt and makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“I can’t,” you whimper, legs shaking at the simple touch of his fingers smearing your arousal all over your sex. “I’m trying to but I can’t.”

It’s like you have no control over your body whatsoever. You just want to be fucked.

“Why can’t you?” he quips as he plunges two fingers right into you, groaning when your slick walls tightly hug his fingers. He already knows, he just likes to push your buttons.

“Because I want you,” you breathe out, moaning at the sensation of his fingers slowly pumping into you. Your sensitivity is off the fucking charts, just his fingers being buried in your pussy without any movement whatsoever could have you cumming in no time.

“I can tell,” he cockily chuckles. His sultry laugh is so full of mockery, the type that would usually piss you the fuck off but in this moment turns you the fuck on. “I just need to prep you, baby. Can’t be hurting you simply because you’re writhing like an animal in heat.”

You quickly shake your head. “I don’t need any fucking prep,” you moan as his hand picks up in pace. “Please, just fuck me. I’m already wetter than I’ve ever been. You literally just said it yourself.”

He lifts his head off your collarbones and searches your eyes for a moment, a stern frown on his brows. “Are you sure?”

Yoongi’s always been into manhandling you and being rough but only when it’s pleasurable for you. He’d usually go down on you or work you towards an orgasm using just his fingers, in hopes it’d have you ready to take him.

So, no, he’s not used to just jumping in and fucking you.

You quickly nod your head. “Never been more sure.”

He stares at you for a moment longer but the sincerity in your eyes is prominent. He then simply spreads your folds with his sticky fingers, smearing your arousal all over your sex before pulling his fingers out of your pussy, the sounds leaving your sex almost embarrassing you.

He slides his hand out of your panties and glances at his hand, eyes scanning his fingers coated in your pussy slick.

“Fuck, look at that,” he whispers but doesn’t even grant you the time to look when he immediately shoves his fingers into his mouth, sucking all your arousal off his digits.

“Yoongi,” you whine, clenching around nothing as you watch him.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunts as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. “It’s been too long. I’m gonna need to eat that.”

You want to protest but he’s already pulling you toward him by your thighs, settling in between them as he’s now face to face with your slick-covered panties.

“I want to be fucked,” you whine, staring down at him between your legs but his eyes are just focused on your panties.

He replies, “And I want to fucking eat you out so you’re gonna have to be patient, you little brat.”

You don’t have the time to whine any more when he pushes your panties to the side and the single action could have you coming undone, right here, right now.

He idly stares at your glistening pussy like he’s Monkey D. fucking Luffy and he found the One Piece after years of venturing the seas.

“Why are you staring like that?” you quietly ask, unfortunately not possessing enough strength to close your thighs out of self-consciousness.

With a simple shake of his head, his face closes in on your sex and he licks a long stripe up your pussy, collecting a great amount of your arousal in a single swipe of his hungry tongue.

But you’re oozing so much wetness that he simply keeps going, licking all around your sex before focusing on your swollen, angry clit. He wraps his lips around your sensitive pleasure nub and starts sucking, coating his entire chin in your juices.

“Fuck!” you cry, reaching over to pull on his roots, fingers tangled in his soft black locks.

The sensitivity you’re experiencing is too much. “I’m gonna fucking cum, Yoongi.” You’re not even joking.

“Already?” he hums in mockery before wrapping his lips around your clit again and sucks some more with no regard of overstimulating you.

You quickly nod your head and within the next few seconds, you’re cumming all over his tongue and around his mouth. A cry rips through your throat and you’re sobbing at this point, pulling so hard on his roots that it causes him to hiss in pain.

Grinding your hips up into his face, into his nose, into his mouth. You can’t believe how quickly that stupid pink pill has you levitating off the bed, it’s like you don’t even belong on Earth anymore.

The orgasm hits you like none ever before, leaving you even more sensitive. You came within barely, what? A minute of stimulation? Two? Oh, you’re so done for.

You push against Yoongi’s head in hopes he’ll stop and he does—after giving your swollen clit one last slurp.

“Holy shit.” You can’t believe that just happened.

“That was really fast. What was that? A minute? A minute and 30 seconds?” he laughs as he sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It’s that fucking pill,” you mumble defensively, trying to catch your breath.

A low chuckle leaves his mouth before he glances down at the bulge in his boxers. “Well,” he pauses, “you should take that pill more often.”

You roll your eyes with all the brattiness you can muster, hoping it annoys him as much as he annoys you. “This is the last time I’m even letting you in here, I hope you know that.”

His eyes shift back up to yours and he tilts his head to the side in question, blinking at you with a glimmer in his eyes that you can’t quite describe.

You stare back, trying your best not to look fucked out right now but you know you’re failing horribly at it when he simply shakes his head and lets out a bitter chuckle.

“You just wanted to use me one last time, hm?” he scoffs as his fingers tuck under the hem of his boxers, sliding them down his thighs and tossing them off the bed.

A surge of guilt spreads through your chest when you realize how that must’ve sounded to him. “You know that’s not what I meant, Yoongi.”

“No?” he muses, placing his hands on the back of your thighs before pushing them all the way against the mattress on each side of your body. You know your body isn’t supposed to be able to do this, apparent by the strain in your inner thighs but for some reason, it doesn’t bother you as much.

“No,” you whimper as he uses his own weight to keep your thighs spread, sliding his rock hard dick in between your folds handsfree, but not entering you just yet. It has you squeezing your eyelids shut, trying to focus on the feeling of his rock hard cock—all the ridges and veins on his dick—rubbing so good against your swollen clit.

“I don’t believe you,” he says, watching as you squirm from the slightest bit of friction that he has full control over. It makes you want to smack that grin right off his face.

“I swear,” you sniff, not even being able to thrust your hips up for more friction because Yoongi’s weight and strength keeps you restrained.

He simply hums in response, continuing to slide his dick over your slit, completely coating his shaft in your slick. “If you want me to believe you,” he pauses as his eyes shift up to yours, “you’re going to have to beg and convince me. Tell me how what you just said isn’t true.”

“Please,” you say, no hesitation. “Please, I didn’t mean that. I–just fuck me. I swear I don’t want anyone else to be in your position right now, I only want you. No one else knows me like you, no one.”

He continues to simply watch your face twist in borderline agony from the lack of friction, the sensation you so desperately crave.

“That so?” His tone is filled with so much arrogance that it makes your veins burn with lava.

You merely hum in response and finally crack your eyelids open, just to see him staring into your eyes with that familiar glint in his. Fuck.

“Ready?” he whispers, lining his tip up with your hole and cockily chuckles when you eagerly nod your head.

He abruptly freezes. “Ah, fuck, wait.” His dick is not on your slit anymore and it makes you frown at him.

“What?”

He groans, “I have no condoms.”

For fuck’s sake.

“I mean,” you start, “you’re the last person I had sex with. Did you have sex with anyone after me?”

You’re not sure you even want to hear about it but in this moment you’d do anything to just have him finally fuck the shit out of you.

He avoids your gaze as he keeps it glued to his dick sliding up and down your slit. “I have.”

Oh.

“But it was protected, always,” he adds with a quickness, tone calculated and quiet.

Oh.

Okay.

That’s good but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

You have to swallow your emotions at this moment because your pussy is basically screaming at you to just swallow your pride. “Okay, then just do it without.”

He peers up at you through his thick brows with a frown. “Are you sure?”

You mumble, “For fuck’s sake.” Your hand quickly reaches for his shaft but he slaps it away just as quickly.

“I know you’re horny as fuck but I need you to be 100%,” he pauses when he sees you glaring at his dick. “Look at me, dammit.”

Your eyes shift to his and you childishly groan. “Yes, Yoongi, I 100% consent to letting you fuck me raw. Now, will you please just–”

He doesn’t even let you finish talking as he slides his dick right into you, bottoming out completely. You yelp at the intrusion, your slick walls stretching around his shaft so well, like it always has.

“Holy shit,” he whispers with closed eyes, the disgusting squelching coming from your sexes is proof of your arousal and the moans falling from his lips as your pussy tightly hugs him sounds like a choir of angels sustaining a high C.

You try to keep quiet, you try not to squirm, you try not to say the craziest things right now. Like ‘I love you’, or ‘I’ve missed you so much’ because you’re just horny and dumb.

“Move,” you whimper, needing more than he’s giving you right now. He hears you loud and clear, sliding out of you and right back in. The disgusting squelching reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to care at the moment, not when Yoongi finds it hot and throws in occasional ‘fuck, listen to that’s and ‘you’re so fucking wet’s.

You cuss, eyes rolling to the back of your head when your sensitivity reaches its peak. A few more thrusts will already have you cumming, you’re sure of it.

He continues to thrust, slowly starting to pick up his pace and he finally cracks his eyelids open. His eyes find yours as he stares at you—scanning your pretty face that he loves to look at—especially when it’s twisted in pleasure like that.

Brows furrowed, lips swollen, pupils dilated, mouth agape, a thin layer of sweat draped over your forehead and building up in your hairline.

Somewhere along the line, the eye contact becomes too intense for you. Your hand snakes around the back of his head, closing the distances between you two by pulling him closer to you, licking and sucking on the honey tinted skin of his neck.

After a while of sucking and nipping at his neck and his thrusts never coming to a halt, your orgasm starts approaching you rapidly again. “I’m gonna cum,” you cry, tears pricking in your eyes from the pure pleasure that’s setting all your insides ablaze.

“Already?” he murmurs as he leans down, kissing away the tears that have subtly started rolling down your temples. “But I have yet to ruin you.”

Fuck.

“Whatever, though. I guess you’re just going to lose count of the amount of orgasms I’ll fuck you through.” He states it so nonchalantly because he knows only he could ever make you feel like this, make you desperate like this, make you a needy mess like this.

His hips continue to harshly snap into yours, the indescribable sensation of being fucked at this angle and pace has your thighs clenching. Unsurprisingly not long after, your orgasm hits you full force once again.

A sob rips through your throat, your trembling hands grab at his shoulders, nails painfully digging into his skin as he fucks you through your high. His low chuckle rings in your ear, breath hitting your throat as he lowers his face into the crook of your neck.

“Cumming all over my dick and sucking marks on my neck. Are you trying to claim me again?” he whispers, knowing how possessiveness was big a turn on for the both of you back in your relationship.

You simply cry under him, the orgasm lasting longer than any you’ve ever had before. His dick kisses your cervix repeatedly, your breasts bounce continuously from the momentum of his thrusts and the sound of his skin slapping yours only increases in volume the longer he fucks you.

“I asked you something,” he says, lifting his head off your shoulder to stare down at you. “Where’d that bratty mouth that I love so much go?”

You simply grunt in response, teary eyes glaring at him as you slowly come down from your high. The corners of his lips curl up in a twisted smirk at the sight in front of him, you know he enjoys seeing you in this state and him being the sole cause of it pleases him greatly.

The overstimulation is starting to catch up to you. Your hand basically moves on its own, pressing flat into his lower abdomen in order to get him to slow down.

However, it means nothing to him. He simply continues to thrust into you like he’s got something to prove. “Answer me, Y/N. Do you want to claim me again?” he repeats.

You mewl, sinking your cranium further into your soft pillows, exposing more of your throat and neck to him as tears continue to pour out of your eyes.

“Fuck you,” you whimper, digging your nails into the skin around his belly button but it doesn’t elicit a single reaction from him.

He simply chuckles at your snarky comment as he lowers his lips onto your throat, sucking and nipping at it. You know he expected you to say that. No one else knows you like the back of their hand like he does.

“There’s my girl,” he mumbles against your skin. His words paired with the simple act of kissing your neck has all your insides clenching and twisting with something you can’t quite describe.

Butterflies?

Something you’re not going to admit out loud.

“I don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, though.” With one more thrust, he pulls out of you and harshly flips you onto your stomach. You don’t even have the time to react when he gently grabs your hips yet roughly hoists your ass up off the mattress.

A sharp sting spreads through your asscheek and that’s when you realize his rough hand came down on your bum, spanking you hard.

“Ow!” you screech in pain yet pleasure, every vein in your body pumping blood faster and faster as you anticipate exactly why, of all people, you called Yoongi over.

He doesn’t even give you the time to come down from that spanking before he gives you another one. And another one. And another one.

“You ask me to come over after not talking to me for months, then beg me to fuck you. I give you what you want and you still have the audacity to be so rude to me?” He clicks his tongue loudly and immediately after the scolding, spanks you yet again. “Biting the hand that feeds you. Tsk. I should cum in that filthy mouth of yours for talking to me like this.”

He shoves his dick back inside without a warning and continues to assault your poor asscheeks, rough palms continuously coming down to your ass in loud smacks.

You hoarsely cry out under him, most likely from the embarrassment because thanks to that damn pill you might cum from just being spanked at this point.

As if he heard your thoughts, the spanking comes to an end and his hands are now flat on your back, keeping you pressed into the mattress with his weight while he starts fucking into you again. “You like getting fucked from the back, right?”

Your ass bounces back against his hips with each thrust, adding more and more sensations to your body. You’re not going to last for very much longer.

He mumbles, “No, that’s not it.” He leans forwards, pressing his chest into your back, lips grazing the shell of your ear and he places his hands against the mattress on each side of your waist, supporting his own weight. “You just love being fucked like a slut.”

Fuck.

“Isn’t that right? You don’t care in what position you get fucked in, as long as you’re getting fucked, hm? Like the horny slut you are.” He remembers exactly what you like and it’s embarrassing. “My slut, though. No one else’s.”

And you admit that yes, you wouldn't just want any stranger to talk to you like this.

It only works with Yoongi because he knows you. Because he understands you. Because he loves you.

Or he did once, at least.

But him showing up at your front door, no questions asked, 10 minutes after you asked him to, might be proof of something you both are trying to deny. Not like it matters.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you moan. You’ve already lost count but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s fucking you so good.

“Cumming so quickly from just being talked to like this. I bet you’ve missed my filthy mouth just as much as I missed yours,” he whispers into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin in a way only a lover should. “I fucking love it.”

The soft kissing and the low volume of his voice are a stark contrast to the rough pounding of his hips and the degrading words leaving his lips.

And you can’t help but love it.

“Tell me I’m right,” he demands as he picks up the pace, snaking one hand around to wrap around your throat and pull you up until the back of your head collides with his shoulder. “Tell me it’s true.”

Now with your orgasm approaching, he knows you’d do anything to get there.

He knows you too well.

“Fuck, I love it!” you cry as your nth orgasm washes over you, your body violently jerking under him from the overstimulation you’re experiencing.

“I know you do,” he chuckles as he fucks you through your orgasm. “That’s my girl. My fuckin’ girl.”

Fuck.

He has no idea what those words do to you.

Well, it’s Yoongi. He definitely knows what it’s doing to you.

Because you are not his girl. Not anymore.

But you don’t have the energy to correct him nor do you want to. Because at this moment, it feels like the two of you never separated. Like you never spent a day apart. All of the nostalgia, love and hate comes rushing back to you. Surely it’s that stupid pink pill’s fault.

He pulls out in a swift motion and turns you onto your side before he lies down behind you on his side as well, chest pressed into your back as he pulls you closer.

Fuck, how many positions is he going to fuck you in? Is he making up for all the time you spent apart?

Now that you’re in spooning position, he gently places his hand under your thigh and lifts it up to spread your legs. His hand leaves your thigh as he uses the same hand to guide his dick to your pussy again.

Your thigh almost wants to give out and drop, your chest still dramatically rising and falling as you chase your breath.

Another cocky chuckle rumbles in his chest at how you struggle to even move now, his hot breath draping over your neck and his hand returning to the same spot on your inner thigh as he lifts your leg again and pushes into you.

Your head falls back, falling deeper into his embrace and he welcomes that by pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. “I don’t know how I survived all those months without y–” he pauses, “your pussy.”

Hmph. He’s the pussy if he doesn’t want to admit he misses you.

But then again, he was never that type. Yoongi was never the type to show his love through words but rather through actions and services, he had difficulties expressing his affection with words.

Like when it took him a year to say ‘I love you’ yet everyday after he came home from an exhausting day at work, he’d pull your feet into his lap and massage them in hopes of offering you some kind of relief.

Or when the topic of wedding vows came up and he said he finds them useless yet he’d buy you a fresh set of bouquets every week until down to the very week you broke up.

Or when he’d place a glass of water on your nightstand everyday when he left for work, whether he fucked the shit out of you the night before or not.

Yoongi always just showed you.

And now that he’s balls deep in your pussy, now that the effects of that pill are clouding your mind, now that his proximity is distorting your mind and setting all your nerve-endings alight again, you have to consciously stop yourself from asking him to come back home—back to you.

Your mind is so distorted that you don’t even recall the bad moments or the reason for your break up right now. You just miss him.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers in your ear, thrusting his hips into you at a considerably slower pace but by no means lacking in strength and passion.

“Like I’m fucking floating on a cloud,” you mumble back, body almost falling limp at his proximity and his dick rubbing your walls so deliciously.

He simply chuckles, “That’s what I like to hear.”

He continues to fuck into you, occasionally groaning and fondling your breast. “Fuck,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck.

“Yoongi, I–”

“I know.”

You don’t even know.

You don’t even know what you were going to say.

But his confident ‘I know’ proves to you that he knows.

Thanks to his slow pace, it takes your orgasm a little longer to approach and thank fuck for that.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” he tells you, rubbing your tummy from the back. “Where do you want it?”

“I don’t care where you cum as long as you kiss me during it.”

Damn. Why the fuck would you say that?

Great. He just abruptly stopped thrusting. You’re such a fucking idiot.

You would have never been able to admit this if you didn’t take that stupid pill or even if you weren’t facing him with your back.

He swiftly pulls out and wraps his fingers around your bicep to turn you around, making you face him now. Still in spooning position but this time facing each other, he pulls you close, lifting your leg onto his hip as he guides his dick back into you and propping your head up on his bicep.

His hand finds its way back to your asscheek and squeezes the soft skin in his rough hand as he pulls you even closer, pressing your chest right into his.

“Cum with me, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He’s so mean for doing this. So mean for the things he says, so mean for fucking you exactly as you like it, so mean for making you feel like you still belong to him. Like he belongs to you.

He thrusts his hips into you faster and sure enough, the effects of the pill get to work because your stomach starts twisting from the inside immediately after the change of pace and his request of cumming together.

Your fucked out eyes meet his determined ones, staring into those black bottomless pits of his as he chases his own release.

He simply stares back, eyes occasionally dropping to your lips. In this moment, his eyes are everywhere you look, his breath hits every inch of your skin, his hand on your hip holds you so tightly that you think be might crack your hipbone. He’s inside your head. He’s everywhere. He’s everything.

It seems like he wants to say something but his attention gets disrupted by the sound of something buzzing on the nightstand behind you.

It’s his phone.

He tears his eyes away from yours, reaching for it whilst still being inside of you and by the guilty look on his face, it doesn’t take a genius to decipher it must be someone whose arms and bed he found comfort in after separating from you.

When he thinks you must’ve realized, he tosses his phone off the bed and returns his attention to you.

But he doesn’t owe you anything. Not an explanation. Not an apology. Not even love.

It’s quiet for a few moments, just your occasional soft moaning and his heavy breathing as you close your eyes to avoid his gaze.

Until you crack your eyelids open again and find out he’s been staring at you the entire time. Your walls tightly clench around him again, indicating your orgasm is close. “Just call me your girl again,” you whisper, allowing the vulnerability to escape your system once again.

Dumb bitch.

“You are. You are my girl,” is all he says before pressing his lips against yours as promised, grabbing a handful of your asscheek as he snaps his hips into yours and forces his tongue into your mouth.

You let his tongue force itself past your swollen lips, crying into his mouth as another orgasm sends electricity down all your limbs, making your brain explode with ridiculous amounts of dopamine and launching you straight to your Utopia.

You murmur some shit into his mouth that even you don’t understand, voice coming and going whenever it pleases, more and more slick gushing out of your completely drenched pussy. Tears continue to escape and roll down your temples, your nose is runny, your voice is hoarse.

A soft moan resounds in Yoongi’s throat when his own orgasm hits him, thrusts getting inconsistent and rough as he starts painting your walls with his warm cum, groaning loudly into your mouth which you happily welcome.

This is otherworldly.

Nothing will ever feel like this moment right here and you’re not sure whether you’ve accepted that yet.

He fucks both of you through your orgasms, pumping his load into you like it belongs inside of you and fuck, have you missed the feeling.

With a few more sloppy thrusts, creating a mess everywhere, his thrusting comes to a halt yet he never stops kissing you.

He curls his arm so your head shifts on his bicep even closer towards his face, keeping his dick buried in you, eliciting a simple sigh in content from the ex-girlfriend in his arms.

After an extra few minutes of nonstop making out with a man that was once yours, you’re the one that pulls away. Your stomach clenches with something you can’t describe when you watch him still chase your lips until he realizes you’ve pulled away, making him slowly open his eyes.

Is it guilt? Is it desire? Is it regret?

Fuck. Fuck. This whole idea just wasn’t smart.

You did your best to rid yourself of the stain he planted on you, closing the mark where he sunk his fangs so deeply into your skin, into your soul. You’re letting him reopen it and you’re so damn fucking stupid for it.

And you don’t understand why he’s the only one you want. No one else.

He stares at you for a moment before pressing his forehead against yours, still trying to catch his breath.

You stay unmoved for a few more moments before he delicately pecks your lips again and gently pulls his softening dick out of you, your nose scrunching when his load starts to leak out of you and onto your sheets.

He doesn’t say much else as he gets up from your bed, eyes searching the floor for something before he hunches over and slides his boxers back up his legs.

He leaves your bedroom without another word, making you simply frown at the ceiling but he quickly reappears with a glass of water and a damp towel.

He hasn’t changed a bit.

He takes care of you like nothing’s changed, cleaning your body up, changing the sheets while you don’t move a muscle, tucking you under the fresh covers and making sure you drink your water before opening the windows in an attempt to get some fresh air after you’ve fogged up the windows in the room.

He sits at the edge of your bed, gently tracing your hairline with the tip of his finger. “How are you feeling?”

If only he knew.

Your mouth slightly curls at the corners, a lazy smile plastered on your lips. “I feel amazing.”

Another sultry chuckle leaves his mouth as he nods his head in agreement.

This is nice.

But your mind changes when you silently watch him rising to his feet and slowly reaching for his clothes.

Ugh.

You’ve been vulnerable enough.

You asked him to come do one thing and he did it. You can’t ask much more of him.

But your heart works faster than your brain.

“Can you stay the night?” you quietly ask, fidgeting with your fingers under the sheets, relieved that he can’t see.

He glances at you over his shoulder, a frown on his brows. It seems like he thinks about it for a moment before parting pretty his lips to say, “What?”

Fuck.

Your voice goes even quieter, thinking of a way to reformulate the question. “Do you want to stay the night?”

He idly blinks at you, eyes staring straight into your soul as if you just asked him the most absurd question that you could’ve asked him. “Do you want me to?”

The neutral tone of his voice simply makes you shrug your shoulders in response, avoiding his intense gaze that always makes you feel like no one else exists in his mind but you.

Stupid.

“Y/N,” says Yoongi, quietly. Your eyes twinkle up at him, the clear look of a dilemma plastered on your face. He closes the distance between you two, hovering over your body before repeating his question with a bit more bluntness. “Do you want me to?”

Your swollen bottom lip is trapped between your teeth, veins pumping with anxiety and anticipation.

You sniffle a bit in hopes that it makes the tension and silence less awkward. “Yeah.”

Your eyes trail his features, remembering how gorgeous he actually is. How could you ever forget? His thick brows, his sharp eyes, his plump lips, his soft nose, his beautiful hair.

The next few words that leave his mouth rip you right out of your thoughts.

“Then I’ll stay,” he pauses, “for however long you want me to.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

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[chanandlersstuff]

Bubble and Moose.

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Reader.

Summary: The timeline of how Hayden gradually fell in love with her until he was madly in love, to the point of no returning.

Word count: 8.124

Warnings: Not much actually, age-gap and a slow burn. If you squint, there's a "steamy" part.

Author’s note: Hello again, thanks for the paitence. My life has been a little ecthic lately and I'm sorry this took this long. There's still a second part to this part and a final part. With that being said, hope you like it and have a nice day.

gif credit @hayden-christensen

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May 2020, definitely not a coworker's relationship.

After their birthday gifts were exchanged an invisible barrier seemed to be taken down, they started to talk more frequently, it didn’t matter who called who, the other answered right away. 

In the beginning, it started with her brainstorming with him about Anakin’s journey to Darth Vader because according to her, who better to tell me what seemed right than the guy you portrayed him?, but he certainly didn’t mind if he got to listen to her rambling sweet voice asking and answering herself in seconds. In the process, they leant a little in their favourite episodes of The Clone Wars Series and it was funny seeing two grown-ups discussing over Facetime a child series but they had fun and spent days. 

At some point, the brainstorming stepped into the background and movies, plays, books, series, and all kinds of things started to be recommended. His favourite moments of those facetimes were when she got passionate about what she would have done in the movies they saw, when she did all that technical talk and her face lit up, started gesticulating more and talked quickly, sometimes too quickly for his fascinated-by-her brain to comprehend. Fascinated in professional terms, not at all in the sentimental.

If someone had been looking at him while he looked at her, they could have witnessed the soft smile on his lips, how slowly he blinked and how attentive he listened to every word that left her mouth as if she was telling him the answer to cure world hunger. 

But it was just the two of them talking for hours by a phone screen, while in reality, they were dying to be next to the other on the sofa talking face to face, close enough to touch but without really doing it for fear of being too much.

It was a normal day, which meant that their breakfast routine remained but with the little twist of being in quarantine. Her phone was resting on something and he, from his sofa with the cup she gifted him in hand, had a clear view of her moving around her kitchen making coffee and pancakes. It was intimate, so intimate that it overwhelmed him a little but at the same time made him happy. 

“How’s Canada?” She was mixing her ingredients.

It took him a few seconds to answer, too distracted by the flour in her cheek and the need to pass the screen to wipe it himself. “I wouldn’t know,” He took a sip of his tea “I'm not there.”

She looked at him frowning, and the mixing stopped. “What? I thought you were quarantined in your house.” He shook his head. “If I didn’t know you, I would think that you were one of those people acting as if all this mess is a sick joke.”

He laughed at her irritated face. How can I take that face seriously when it’s too damn cute and, on top of it, has flour on it? “I would never, you know that.”

“I know, that’s why I said If I didn’t know you.” Add ‘duh’ to the phrase and she was calling him dumb. “Are you paying attention to me, Starboy?” She asked with her hand on her waist, like a mom when she was mad at something.

Yes, I can only focus on you when you are present and even when you are not, you are the only thing I can think about. “Yes, Little Miss, so drop that tone.” He was about to take a sip of tea but smiled, and giggled when he saw her rolling his eyes at him. “Don’t do that either.” And just to infuriate him, she rolled them more exaggeratedly. It’s too early in the morning to go to that place, Hayden, so don’t do it. Plus you would not be able to come back. Keep it professional. Quickly, he changed the subject. “I'm here in LA.”

The bowl almost fell from her hands and her mouth was opened in surprise. “You’ve been here this whole time?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Bri and her mom live here so I’m staying here to be with her and not see her over a screen. It’s tedious.” It’s tedious seeing you over a screen too, but it would be more tedious to not see you at all.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” She nodded while pouring the mix into the pan. “But that’s sweet of you. You are a great dad, Hayden.” It came to his notice that she said his name only in important/serious matters and when she wanted him to know she was telling the truth.

And oh how he loved it when his name rolled out her lips, how he would like to hear it in the most unprofessional, not pg-13, scenarios and tones. Drop it, Hayden.

Mid May 2020, clearing doubts and new beginnings.

He was alone in his house, Briar was with her mom and although he tried to read, watch a series and even designed something for his patio, nothing could take his mind out of her. She plagued his mind more frequently at that point and the last time they Facetimed was a couple of days ago.

Fuck it. He was calling her. Her contact name was ‘Little Miss’ staring back at him, no picture. It rang for a few and when he was about to hang up her face came up. 

She was looking at the side, her profile in clear view. Airpods, messy hair falling into her face, eyebrows frowned, mouth a little agape and his eyes got lost in how she licked her lips before talking. What would they taste like? Was she talking to him? Was she talking with someone else? Was he interrupting? Was she with someone else? 

“Hey.” Her tone was cheerful. “How are you?”

“Good, good.” He nodded, still with his eyes locked on her lips. “You?” She was looking at something away from her phone, making funny faces. “I called at a bad time? I can call you later.”

This time she looked at him with a tiny smile on her lips. “Not that your calls bother me at any time,” he smiled at her words. “but can I call you in twenty?”

With the smile you are giving me, how can I ever deny you? “Yeah, of course. Take your time.” He nodded with a smile on his lips

“Thank you, I’ll call you right back.” She blew him a kiss and hung up before he could even react.

Was that a kiss or I’m hallucinating? Her lips looked more beautiful than normal or it was just that I hadn’t seen her in person for such a long time? He went to the kitchen to get something to drink and watch the sky to clear his mind because all that he thought about were those lips.

Time seemed to fly while he admired the sky, from the outside, but in reality, he was comparing the feeling of her lips to the sensation of touching clouds. Both foreign to and, yet, Hayden could bet all the money in his bank account that they were soft, heavenly-like, addictive and like nothing he had ever experienced in all his years of living. Not very professional of you, Hayden, thinking about your coworker’s lips.

The sound of his phone ringing brought him back to the real world and with a smile he answered. “Hello.” 

“Hi.” Her hair was still messy but with no frown. He tried to not look at her lips to be able to focus on her. “Sorry about earlier.”

An apologetic smile appeared on her lips but he shook his head. “Not at all, you were occupied?”

“Yeah,” she lifted her shoulders in a nonchalant gesture, “the kids arrived like two seconds before you called so they were all over the place.” While she was moving around the place, he caught a few glimpses here and there about her house.

“Kids?” He had one eyebrow raised and his head tilted to the side. 

“Yeah.” A smile appeared on her lips. “Not mine but something like that.” Okay, that confused him as hell and she seemed to notice it. “My niece and nephew.” 

He nodded remembering. “I’m sorry, I assume you had kids and-

He was quick to apologise but it was her turn to shake her head. Laughing. “It’s okay, Hayden.” Hearing his name coming from her lips made him smile widely. “I talk about them as if they were mine, so the confusion is expected.”

He looked unsure but she smiled at him. “So they stay with you?” She was looking up from the screen from time to time.

“Yeah, my sister and brother-in-law are doctors,” he listened attentively to her words, cheering for her trust in him “So, the kids stay with me to be safe.” and nodded. “Besides I’m the fun cool single aunt with a big house that lets them get a little wild from time to time.” She laughed at her own words.

And he did too, tilting his head back. His Adam's apple was bobbing up and down in full display for her to see. When he looked back at her, he caught her just in time licking her lips and her eyes a little lost. What’s she looking at? Lost something? Her cheeks have always been that red or has it happened now? The thoughts started clouding him so he cleared his throat and her eyes travelled back to his. “It’s nice that you are taking care of them.”

“Huh?” He smirked, she giggled and he did too. The laughter of one made the other laugh harder as if they were little kids again. Five minutes passed before it died down and it wasn’t even that funny. “Oh God.” She cleared a tear from the corner of her eyes, while he chuckled. “What did you say?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “That is nice what you are doing.”

She smiled at his words. “They are the closest I have to my own kids, it’s not like I’m adopting orphans or donating piles of money to the health of my country.” In the last part, she gave him a knowing look and before he could say something she kept talking. “It’s the least I can do while their parents are saving people and risking their lives.” He nodded understandingly.

They kept talking for a little while until she had to hang up, but this time there was no kiss blown in his direction. Which made him a little sad, if he was honest. Why would you? You two are nothing except coworkers.

A few weeks passed when they didn’t Facetime as much as before because he didn’t want to interrupt her time with the kids, he knew how handful one kid was, let alone two. Plus he was trying to keep his emotions at bay, they were starting to get wild and he couldn't let that happen. But, they texted frequently, small things here and there to stay in touch, although he preferred a thousand times more seeing her face. A little contradictory, don’t you think Hayden?

He and Briar were cooking together, more like the little girl was sitting on the island while he did all the work when Facetime came in. "How hard can it be to build a kid's playground?" Her desperate voice reached his ears, making him laugh.

"Hello to you too." He teased her.

"Hi." It came all muffled by the groan that left her lips. 

His eyes found Briar's, who was giggling, and he did it too. "Now, tell me. What are you building?"

She exhaled loudly while he kept making lunch. "I bought a small kind of playground or something like that." He nodded, a little confused. "Thinking it couldn't be that hard to put together and surprise! IT IS." The pair, father and daughter, laughed again. She lifted her head from the papers in her hands for the first time and looked at him with a frown on her forehead. "Am I interrupting something?" 

He shook his head and Briar, with the curious nature of a five-year-old, moved her head to see his phone. "Hello." 

"Oh hi!" She looked surprised but with a smile on her face.

"I'm Briar Rose, and you?" The little girl introduced herself and she did too, still with a smile on her lips and a cheerful tone. "Where are you friends with my daddy?" She asked innocently. "Briar Rose!" Hayden said in his dad's tone.

But she laughed, a genuine laugh. Not like the ones he heard her give when she was nervous or uncomfortable, so he relaxed. "From work, we are working together." See?! COWORKERS! She said it herself.

The little girl nodded. "Bri, you helped me choose a present for her a few months ago, remember?" She seemed to think about it and then nodded.

"Oh, you helped him?" Briar nodded eagerly and she smiled. "I loved the flowers, they were so pretty. Thank you." She bowed her head and the little girl blushed a little.

He couldn't see her face directly, because Bri's head was in the way while she got comfortable in front of the phone, making him smile. "Really?" 

"Yeah." Just by her tone, he could see her, in his brain, smiling. "I put them on a desk in the centre of my office so everyone could see them." Those little blue eyes opened wide in surprise "Every person that entered my office that day, loved them. You picked right." and a big happy smile appeared on her face.

Hayden saw how closely Briar was looking at her, how she tilted her head to the side from time to time while they talked. "Why are you building a playground?" He looked at them from the corner of his eyes.

"My niece and nephew, Brianna and Daniel, are 6 and staying still is not their thing." He laughed, picturing himself as a little boy and understood what she was saying. "The other day they told me they missed the park."

"I missed it too, but Daddy has a swing on the patio for me," Briar told her and she opened her eyes in surprise, following along. "So I don't miss it that much."

"Well, I had a similar thinking to your Daddy's" What? Come again? "and since I cannot watch them being sad, I bought a small playground for our patio." The little girl nodded.

"In a cool, fun aunt way." He added. 

"Exactly." She laughed and the little girl did it too. "Besides, I don't want Daniel jumping out the balcony ‘cause he's bored out of his mind.” He raised his eyebrows. “I swear to you, that kid is wild.”

They laughed, the three of them. "So you bought a playground for them?" Hayden asked in disbelief.

"Kind of?" She sounded unsure and Briar laughed.

He looked at the two of them with a smile on his lips. "Do you even have the tools to set it up?"

They looked at each other and she had that irritated face that he found so cute, so endearing. A big smile appeared on his lips, unwittingly, naturally. "I'm not silly, I bought everything at once."

"Of course you did." He said under his breath found it funny. You and your like for order.  

She nodded, putting a wild strand of hair behind her ear. "In my defence," she held her finger up and he raised an eyebrow, ready to hear her excuse "It seemed like a great idea." She sounded so sure, so convinced.

"How?!" He was frowning, his deep tone a little higher than normal.

She got comfortable behind the screen and they did too, their lunch almost ready. "I ordered it the next day they told me that, and with the protocols and everything, it arrived a day after they left, which is today." They nodded. "I thought of building it myself so when they came back, in like a week give or take, they would be surprised." 

"That's nice," Briar said.

"I know. Thank you, Briar." She winked at the little girl and she tried to mimic but failed, making the two adults laugh. "But I didn't think it was that hard to build it!”

The little girl giggled, making her father, and her, laugh. “It didn't come with instructions?” 

“Yes.” She shook the papers in her hand for him to see. “and I saw a few YouTube tutorials but it's not as easy as it seems.” They laughed again. “So I was this close” she put her pointer finger and thumb a little close to measuring “to a mental breakdown when a lightbulb went on in my head so I said ‘Hey, I have a friend” Friend?! That’s an improvement from coworkers. “who's really into design and architecture and has a beautiful daughter” she winked at Briar, making her giggle “so he would know how to help me’ and that’s how we are here.” She finished with a big smile on her lips and batted her eyelashes as if that was necessary for him to help her.

The little girl looked at him with a smile, fully engrossed with all that was happening. “What do you say, Bri, should we help her?” He looked around, thinking, tapping his chin with his finger, acting as if he was weighing his options, but his beloved daughter tugged his shirt, impatient. “Yeah, daddy, help her.” Hayden looked at her, at that smile on her lips, then at Briar who was mimicking the face she had moments ago. “Okay, we will help her.”

They both celebrated, even high-five through the screen, and he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his lips, the warm feeling that ran through his body and the hope. Hope? Hope of what? Keep it professional Hayden. 

After she sent them photos of the instructions, at his request, they had lunch, over Facetime, while he looked at everything from his tablet and they, Briar Rose and she, chatted. Scratch that, Bri did all the talking while she listened closely. 

She told her about her classes, about his dad’s farm and all the animals, asked about her niece and nephew, and all kinds of topics they did. All that, while Hayden half listened to them, looked at them interact with a smile on his lips, and half daydreamed, but never once reading at the papers in his tablet, always acting as if he was. 

Stop it, Hayden, you are working together. You already went down that road and the only good thing that came out of it’s Briar, so don’t even think about it.

"Isn't that right, daddy?" Briar was looking at him but he frowned, a little lost. “She looks like Bubble.”

“As in The Powerpuff Girls?” But the little girl shook his head.

The brunette was thinking of any recent character his daughter saw that could resemble her. She was wearing a green flannel shirt, too big for her, that matched her skin tone, her hair held up messily, making it seem like she had a pixie cut and lighter, by the light that was hitting on it, and glasses, he noticed she was wearing them more frequently. I like how they look at you. Really? Not very professional of you.

“Bubble like the fairies movies, Daddy. The one we watched the other day, remember?” He was really trying to remember what movie she was talking about because they watched too many. 

But she seemed to realise what she was talking about. “Tinkerbell?” Briar nodded eagerly.

“The one with big glasses, wearing green, that's always building something and it's funny." She explained. "Bubble!"

If he remembered correctly it was a male fairy and his name wasn't Bubble. "Oh, the one that was in love with Tinkerbell?" Briar nodded again. "Bobble.”

"Bubble." The little girl corrected, but even though it was wrong, she nodded.

Haydey found it extremely cute, and funny, the resemblance his daughter found in her. A little magical, mythical, figure a little bit clumsy, extremely passionate about his work and art. Briar Rose wasn't that far from reality, they were similar but at the same time, she was like no one he ever knew. 

"Bubble." He tasted it on his tongue and it suited her just fine. 

She laughed, shaking her head "I'll take it" and arranged her glasses. "But, if I'm Bubble, you, my friend" Again with it. she pointed at him "Are going to be Moose." A smug smile appeared on her lips, his little girl laughed and he did too, amazed at the name.

"Moose?" He asked in disbelief.

She nodded. "You are Canadian and tall as a door. It suits you just fine."

"Fair enough, Bubble." She smiled, proud, with her chin held high. "And me?" Briar asked, not wanting to be left out, looking at both of them.

"Can I?" She mouthed, her eyes connected with his, asking for permission, and he nodded. "What you say about 'Princess'?”

Hayden knew she would love it. "Yes! I love it!" The little girl danced in her seat. They looked at each other, she was frowning but he gave her a smile, to reassure her it was alright and she nodded.

June 2020, planning dates and weird texts.

Saying their relationship was becoming something more was an understatement and that put him in a tough spot. They were more than coworkers, that much was for sure. They were friends? Probably on her part, but Hyaden had feelings he felt he should not have. Feelings? I know nothing about that. That’s very unprofessional. Feelings he would not speak about. Feelings he would deny and bury deep inside him because it was unprofessional. So, the only rational reaction he came up with was to distance himself a little, but not too much. They still talked over text and Facetime, but the last ones were from time to time, weeks in between them, not as often as they used to. 

He and Briar were watching some movie, comfortably lying on the sofa, his little girl with her feet on his lap really engrossed in the movie ‘Anastasia’. A recommendation the little girl got as soon as ‘Bubble, what movie should we watch now?’ left her lips. When she found out that her daddy’s friend made movies, she was over the moon, asking for movie recommendations left and right, almost like Hayden did on one of their facetime at the beginning. 

This was one of those times when they were texting about God knows what. Sometimes they had separate conversations while texting each other like they were having their own monologues on the same chat. 

I've never understood why people in movies used to send boxes with people inside as a gift

He frowned at the text, tilting his head to the side. 

Huh?

WHAT’S IN THE BOX?! Type or what?

The three dots appeared and seconds later the response came. 

Not that gore

But you know, like when someone jumps out of a cake

Like a surprise 

His frown deepened.

What movie are you watching?

Singing in the rain

A smile appeared on his lips. 

You have something for musicals, don’t you?

Shut up, Moose

He couldn't contain his laugh and Briar shushed him. “I’m watching the movie, daddy.” The little girl complained. 

“Sorry, sweetie.” He smiled at her, not that she paid attention to him, and looked back to his phone. 

You definitely have something with them, because I’m watching Anastasia and that’s on you

It’s a great movie, Bri is going to love it

He nodded, watching how invested his little girl was with the movie. 

She already does

And you are not even trying to deny the musical part

They are my guilty pleasure, shut up

He chuckled, tilting his head back. Who would have thought? 

So……

People jumping out of boxes/cakes are not your thing I gather

Of course not, like that's scary as hell. 

He laughed, again. 

Don't laugh

A frown emerged on his face, a little surprised.

How did you know I was laughing? 

‘Cause I know you

Those words made him smile, proud of such thing.

And people laugh when I tell them about my unusual fear

For some reason, it didn’t seem right to him that someone laughs at her fears, no matter how small or foolish they seemed. 

I promise not to laugh

Tell me about it

It was true, he wanted to know about it. About her. 

Why would someone do something like that? 

Why would someone want the birthday person to have a heart attack for the scare?

Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?

No, it’s common sense

Sure, Bubble, whatever let you sleep at night

Certainly not that idea 

Call me when that happens, we will take care of it together

The together part put a smile on his lips. In a friendly context, nothing more.

I will

To put your mind at ease, I promise to never send you those kind of things 

Thank u

He could see her with a smile on her lips, that kind, sweet, smile so characteristic of her. 

A couple of days later they were Facetiming, he called because he missed her voice but he was trying to mentally keep his distance. It was like a battle was being held inside him. I miss your voice, but saying it out loud may be too much. It may change everything and I don’t want that. I’m not prepared for that.

“Are you okay?” Her voice brought him back to reality.

The brunette nodded “Yeah, why?” with a frown on his forehead.

She shrugged, pursing her lips. “I don’t know, I-” She seemed to think about her next words and he raised his eyebrows, curious about them. “It’s gonna sound lame, but I feel like we don’t talk as much as we did before.”

The sadness Hayden saw in her eyes, even through his screen, made him heartache, but he knew she was right. That wasn’t what I wanted. No, don’t look at me like that. Please. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He was quick to apologise but she shook her head. “I have lots of things in my mind.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. It wasn’t at all my intention.” His eyes could see her manicured hand on her chest and a little frown on her eyebrows. “I meant it as, I know this whole staying-at-home thing is taking a toll on people and their mental health, so if you want to talk about it, or don’t, just know I’m here, Hayden.” The sincerity in her tone took him aback, but it shouldn’t have. 

One time, he made a fleeting comment about his mental health after finishing Star Wars in 2005, trying to make his advice more clear for her. Hayden didn’t think that she would remember it, but it seemed he was mistaken. She remembered everything that came out of his mouth. The donations to Canada, his love for architecture, an embarrassing story about his childhood, his birthday, every little detail. So why wouldn’t she remember that little comment? 

The sudden trainwreck of emotions inside him almost made him choke. “Thank you, Bubble.” There wasn’t a need for words, his eyes told her everything with how shiny they were and the smile on his lips was so soft, so sweet.

A sincere smile appeared on her lips, but she shrugged again. Taking a little off the emotion and seriousness of the moment before it became too much. “You would do the same for me.”

“Of course.” He said not missing a beat.

“So you don’t need to thank me.” She winked at him and that simple gesture made him feel lighter.

They stayed like that, talking for hours, making up for the lost time, enjoying seeing the other faces and hearing their voices. He moved from his studio to the kitchen, ready to start dinner for one, while she was still seated in her patio with her book on the same page she was when he called. 

As she watched him move around his large kitchen, she couldn't help but become entranced by his movements. The allure of his every gesture left her feeling a little lost in the moment. “What are you cooking?”

He scratched the tip of his nose with the back of his hand. “Pizza.” She giggled when she saw that the tip of his nose was full of flour. “What are you laughing at?”

“You look cute with your nose full of flour.” She said in between laughs. 

He rolled his eyes but blushed at the compliment. "Well I can't clean it right now so, focus on something else other than my handsome face." He teased her.

"It's going to be a very hard task focusing on something else." She followed his lead. "Your beauty is very distracting." Was she teasing me back? Or was she telling the truth?

"Haha, very funny, Bubble." He kept his face down, looking at what he was doing for her to not notice the blush that started creeping to his cheeks.

"I'm hilarious, I know." She moved her hair back, with a smug face. And he laughed but rolled his eyes. "Back to the pizza."

"Yeah, back to the pizza."

"You pick a few skills from Little Italy, I see." She got closer to the screen to watch what he was doing.

"First of all," he raised a finger full of flour "I was a very good pizza aficionado before the movie-"

"Show-off" She faked a cough.

He rolled his eyes again, trying not to laugh. "But, yes. I picked a few things up." He mixed the sauce.

"I wouldn't know, I have never tasted it." She had a tiny smile on her lips and her eyes had a particular shine. Or maybe it's the light from my house playing tricks with me.

"Maybe when all this pandemic is over, I can cook for you." He said looking at her, what he was doing was long forgotten, his attention solemnly on her.

The smile on her lips was breathtaking mixed with the warm light of the sun on her patio made the image burn in his brain. "I will like that very much." 

His heart was beating furiously inside his chest. "It's a date then? I'm having a heart attack, surely. There's no other explanation.

She nodded, with a tiny blush on her cheeks. "It's a date." A bright smile, teeth and all.

Well, so much for keeping it professional Hayden.

July 2020, seeing you shine. 

The night was darker than normal and more humid than usual in July. Not a sound could be heard in his house, besides the one caused by the weather. The hot summer weather was starting to bother him a little so the storm that was rising outside made him happy.

Miss Bubble

You up?

Confused as hell, he looked at the hour. What was she doing up at three in the morning? Was she alright? Something happened to her? Was she in danger? All the possible bad scenarios were occurring in his head, so he called her. 

Pick up, Bubble, pick up. Not long passed before she answered him. 

“Are you alright?” Those were the first words that left his mouth when her face came into view. 

She nodded “Yeah, you?” confused.

The brunette frowned. “Yeah. Something happened?”

“No. Why?”

“Cause you texted me at three in the morning and I thought that something had happened to you, so I got scared.” He explained. 

She closed her eyes and scrunched her nose. “Sorry about that, I truly didn’t mean to.” An apologetic smile appeared on her lips. “I appreciate you worrying about me, it’s really sweet.”

“Are you okay?” His heart was still beating furiously. 

“A little guilty but 100% fine.” She gave him a tight smile. Hearing she was right relaxed him, all the muscles in his body loosened. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nono, I was already up.” He was sitting comfortably on the couch, his feet on the little table there and resting his phone on the thigh, cigarette in the other hand. “Why are you in the dark, though?” He squinted his eyes to look at her better.

The sound of her sitting comfortably could be heard. “I love thunderstorms and being in the dark makes them more beautiful.” You are beautiful, even in the dark. “What about you?”

He smiled at her “I'm enjoying the peaceful silence and the sound of the rain.” and took a drag of his cigarette.

“I can call you back some other time, at a decent hour.” She quickly said. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

She could see him shaking his head, thanks to the warm light that was illuminating his face. “No, no. It's okay.” He reassured her with a smile. “We can enjoy this together.” Again with the ‘together’. “you, your thunderstorm and me, my silence.”

A massive thunder illuminated the sky and he saw the big smile on those lips. “I would love that.” She was smiling because of me or because of the thunder?

“Great.” He smiled, getting comfortable.

Who knows how long it passed where his gaze took turns looking at her and then at the water falling against his big window. Her doe eyes were looking in the distance, her lips curving in a smile every time a thunder made everything tremble. The light it provided made her, in his eyes, illuminated, and shine. A few times their eyes connected and a tiny smile appeared on her lips. 

Unknowing to him, she looked at him every time she felt his eyes move from the screen. Fascinated by how the cigarette smoke danced around him with the warm light that was reflecting on his face and making his hair look golden-like and his eyes had a particular shine. The artistic part of her wanted to be there, on her knees in front of him, in the angle she was from her phone, with her precious video camera in hand recording every second of him smoking that damn cigarette. 

It dangled over his large fingers, but it never quite felt, on the way to his lips. Oh, those lips. They wrapped around the filter part and he hollowed his cheeks, making his bone structure more prominent. How would it feel to trace his face with the tip of my fingers? Maybe, just maybe, to finish off killing her, he exhaled the smoke through his nose tilting his head back. How can he make something so deadly as smoking, so hot, so alluring? Her eyes traced his neck, the veins there. Where is his weak spot? Can I find it with my lips? 

Hayden felt her stare on him, how she was tilting her head from side to side the whole time he took a drag, slowly, just to tease her. When he moved his head, just a little bit to see her, he felt as if his heart stopped beating normally and started a fucking race. Her cheeks were flushed, even in the dark he could see it. Her lower lip was caged by her teeth and the need to free it made his hands itch. When he finally reached her eyes, oh those eyes, pupils dark and intense, lost in him, lost in desire.

If her eyes were dark, the blue in his was long gone too but that didn’t stop him from looking her up and down. The grip she had on the blanket around her was so tight that her knuckles were losing colour. The fine strip of her pyjama top was falling from her shoulder, leaving him free access for his eyes to trace the journey from her clavicle, to her neck to the jaw. He gulped at such a display of skin, feeling like a horny thirteen-year-old, Will I ever have the privilege to feel her skin with my lips?, like he travelled back in time and was one of those men that get horny by a glimpse of an ankle.

Their eyes finally met and it was like someone left hell and heaven gates opened. They were on Facetime but the tension, the burning sensation, around them was real. They both felt it. But at the same time, they were sure that giving in would be like touching the sky. It would be a sin I would be glad to commit.

Hayden said her name in a low and husky tone. His tone is going to be the death of me.

"Hayden," she replied, trying to keep her own voice steady, but failing miserably. Whisper my name in my ear with your soft tone. Shout it at the top of your lungs too. 

That simple gesture of saying the other’s name made the tension grow stronger. Their hearts were racing, they were heavily breathing.

He leant closer, and brought her closer, more like his phone screen, to say something. What are you going to say, Hayden? That you want to cross the line so far with her so damn much it would look like a fucking dot if you look back? That you know it’s unprofessional the feelings you have for her? That those eleven years between you two are going to be the death of you? 

She swallowed hard, ready for whatever he was going to say. Are you ready to admit that you have been dying to kiss him, tangling your fingers in his hair, since the first day you saw him? Are you going to tell him that only by looking at you he makes you weak on the knees and that you have to mentally restrain yourself to not giggle and twirl your hair?

There was only one thing that was running around in their minds. Not physical, because there were plenty of those in their heads. God, I wish you were here with me, I wish I had you right here in front of me so I could kiss you. Show you all the things I feel for you but that I’m too cowardly to tell. 

A very loud thunder broke the bubble they were wrapped in and brought them back from the tunnel they were getting themselves into. He cleared his throat and looked at the ceiling of his house, taking a deep breath, while she arranged her hair and sat straight. “Look at the time.” What, Hayden? Are you an idiot?

“Yeah, it’s-” She cleared her throat too because her voice sounded breathless “It’s getting late.”

The brunette nodded, agreeing with her. “Yeah, yeah.” Truth be told, it was like five-thirty in the morning. 

The two fools bid goodbye, saying that they would be heading to bed and that they would call some other time. But instead, they stayed sitting in their respective houses. Going over and over again what happened. How they almost gave in in the heat of the moment.

September 2020, you never cease to amaze me.

If the sweet moments were too much before, the sexual tension of that July night was something that went out of their hands. 

Since that call, Hayden’s brain has been playing tricks with him almost every night. Dreaming all sorts of things with her, it was divided between the nastiest of them and the most domestic too. Railing her watching the Eiffel Tower, leaving love bites all over the visible, just for him, parts of her body and then taking a walk on the French streets hand in hand, or having coffee in the morning and cleaning the foam off the tip of her nose and then kissing it.

Dreaming of her never failed to leave him wishing for more, praying for more. After a very vivid, specific, hot dream where he wasn’t going to be able to look her in the eyes for a good couple of days, he had to put space between them. So the facetimes were a big no because the dream kept repeating in the back of his mind, every day, and looking her in the eye would make a mess of him.

But now, after nearly two months, he was more than happy to look at her beautiful face. Eager even. Why? Curiosity got the best of him and he had googled her, just to see her work and ended up watching a movie of hers. To say he was fascinated, and amazed was understandable. Hayden always knew she was incredible, but the way he ended up at the edge of his seat, wanting more of her art, was something that didn’t happen every time he watched a movie. 

 She answered right away, her glasses on the bright of her nose. “Hi.” 

“You…you…” she looked at him, raising an eyebrow, “you are a work of art.” Coming up strong I see. The truth in his voice, in his eyes, came from his heart.

Slowly, a smile appeared on her lips “What?” and a little laugh escaped them.

“I just watched one of your movies and…and…” she looked like a deer caught in headlights “and it’s amazing.” A smile adorned his lips. “You are amazing.” 

She dropped what she was doing and looked directly at him. “You really think that?” 

“Of course.” Sincerity laced in his tone. “I think that since I met you, sorry if I never told you, Bubble.” The way she looked down, hiding her cute smile, made his hands itch to lift her chin to be able to see it in person.

“A little reminder from time to time, wouldn’t harm you know.” She joked, making him laugh.

“Sure, I’ll remind it to you.” He winked. “But not all the time, we wouldn’t want you to be a show-off.” It was her turn to laugh about it. Her sweet laugh was music to his ears.

Hayden turned into a fan of hers, bombarding her with questions left and right about what inspired her, why things were how they were in the movie and every little detail about it. And she happily answered it, giving him her complete attention.

The title ‘Little Miss Director’ was too small for her, actually, it didn’t fit her at all. In his eyes, and surely in the eyes of everyone who met her, she was a great director, a splendid artist worthy of awards. It didn’t matter that she was young. The brunette was eager to see her in her element, in the field guiding the team so that the vision she had for the script, which she was putting sweat and tears into making, would come true.

“Ewan’s words did not make you justice, nor to your work.” 

She frowned. “What did he say?”

“Basically, that you were amazing.” She giggled, nervously, blush creeping to her cheeks. “But nothing more, I tried to pry details away but he didn’t slip, not even once.” He joked and a true laugh escaped her lips. A proud smile plastered on his face by the fact of being able to make her laugh.

She nodded. “At this point, I think he’s as proud of me as my dad.” They laughed.

“He is!” The brunette reassured her. “Crazy proud.” 

“I adored him.” She confessed and he nodded, feeling the same for the Scottish.

You adore me too?  “And he always said that you are a well-deserved award winner.”

She opened her eyes big, “Yes, I have a few.” and mumbled.

At that point, he was comfortably seated on his sofa, hand supporting his head and his attention fully on her. “I know.” She raised her eyebrows, surprised. “I may or may not have googled you.” He admitted hiding his face, a little ashamed. Perfect, now she would think I'm some creep stalking her. But her sweet laugh reached his ears.

“Please tell me how unflattering the pictures are?” She asked, still laughing. “I’ve never googled myself.”

He shook his head. “There’s no pictures of you.” She frowned. “Which I found odd for someone who has three Spirit Awards under her belt, one feature film nominated in Cannes and one Caméra d’Or.” He had a proud smile on his lips and she blushed but with a smile so big it closed her eyes. “Absolutely amazing.” He clapped at her and she blushed harder. “I’m crazy proud of you too.” While I’m at it, why don’t I tell her that I have a 13-year-old boy crush on her? Make myself 100% embarrassed.

Maybe it was the lighting in her house, maybe it was his imagination, but Hayden could swear she had tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Hayden.” The brunette nodded. 

They talked a little more about the awards and the technical aspects of the movies she made. “One thing I still don’t understand is” she raised an eyebrow, curiously “How a face like yours isn’t plastered all over the place?”

“Is that a compliment?” Her head tilted to the side. 

“Of course it is,” he said, nodding. “You are absolutely beautiful.” Subtlety is not my thing, clearly.

It was like he was trying to see how many times he could make her blush in a single conversation. Because those words made her red like a tomato, to the point she could feel how warm her cheeks were. “Thank you.” And he bowed his head again, happy to compliment her. “The photo thing is because I try to blend in as much as possible,” he frowned, “which is easy, when what all the people are most interested in is taking photos of the young models and big actresses there.”

He tried to rack his brain thinking of what young models or actresses had that she hadn't. And the answer was nothing. She was beautiful, like a breath of fresh air, fashionable and had a smile that could light up any room. But behind everything physical, she was funny, artistic and intelligent like no other. Hayden was pretty sure his words came up short if he tried to describe her. 

“Besides,” her voice brought him back, “I wanted to be taken seriously at that time for future works, so if there wasn’t a picture of me it was better.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to be judged by my age, which people tend to do.” She pursed her lips. “No one would hire me to do a movie if they found out I was that young when I started. Not that the no pictures stopped them, because when they saw me in person a few backed down from the offer, but I fought tooth and nail for my art, my work.”

The scene in the first reading table came to his mind. “You still do.” She nodded. “That’s why you ran after standing your ground in the incident with the writer that time?”

She nodded. “He was rude as hell, not the first time that a male writer was rude to me, but the condescending way he said it boiled my blood.” She remembered, shaking her head. “I had to get away from that room before I lost my mind.” That was why he hadn’t found her when he looked for her. “But, back on topic, I like having a low profile”

He nodded, “Yeah that’s a feeling I can resemble.” She raised her eyebrows for a few seconds. “I like my private life.”

“I totally agree, like I will not make my life a circus for all the media to pick apart.” They were both nodding eagerly, happy to be thinking the same thing. “I mean, I'll pose if it's strictly necessary, otherwise I'll avoid it like the plague.” She said laughing.

He tilted his head to the side, frowning. “What you mean?”

She shrugged. “All the flashes and screams, being the centre of attention, the madness, I don't know, it gives me anxiety.” He knew what she was talking about. “And I like being behind the camera, I’m much more comfortable there.”

It was a little criminal to him that something as beautiful as she liked to be hidden from the lenses, away from the world to witness, but a tiny part of him, the selfish part, loved being one of the few who really knew her, or was starting to do. 

At that point, the list of things Hayden noticed about her turned into a notepad. The things he kept learning about her day after day, text after text, facetime after Facetime, meant a lot to him. The trust she had in him made him feel special.

Next Part →

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[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller’s ff) - chapter 4

chapter 3 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 5

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader.

a/n: hiya! i already mentioned all of this in my snippet post, but i'll do so again. in this chapter we are going down some dark path. probably not wise considering how shit has been going down as of late in the pedro pascal fandom. i have tried to write this chapter as sensibly as i could given the circumstances reader is in. i know this is a sensitive topic so please, PLEASE, read the warnings before you go ahead. i promise i'll make it up to you guys in the next chapter. other than that, i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! i love engaging with you guys. take care of yourselves <3

warnings: MDNI, 18+. please proceed with caution. if any of the following warnings trigger you, skip this chapter. DARK THEME. r4pe threats (it doesn’t happen, but still). death threats. mention of voyeurism. unsolicited dirty talk. slapping. reader is humiliated. derogatory terms (bitch, whore). swear words. masturbation (m to himself). body shaming (well deserved though). blood. violence. gore bc joel loses his shit. murder (but it’s okay because i say so). soft!caring!joel. pet name (dove). reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 36. no use of y/n.  joel's and reader's pov.

w/c: ~2.3k.

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

Joel groaned, face down on the ground. His head hurt like hell, to the point where he could not even open his eyes. A drilling pain on the back of his skull pierced through the whole way to the space between his eyebrows. He squeezed his eyes, in an attempt to clear his sight, before opening them. The whole world spun around him like a merry-go-round ― he felt like throwing up.

He motioned his hand backwards to where the searing pain was coming from, only to find a new source of aching ― his right shoulder felt like it was dislocated, but the reality was that he had been shot.

I have been shot, he repeated in his mind.

Why though? He couldn’t remember what had happened nor where he was.

“Joel! What the fuck is going on?!”, Tommy’s voice forced him to close his eyes again. He kneeled beside Joel, putting pressure on his shoulder. “Where is she?”

Where is who? he wanted to reply.

And then it hit him. You both gave in to your passion, and he ruined it by labelling it “a mistake”. And then hell broke loose ― his last memory was your screams before you were dragged away.

Consciousness flooded back into him. Joel sat up quickly ― too quickly as his head pulsed in excruciating pain.

“Easy, Joel”, said the younger Miller, removing his hand to inspect the wound and tying a piece of clothing around the shoulder to contain the bleeding. “The bullet has gone through cleanly. You’re going to need to take care of that wound but should heal just fine”.

“They’ve taken her, Tommy”, Joel managed to mutter.

Doom washed over him. He felt sick to his stomach at the mere thought of what your destiny might be. He should have paid attention; he should have known you both were being watched. But at that moment in time he was thinking with his cock, not with his brain. He put you in harm’s way. He knew he shouldn’t have exposed you like that. He would not have done it had he known someone was spying on you both.

His last words to you basically meant that you were a mistake he regretted. His heart contracted so hard at the realisation of what he had said, his lungs evacuated all air within them. Where those going to really be his last words to you?

Joel gulped down the knot in his throat. He truly was a damned man. Everyone he touched, died. His deceased wife, Sarah, now potentially you too.

Death might be her best way out, that intrusive thought scared the shit out of him. He shook his head at the idea, in denial.

“Who have?”, Tommy asked. Joel could hear fear in his brother’s voice, mirroring his own.

Joel stood up with the help of Tommy and touched the back of his skull, finding the sore spot. It was wet ― blood covered the palm of his hand, which he cleaned on his jeans.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. If something happens to her, I swear to fucking God, Tommy, I will―”.

Tommy nodded in understanding and handed Joel the rifle and his jacket.

You were finding very hard to come back to consciousness. Your thoughts were a tangled mess, not being able to connect them in a way that made sense. You felt like you had been sleeping for ages, but it had only been five minutes. Your heart was beating slowly on your chest, your breaths shallow.

You heard two male voices nearby. For a second, you thought they were Joel and Tommy. But even in your semi-conscious state, you knew it wasn’t them. You managed to open one eye, looking around. Memories started to crawl back ― you and Joel fucking like the world was ending, him being a prick once again, then the gunshot, Joel falling to the ground, two men approaching and taking you away. Your heart began to race.

Was he alive? He had to be. He couldn’t have died. You would know, you would feel it in your guts. You felt like your chest was being crushed. No, he can’t be.

“God, I am gonna come”, you spotted the first man you saw, the one who shot Joel, jerking off besides you.

Had you been fully conscious, you would have retched when he cleaned the cum off his hand on your T-shirt.

“She was fucking that guy like a whore, she won’t mind if we use her for a bit”, said the second man. “I bet her cunt is still fucking wet. But we should wait for the others to get here first”.

You were slowly coming back to your senses, starting to understand the gravity of your situation. By the way they talked, it was pretty clear what their plans for you were. The prospect of being raped awakened your fight-or-flight instinct, your brain racing with thoughts, trying to come up with an escape plan. Either you fled, or you died trying.

You were sat up, your back against a tree, your hands loosely tied up in front of you. You rubbed one hand against the other, the right one slowly coming off the knot.

“I want to fuck her mouth so bad ― I don’t think that lucky bastard did”, you were not sure who said it, but you didn’t care.

“With such a small dick, I bet you I still would have plenty of room in my mouth to be able to talk unbothered”, you couldn’t stop the snarky remark.

The first man didn’t take your comment very graciously, probably ashamed of such a small dick. He slapped you with such force, the ring on his finger slashed the skin on your right cheek. You fell to the ground on your belly, your hands becoming free in the process, which you hid under your body so that monkey of a man wouldn’t notice.

“We’ll see how much you laugh after we’re finished with you and leave your broken body somewhere for your boyfriend to see”, he threatened with a laugh, touching himself again. "Open up, bitch".

He grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to face him, his ridiculously tiny dick too close to your mouth. You pulled away from him with all your might, releasing yourself from his grasp.

Although you put on a mask and pretended this was not affecting you, you were so fucking frightened. Your survival instinct kicked in again when the same ape tried to snatch you by the T-shirt as you slithered away, partially ripping it. You turned around quickly and scratched his face ― your nails sinking in his skin as deep as you could. You thought you hit his eye ― and you wished him blind. You growled like a cornered animal when the second man approached you, while the first one was on his knees wailing like a newborn baby.

“So you’re a fighter, huh?”, he chuckled.

When he got close, you knocked him off his feet by swinging one of your legs sideways under him. That was your chance ― and you took it. You got up and started running, the second man shouting blasphemies while going after you.

You had only run like five yards when a gunshot echoed in the middle of the night. You ducked and tripped, falling to the ground.

You looked back and saw that guy face down on the dirt, not moving. The back of his head was blown to pieces, half of it had disintegrated into thin air. Blood and brain bits had started to soak the leaves under him.

Then you saw Joel a few feet back, rifle on hand, Tommy just a few metres behind him.

You sighed with relief.

Joel had one look at the state of you and wished he hadn’t shot that man. He should have suffered a more terrible death. He felt anger ―no, fury― burning up his insides. Joel was seeing red, not being able to tame his feelings back under control. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins with solace ―you were alive― but also with rage.

“Man, we’re sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not what it looks like, I had nothing to do with this”, begged the man who had shot him ten minutes earlier.

Joel slowly turned around to face him. The asshole was on his knees, his left eye bleeding profusely, trousers pulled down and his micropenis dangling out of his underwear. With his eyes fixated on the poor excuse of a man praying on the ground, Joel handed the rifle to Tommy and unsheathed the folding hunting knife he kept in his boot.

“No, please, I promise you I didn’t touch her, I would never―”, his pleading fell on deaf ears.

“You fucking liar”, Joel said under his breath, positioning himself behind the kneeled man.

Joel grabbed him by his hair, pulling his head backwards to expose his neck. He could see tears on the edges of his eyes. He was young, probably around twenty, but Joel didn’t give a fuck. He deserved to die. Joel unfolded the hunting knife by removing the safeguard, placed it under his chin and slit his throat slowly but steadily. The man gagged, desperately trying to fill his lungs with oxygen ― his hands had flown to his neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but blood was pouring out like a fountain.

Joel looked at him dead in the eye until the man’s arms fell to his sides. When he was sure that motherfucker was dead, he let go of the head, the body making a thudding sound when it hit the floor.

Only then he dared to look in your direction. He wasn’t ready to see you down on your knees, dry tears on your cheeks. You looked like a baby deer in the middle of the road at night, blinded by the headlights. One side of your T-shirt was ripped from top to bottom, one of your breasts showing. You were not moving, your big eyes widened in shock.

Joel did not want to imagine what had happened to you, but he saw semen on your T-shirt and his brain started wandering off to the darkest of places. He was frozen in place for a few seconds before finally approaching you slowly, afraid you were going to step back away from him. He wouldn’t blame you if you did. He put away the knife before kneeling in front of you ― his hands, palms down, up in the air.

“Are you…?”, he didn’t finish the question because it was obvious you were not okay.

“It’s okay”, you answered immediately.

Joel gave you a puzzled look.

“No, it’s not fucking okay”, he whispered.

Then reality dawned on you. Your body had been on high alert this whole time, your instincts forcing you to put your feelings away so you could focus on the task at hand ― escaping as unscathed as possible. It wasn’t until those men were dead and Joel faced you, that you allowed emotions to take over you.

Your eyes welled up, your entire body shaking as the adrenaline abandoned your system.

“I… I don’t… It’s just…”, you couldn’t form coherent sentences.

Joel closed the distance between you two and hugged you. You buried your face in his chest and sobbed silently for minutes on end. His left hand stroked your hair as he held you and whispered calming words in your ear. When your eyes dried up, you looked up at him through damp eyelashes and he swept away the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, the rest of his fingers gently placed on your jawline.

“Your cheek”, Joel’s lips wrinkled as he hovered his thumb over the wound.

You could tell he was trying to control himself, but as the seconds went on, he got calmer.

“Can I?”, he muttered, looking down to your teared T-shirt.

You nodded and he helped you take it off. Joel blocked Tommy’s vision with his broad body while he removed his jacket and helped you put it on, discarding your dirty T-shirt to one side.

“They didn’t…”, you tried to explain, your bottom lip trembling.

“We don’t need to talk about it now, only when you’re ready ― if you’re ever ready”, he spoke softly.

You greatly appreciated he didn’t push you for an explanation of what had happened. You were not sure you could talk about it without breaking down again. You breathed in deeply and nodded again. Then you noticed the blood on his shoulder. You raised one hand, softly touching the improvised dressing.

“You’re hurt, Joel”, you mumbled.

“It’s nothing, it’s not even painful. Let’s go back to the cave. You need to rest and I need to clean that wound on your cheek before it gets infected”, said Joel while helping you up.

You saw Tommy in the distance ― he had been kind enough to give you some privacy. Joel guided you through the trees, his left arm firmly wrapped around your waist to aid you in your walking.

You didn’t get too far though, not even with his help. Your legs were so wobbly you were afraid you couldn’t stand any longer. Joel saw you struggling and with no hesitation whatsoever, he picked you up in his arms to carry you to the cave.

"You're gonna hurt your shoulder even more, Joel", you complained.

"Nonsense", he whispered, softly kissing your forehead.

You did not protest after that again and hugged his neck, your face hiding in the curve of his neck.

In his arms, you felt safe. Your haven on this twisted, revolting earth.

“One of the men said they were waiting on more people to arrive”, you remembered suddenly.

Joel briefly looked down at you. You could tell he was controlling his face expression.

“Don’t worry about it, dove. I’ll take care of each one of them”.

That was a promise he kept religiously.

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 10

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

All Falls Down (Prequel)

Series Masterlist

Thank you to my friend @paigereeder for helping me through my brain rot!!

“Josh!” Kiyanna called out, struggling to keep up with his long strides. Kaiden was also struggling so she let go of Josh’s hand to pick him up. “Slow down!” 

“He put his damn hands on you, Key! He lucky he not a patient in this damn hospital!.” He gruffed out as they made it to his truck with Joe trailing behind them with the stroller. “Come on, get in the car.” He muttered as he took Kaiden from her and placed him in his booster seat before grabbing Kairo out of his stroller and placing him in his carseat and turning the car on. Kiyana shook her head as she looked at her watch for the time. Josh beating Elijah’s ass had damn near taken up her whole lunch break. 

“Josh, I have to go back to work.” Josh snapped his head towards her and looked at her incredulously. 

“Key, you ain’t going back to that damn hospital. Not while he in there.” Kiyana arched one of her eyebrows and opened her mouth to most definitely curse him out but Debra and Arin running up to them stopped her. 

“Oh my god! Are you okay?!” Debra asked her, grabbing Key cheeks in her hands turning her face side to side to inspect it. 

“Debra, I’m fine.” 

“We heard what happened, Dr. Daniels is on the L&D floor trying to get you fired and press charges.” Arin spoke up, nibbing her bottom lip in worry. She hadn’t been working at Pensacola Memorial for long but Debra and Kiyana were the only nurses who actually helped her and took their time training and teaching her. It would suck if Kiyana lost her job over this. Arin’s eyes quickly shifted over to the behemoth of a man standing to the side of Kiyana and the other man. She quickly looked away when he looked towards her and smiled, feeling her heart stutter in her chest. 

Hearing that Elijah was trying to get Key fired, sent Josh into another fit of rage. “Getchu’ fired for what?!” Josh grunted out, face all balled up as his eyes narrowed on the hospital. “He put his hands on you! His ass should be fired.” 

“Josh, please calm down.” Kiyana calmly said as she moved out of Debra’s grasp and moved closer to Josh, taking his face in her hands, making him look her in her eyes. “I am fine. Please calm down.” Josh nodded his head and took a deep breath, staring into her eyes trying to calm himself down. 

“Ohh, that’s Josh.” She heard Debra whisper but Kiyana paid her no mind. 

“Key, look at the damn bruise he left on you. You are not fine.” Josh said as he gently took her arm to inspect the bruise. “What he do this for anyway.?” 

“I found out about his wife, his pregnant wife.” Key whispered and Josh froze, flickering his eyes up to heres.  “His wife is my patient and she asked me to call him to the L&D floor. When I told him I was gonna go tell her the truth , he snapped and threatened me.” 

“Key..” Josh trailed off in a whisper. 

“Ironic huh?” She muttered back, flinching when he reached his hand up to wipe her tears away. She quickly gathered herself, wiping her own tears and leaning into the car.  “Mommy has to go back to work okay.” She said to Kaiden, plastering a smile on her face, that didn’t reach her eyes. 

“But, we didn’t eat yet.” He said softly, tears filling his eyes as he wrapped his arms around his mothers neck tightly. “I don’t want you to go back in there with the bad man.” 

Debra, who overheard, gently placed a hand on Kiyana’s lower back. “Take the rest of the day and tomorrow off. I’ll go talk to Chuck and report what happened for you.” 

“Okay.” Kiyana nodded her head with a deep sigh. 

“I’ll see you on Wednesday. “ Debra smiled at her before doing the same to the two men before walking back towards the hospital with Arin following her. 

“I can just take them home with me.” Kiyana muttered, wanting to get as far away from Josh and Joe. 

“What? No. I said I was gonna take y’all to lunch and that’s what I’m gonna do before we have to go pick up Kamari from school.” Not in the mood to argue, Kiyana nodded her head in agreement before shifting her eyes to Joe. 

“I just wanted to talk to you.” Joe spoke up. “I don’t have to go to lunch with y’all.” Kiyana looked at Josh who nodded and got in the car leaving the two of them alone. 

“Wassup Joe?” Kiyana muttered as she crossed her arms over her chest. Joe put the stroller into the trunk before turning to face Kiyana, his expression a mixture of regret and guilt. 

“I just wanted to apologize.”  Kiyana arched her eyebrow at him, waiting for him to continue. “I fucked up. I was selfish and -” 

“It’s fine Joe.” Kiyana interrupted him with a slight shake of her head.  “You weren’t the only one at fault. I wanted to get back at Josh and you were there. I’m in the wrong just as much as you are.” 

“I shoulda never called him though. I was being petty and vindictive.”  Kiyana shrugged, 

‘Look, it was a fucked up thing to do but I don’t need the apology, Josh does. You’re his blood and I'm just some girl y’all met twenty-something years ago. I should be the one apologizing to y’all. I feel like a slut for messing up y’alls  relationship.” Josh, who was definitely eavesdropping, called out 

“Bullshit.” at the same time Joe said, 

“You ain’t just some girl we met in highschool. You our family now and forever. Whether or not you and Josh get back together we will always look at you like family.  I already apologized to Josh but I still feel like shit and imma do everything to make it up to you and him.” 

“I mean, I wouldn't mind using the P.J whenever I feel like it.” Josh called out to them from the window he just rolled down making Joe and Kiyana laugh. 

“I’m still hungry.” Kaiden called out and Kiyana laughed again. 

“Alright I won’t take up more of y’alls time. I wouldn’t want Kai to start eating his toes.” Joe said, reaching into the window to tickle his nephew.  He then opened the passenger side door for Kiyana, who gave him a smile as she slid in and shut the door behind her. Joe and Josh stared at each other before Joe broke the silence.  “I love you Uce.” Josh nodded and started up the car before driving away. 

author's note~ : kinda a short chapter. I wanted this to be a filler with Joe's "apology". Next chapter Josh will try his hardest to get his family back.

What did y'all think if Joe's apology though?? Hopefully it came off how i wanted it too 👀

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[smok3r7]

They Always Come Back

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Explicit, 18+

Letting Him Go

Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My AO3

Summary: You and Aaron met in college, Criminology Major, funny enough. Throughout your five years at George Washington College, you and Hotchner had this on and off again relationship; it was all fun until you started to realize that you loved him. After graduation the two of you cut ties and left it as dumb college love, going your separate ways. After a decade you finally land your dream job, a seat at the BAU; however when you notice the name copied on the email, you can’t believe your eyes.

Chapter Summary: It’s your Senior year, you’re finally done after this and you couldn’t be more excited. This year is a little different than the others but some of the problems are the same, is there any coming back from it or is this the end of the road for Aaron and you?

Word count: 8k

Warning: angst, fluff, verbal fighting

—

“Ethnocentrism,” Aaron states as he glances up from the small white flash card that rests in his stomach, covering the definition so you don’t cheat. Like he caught you doing earlier, on one of the easier words, obviously knowing the answer and wanting to play with him a little bit.

You and Hotch have been studying for Winter midterms for the past two hours in your dorm. Kelly’s out with Bella and it’s nice to have the place to yourself. He wanted you to quiz him first since he was focusing more on the Law side of his classes, which you were fine with - it gave you a chance to re-learn and review some things of your own.

Mainly because tests have never been your strong suit. You always second guess yourself and end up scoring lower, but still passing, than your overall grade.

It takes a second for your brain to process the word he just told you, but with the cogs turning, it finally clicks.

“The belief that a person's culture or group is superior to any others.” You gently swivel side to side in your rolling chair at the end of bed, away from Aaron. Your heads tilted up to the ceiling, and your hands rest while intertwined on your belly, you’ve found it’s the best way to focus, so you don’t get distracted by anything.

“Good shit baby,” he chimes, “Now let’s try this one- Syntax.”

Uuuhhhh, you groan. For some reason, your brain is blanking. You thought this would be easier because you’ve taken the time to memorize them and their definitions. Even though you party a significant amount, you also are on top of your school work, and you’ll be damned if you let this opportunity slip away from you.

“Gimme a hint please,” you sigh after a few more seconds of thinking, and start rubbing your eyes with your palms, trying to relieve the pressure that’s beginning to build. The irritation of not knowing the definition right away is messing with you, and you’re not sure if it’s just because you’re on the spot or you’re too stressed about failing.

“There are four types, or groups, of this.” His voice is smooth, flowing like a calm river.

You have to stop yourself from getting distracted by him, even though you’re not looking at him, the vibration that he has in his voice still takes your mind away from the task at hand. So you spin your chair around so your body is now facing the door.

“What are-“

“Sshhh!”

“Yes ma’am.” His smirk is plastered all over his face, you just know it.

Four groups, four groups, four groups, four-

“Specific words that come together and form sentences and, or phrases!” You spin around, quickly lowering your head to look at his reaction, and by the nod of his head with a smile - you can’t help but feel amazing.

“That’s it,” he remarks, “and that was the last one.”

“Damn, look at me!” You clap once, sincerely proud of yourself for getting there, “wait, really?” He laughs, yes dear, and takes the stack of white cards off of his belly and moves them to your bedside table. “That went by so fast,” you spring up from your chair and move to your mattress, crawling on top Aaron who’s laid back on your pile of pillows.

“Well, hello there,” he purrs, his arms open so you can place yourself where you want, moving up enough so that your chin rests in the middle of his chest, and the rest of your body lays on his torso and in between his open legs. Your arms come up to rest under your chin, so neither of you are uncomfortable, and his large arms wrap around your waist like a cocoon, squeezing tightly for a second before releasing a bit.

You can’t help but stare up at his face and your heart swells at the thought of him not being yours - he’s your one and only, and you’re his one and only. The face that’s normally serious and edged, is now soft and gentle, the lines are still there but softer than ever - he seems relaxed. You must be staring considerably longer than normal because you watch as his eyebrows start to furrow and curve, just a fraction than usual.

“What?” He questions, the corner of his lips curve just a bit and his cheeks start to have this pink hue to them.

“Didn’t say nothin’,” you murmur back, your right hand comes out from under your chin and you start to draw circles with your pointer finger on his chest. “Just like lookin’ at my boyfriend, is that a problem?”

“Not at all baby,” he calmly replies, next thing you feel is his right hand leave your waist and finds a new spot under your chin and makes you look at him. “As long as I get to look at you too.”

“I don’t mind.” You smirk and he follows your facial expression while simultaneously pulling your face towards his and kisses you. Which starts out slow and gentle, but then turns into a needy one; teeth clashing, tongues fighting for dominance, and hands scratching every inch of one another’s bodies.

His hands have found their way under your, his, shirt and firmly grip your skin, leaving bruises for you tomorrow.

However, you hear the door swing open behind you and Kelly and Bella talking to each other, loudly. “Jason is just all about-“

“Don’t y’all knock?” Both you and Aaron groan, letting both your heads fall in opposite directions - yours on his chest and his back onto the pillows under and behind him. Bella and Kelly must be hammered because they both start screaming with laughter and trying to say words in between each laugh.

“You two,” she squeals,”are just-” a snort interrupts her before she finishes, “perfect!” Kelly’s fallen to the floor, on her knees as she grips the door handle and Bella is leaning against the counter on the left side of the room, losing it.

Even though they just messed up whatever stress relieving, dick-sucking, pussy pounding fucking you two would’ve had - you can’t help but laugh at them. Not with, at. “Have a fun time guys?” You ask as you just shake your head at them, then turn around to Aaron, who is laying there with his hands behind his head and giggling at your two best friends.

—

You’re walking back to your truck from the library, two large textbooks in your arms, a pearl colored purse hung on your right shoulder tucked under your arm, the crisp fall air flowing around you and causing warm colored leaves to swirl by. A small chill runs up your jean jacket and black tanktop and causes your shoulders to jolt and tense up, you pick up your pace to get out of the chilly weather.

You really miss the warm summer air that disappeared about a month ago in mid-October. It could start snowing any day now, so you’re trying to savor every moment before it does - you’re really shocked that it hasn’t already started considering it’s the first week in December, but you won’t complain.

The books are for two different lectures; ASL and Communication Studies, two of your four courses left until you graduate in the Spring. You figured the cheapest and smartest way for you to really grind on studying for midterms next week was to get these books, to loan them from the library, and just make sure you remember to return them before Winter break.

“Girl- hold up, you’re too fast,” Kelly yells behind you, her matte white kitten pumps clicking on the pavement as she runs to you.

You met Kelly this past September in your Communication Studies class after being forced to be in a group together for a project, but you both quickly learned that you two are like, one in the same. More than you and Bella, which you thought was virtually impossible, so when the three of you get together - let’s just say, things get rowdy.

Not long after meeting her and introducing her to Bella, you guys became a popular trio on campus, you guys are almost always together. Everyone on campus calls you guys the Three Musketeers because of how much time you guys spend together and the trouble you get into.

The group consists of; you, who everyone seemed to know and love. You were known around campus as “Keg girl” or “Knockout”, the names alone are extremely accurate and self explanatory - you love your cheap beer and love to knock out bitches, what can you say? You aren’t really proud of it, but it’s college, right? And at least you’re passing with flying colors and have been since you enrolled.

Next is Bella, who is no more than five-foot-two with curves, the whole hips and tits vibe, having gorgeous doe eyes, and strong facial features. Her hair is a soft chestnut brown that’s thin and down to the middle of her back, all while having this hilarious, bubbly personality. She’s the kind of friend who’s going to make you do karaoke and make a fool out of yourself - which you honestly adore her for because it brings you out of your shell even more.

Then there’s Kelly who’s older than you by four years but she’s nothing but a ray of sunshine and laughs, she’s always the life of the party but she can turn it off without any hesitation, which is why she fits in so well. She’s taller than Bella but thinner, five-seven on a good day as Kelly says, but she’s all legs and she knows it.

This girl's whole wardrobe is nothing but kitten heels, pencil skirts, fitting slacks, expensive blouses, button ups, and business dresses - she has ‘party’ clothes, but not that many. Her dark black hair has always been cut short in a bob that aligns up to her chin, her natural tanned skin has light freckles scattered all over her body but she has a small cluster on her nose and cheeks.

The three of you are absolutely perfect for each other.

So when you came back and was shown your large dorm room, you were terrified of what kind of roommate you were going to get because Bella was permanently living with Henry. When you found out that Kelly was your roommate, you were ecstatic, you really had lucked out.

Kelly also grew up raised only by her mother and has an incredible relationship with her, much like you and your mom. The only difference is she is learning to become a criminal defense attorney and you give her so much credit for that, because not many people want to have that job - shit you know you don’t, even with the insane pay rates.

But it’s nice that she’s betting for the other team because this gives you the chance to also learn with her, so you can learn how to have the upper hand in situations later on. For example, say you make it to the BAU, like you dream, and there’s an unsub who lawyers up immediately. Your knowledge is going to be valuable because with the help from Kelly, you’ll know what questions to ask or to stay away from and you will some-what have an idea what’s going on in the brain of the attorney.

“I told you, I wanted to get back to Aaron’s before it gets too late,” you shout back to her, realizing she caught up to you so you lower your voice so you don’t shout in her face. “Thought you said you were fast in heels Kel’s?” You laugh as you reach the driver side of your truck, Kelly going to the passenger.

“I am! You’re just a fast walker!” She smiles as she pulls the door open and climbs onto the cool leather seat, slamming her door shut. “Also you still have-'' she looks at the clock on the dash as you twist the key into your ignition, the rumble of your engine loud. “-At least another forty-five minutes before it’s ’too late’.”

While you listen to her higher pitched voice try to convince you she’s right, you turn your upper body so you can set your books in your backseat. You throw your white shoulder purse back there too, it bothers you too much when you drive if you wear it.

Turning back around to face the steering wheel, you realize what she just said. “Wait- did you say forty-five?” You glance at your clock that reads, “6:07PM” and you scoff, throwing your head back on your headrest. You thought it was closer to seven and had to hurry back. Since you and Aaron came from your moms, the two of you have a movie night on Thursdays - mainly because it was a day where you could let loose and not worry about school or work, it helped that it was also yours and his Friday.

“I told you,” Kelly sings as she slaps her small hand on your jean covered thigh, “So don’t worry about it, let’s go get a drink real quick. My treat!”

Your head perks up and turns to face her immediately at her offer, a smug smile slowly appears, “Danny’s?”

“Drive then baby!” She chimes, pulling her seatbelt over her shoulder and clicking it secure.

Before you take off, you too click your seatbelt on, then turn your radio on and once again, Doug and Carrie’s voices fill your truck. But before you get a chance to listen to what they’re talking about, the beat of the next song fades in and you can’t believe it - it’s your and Kelly’s song, My Lovin (You’re Never Gonna Get It) by En Vogue.

“Ouhh bop!” You both sing together, you turn the volume knob louder so the beat thumps from your front and back speakers, “No, you’re never gonna get it!” Kelly bounces her shoulders to the music and swipes the loose strands of her shiny black hair behind her ear to be with the rest of her short, bobbed hair.

You put your truck in drive and you pull out of the semi-busy parking lot and head towards the local College bar, Danny’s.

—

“Are you sure you don’t wanna-” she hiccups, “stay here with me?” Kelly drunkenly laughs as she sits in the booth across from you. You two have been at Danny’s for just over thirty minutes and somehow she’s successfully gotten drunk; that’s what happens when she takes five shots of Patron back-to-back, with no water in sight.

You’ve only had two over the span of the thirty minutes, you’re feeling it more as a body buzz rather than a fucked up kinda buzz - you felt comfortable and safe to drive the two blocks you had to get back to the dorms.

“Uh- yeah Kel’s,” you assure her but quickly turning the question back to her, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come back with me?” You know that she can handle herself but there’s always that level of concern of something happening because it can happen to anyone.

“Yeah- you just go hang out with Hotchy boy and I’ll-“

“Kelly!” A girl squeals on the other side of the bar, as you pick your head up to look and you see Maria weaving through the crowd of college students. Maria and Kelly grew up together, much like you and Bella but Maria doesn’t go to GWC, she got a job as the security guard for one of the museums in D.C and lives with her boyfriend, Greg.

“Maria!” Kelly cheers as she slides out of the booth and pulls Maria into her arms for a giggly hug. “What are you doin’ here baby?” She pulls away and stumbles back a bit until her ass bumps the table and she slides to her left, plopping herself down on the worn out leather seat.

“We’re out for Greg’s birthday, was gonna call you but I got too hung up on the surprise!” She laughs, then turns when she notices on the other side, “Oh my god I’m so rude, how are you girl?”

You grab your purse that’s laying on your thighs and slide out of the booth so you can properly greet and hug her, “I’m doin’ good, thank you! I was actually just on my way out to meet up with Aaron ‘n was tryna convince Kel’s to come back to our dorm.”

“No, I told you I’m fine-“

“Hangout with us! I can bring you back later tonight, no problem!” Maria suggests with a grin that fills her face, her natural coiled curls bounce with her movements. “I mean, I was supposed to invite you anyway!”

You watch as Kelly’s face lights up with excitement, she then spins to face you and you can tell that she wants to stay and have fun - you can’t blame her.

“Okay okay, just- be safe please!” You finally give in to her pleas, “Call me when you get back, Kel’s, I mean it. Don’t pull a ‘New Years’ on me.” You mimic a phone with your pinky and thumb, raising it to your ear making sure she remembers, or maybe Maria will then remember.

“Eeii, thank you baby! I’ll remember,” she hiccups, “to call, I promise!” She giggles and leaps into your arms for a hug, making you stumble a bit from her force. Alright alright, love you girl, you mumble into her shoulder before she lets go of you so you can say goodbye to Maria. “Keep an eye on her, she likes to wander,” you laugh as she nods her head and chuckles, “lt was nice to see you for a second, be safe ‘n tell Greg said happy birthday!”

“Oh trust me girl, I know! I sure will, drive safely and tell Aaron ‘hi’ from us.” She states as she hugs you tightly. You pull away and make your way towards the double glass doors that lead to the busy sidewalk. But before you push them open, you turn around a blow rapid kisses towards Maria and Kelly, they both mimic back.

—

After you dropped things off at your dorm and quickly changed out of your day clothes, into light gray leggings and one of Aaron’s hoodies. You start walking over to Aaron’s for your movie night. Tonight is “A League of Their Own”, you absolutely love this movie, as soon as it came out on VHS you bought it.

Aaron has still not seen it, he’s not opposed to it, you’ve always just watched movies that neither of you have seen - a couple repeats here and there, but not that often.

With the VHS in your purse that hangs over your shoulder, you walk up the last flight of stairs that lead to his dorm room. As you make your way past the door and down the lightly packed hallway, for some reason this eerie feeling clouds your head and you’re not sure why.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, you think to yourself. You’re not drunk by any means, but the tingly feeling lingers in your stomach and head. However, there’s something else that’s bothering you and you can’t put your finger on it.

Whatever that gut feeling is, it subconsciously tells you to wait before you open his door, you want to listen and see if anything is different. Putting your right ear up to the white door and your heart sinks - you’re able to hear his voice talking to someone.

“She’s gonna be here any minute, you gotta go cause she’s gonna kill you. If she sees you and I, here- dead.”

“I’m not scared of her and why are you? And like you said, we’re not doin’ anything, so what’s the problem?”

“Well- I’ve helped you with what I can-“

You can’t eavesdrop anymore, you know it’s her. You can’t miss the trashy tone that she has. This bitch really doesn’t care about her life, huh?

You swing the door open and you’re steaming with rage, not caring what vial words fly out of your mouth.

“Tiffa- Are you fuckin’ series right now?” Your heart rate increases, practically jumping out of your chest, your blood boils, and your vision has tunneled on them as you stand in Aaron’s doorway.

Your brain completely forgets about the movie date you two have. You just busted in on Aaron and Tiffany sitting on his bed, much like how you two did that one night - when he apologized for the incident with Tiffany.

Too focused on their close proximity, you don’t even register that there are different Law books, notebooks, and flashcards that surround their criss-crossed legs. Clearly studying, but that’s the last thing you think about because you know she has an underlying reason to be here.

She wants to get under your skin and she’s just asking for trouble, it’s all she wants. You’re mainly blown away by how comfortable she is here in his dorm, alone with him after the night at Jackson’s party; after knocking her out cold and telling her to stay away.

Did she not get the fuckin’ memo?

Your mind goes straight to the worst, he’s actually done it, he’s cheated on me. Tears threaten to burst from your eyes, your throat tightens, and your stomach sinks past the hardwood floor. You’re trying to keep your composure mainly in front of Tiffany, who is staring at you as she stays next to him with slanted eyes and a smug smile, checkmate bitch, written all over her freckled face.

Not backing down to her, you stare back at her because you don’t want her to know that she got to you and won, because that is not what happened here. Even though it sure seems like it, you refuse to give her that satisfaction. She is the very last person, if ever, to get to know that just because you know that you are a better person than her - as a friend and as a partner.

She would use this opportunity to her advantage whenever she could, but you’re not going to give her the chance.

While your hands balled into fists at your sides, biting your bottom lip sharply, enough for the taste of copper to seep into your mouth, and you can just feel the heat radiating off of your face from the embarrassment and rage. You’re trying your damn best to not lose your shit and charge her, because you’re pretty sure you’d end up putting her in the hospital - if not worse.

You know that you can’t do that to yourself, you’ve done nothing but try your hardest to get to where you are right now, and you’re not going to risk that over some fraternity whore. You also know that you’re more deserving of someone to be real with you and for someone who truly loves you to take care of you and be there for you.

And it finally clicks that Aaron just isn’t giving you that. He did for a while, but since Thanksgiving last week, something changed.

His attention hasn’t been the same, he’s constantly out with the guys, more than usual, and he’s been making excuses to not hang out. Then when you two get a chance to yourselves, he’s very reserved, quieter than usual, and not as touchy like he normally is. The sex was still great, but the connection just didn’t seem to be there.

At first you weren’t sure what to think, he wasn’t giving you anything to go on, but now that you walked in on this - it all makes sense, the puzzle has finally come together. Or at least, from your perspective it seems like that’s the only outcome from what’s currently in front of you.

“No- it’s not what-“ panic. It’s the one emotion you can read from his face and hear from his voice.

“Just- Fuck you Aaron, we’re done.” The lump in your throat causes your voice to break at the last inflection of your words, how could he do this to me, again?

You slam his dorm room door shut and bolt down the hallway that leads to the stairs, aggressively pushing the metal door to escape. Your vision is blurred from the tears that finally fall from your eyes as you do your best to jog down the four flights of the spiral-like staircase, causing you to stumble a tiny bit on the first landing as you round the corner.

Why am I so stupid? How did I not see this coming? Of course he’s still fuckin’ with her, stupid of me to not think that. Well, good job Aaron cause you just lost me for good.

“Wait-“ the echo of Aaron’s pleading voice calling out your name and the popping of his shoes down the cement stairs pierces your ears as you reach the metal door that leads to the outside. Leave me alone. Just one more step and you can really be gone for good, leaving him alone with her - but a sliver of you doesn’t want that.

Maybe it’s selfish of you, but you want him all to yourself, but you’ll never admit that, there’s just no way that you can. Because when he does things like this, you look so stupid in front of his and your own friends and you’ll be embarrassed if that will continue.

He calls out your name again as you stand there, hands on the metal bar ready to shove the heavy door open. You take a deep breath in and out, blocking out the sound of him as you get ready to exit the stairs.

As you swing the door open, you're met with the most intense thunderstorm you’ve seen here in D.C these last few years. Oh- so it can rain but not snow, fantastic, you think as you take a quick overview of the path you need to take to get back to your dorm - preferably not soaked from the rain. But no matter which way you think about taking, you’re going to have to get drenched, fuck it.

Without hesitation, you run into the storm. Your black and white forces instantly drowning in the deep brown puddles that’ve formed on the sidewalk in a matter of a couple minutes. At the same time, the cold water splashes the bottom half of your leggings, staining them with mud as you sprint in the direction of your dorm. Of course it has to be on the other side of campus, a good five minute walk, at least.

You’re so caught up in running away from the man who can’t stop his repeated behaviors, that you don’t hear the voice that you love so much call out to you.

“Can you just- Stop?”

Finally, your brain acknowledges his presence, but your body still hasn’t. Your thoughts and the rain cause you to continue running away from him, from jealousy, and from heartbreak; but you don’t get far. You feel this large hand forcefully grab your left bicep, whipping you around to face Aaron.

Your hair is drenched as it lays behind your shoulders, raindrops sting your face from above and below as the water bounces off of his and your skin. Your insides are still boiling as you rip your arm from his grip, crossing your arms against your chest - a sign that you want to close off from the world, go into hiding so you don’t have to face this.

Neither of you say anything, just heavy breathing and unknowing glares to one another as the sharp rain continues to pour on and around you. Thunder booms loudly from above, quickly followed by a crack of lightning that briefly illuminates the darkly clouded sky. Usually thunderstorms calm you down from any stress from that day, but now it terrifies you, enough to make your shoulders jump just an inch as the rumble shakes the ground below you.

The embarrassment and frustration of putting so much time and work into a man who helped you find the true meaning of love, and for him to just keep shitting on you again and again - has taken over.

Your brain and heart feel like they got played, suckered even, because you’re naturally a giver in the relationship. Hotch is too but not even close compared to you, and he kept taking and taking and taking everything you would give, almost greedy for more sometimes.

Only giving about half of the same energy to you, sometimes more, but now that you look back - it’s just so you would stay with him, or at least that’s how you perceive it. But a little part of your head knows that he doesn’t know really, any better because of how he grew up - not saying it’s an excuse, however it puts his actions under a different light.

But yet again; that’s a very small part of you.

The majority of the other part is, you can’t believe you let him stomp over you like this, multiple times, over the course of five long years. But that’s the other thing, those five years were incredible. You and Aaron had the best chemistry and relationship together, for a long time, even on the bad days. Last Summer was huge for the two of you, it brought you closer together and made the connection so much stronger - so you’re not really sure where it all went wrong, so quickly.

You’re trying to gather your thoughts and you’re just getting soaked, not a care in the world about it. You print the image of the drenched, distressed looking man now a couple feet away from you, in the front of your brain.

The now maintained strands of black hair stick to his forehead and sides of his face, within the last couple months he started to keep his hair shorter. Since his beard is gone, you catch the way his jaw clenched as he catches his breath from chasing you. His eyebrows have the signature curved line to them to show his sincerity about what just happened, mainly to do with you. The rain has caused his baby blue button up to shift into a darker blue and clings to his skin, exposing his toned shoulders that you just want to bite into.

No, I'm mad at him ‘n I need to hold my own. I’m not gonna fold this time. I gotta say it.

“Why? Just so you ca- can lasso me in again?” You shout with confidence, but there’s also an inflection of heartbreak. “Like you always do. It’s the same thing again ‘n again, ‘n I don’t know why I keep fallin’ back into it. But, I do ‘n maybe that’s my fault but I can’t keep doin’ this Hotch. We’re almost done with school ‘n look at us,” you scream, throwing your hands out to your side, a cold gust of wind hitting your chest.

“We’re in the same fuckin’ place Hotch! It’s been five years ‘n for some reason, you just can’t seem t-to get it through your thick fuckin’ skull.” You’re screaming, but the thunder and lightning muffle your voice from the world so it’s only Aaron and you. “‘N'm not sayin’ I’m perfect, but at least I try to change. Unlike you ‘n your ignorant ass.” You scoff, shaking your head but never letting your eyes wander away from his glossy ones, watching as a tear escapes down his cheek.

Unbelievable.

“Tears, really? Are you really gonna fuckin’ cry now? When you’re the one who keeps fuckin’ up!” You almost laugh from the disbelief. “Why do you keep doin’ these things to me? Huh?” Your tone shifts to an aggressive one and your palms quickly go to his chest and you push hard, causing him to stumble back a bit. “Being so sweet ‘n tender with me, makin’ me feel worth something. ‘N then for you to just- have her in your room…alone?! It makes no sense to me- explain it to me why- please!”

Your voice shifts from sad, to angry, to confused, and any other emotion you could imagine. You just want to know why this keeps happening, and what he’s not learning to change - that’s really all you want at this time.

“Why?!”

At this point, the floodgates have opened, your salty tears and the stinging rain on your cheeks have become one liquid, but you’re also at your boiling point, ears are hot to the touch and steaming. You continue to shove him over and over as you shout at him, he never once fights back.

“I gave you everything. Brought you home to my-my Mom,” you gasp trying to catch your breath, the cold air rushes down your lungs, causing it to burn. Your shoves have now turned to punches, hard and direct on his chest from the bottom of your fist - he accepts everyone of them without protest.

“Showed you my hometown, talked ‘bout my family that I barely even know, ‘n showed you the most revealing parts of myself. ‘N you keep going back to her, her? What do you see in her that I don’t have? Why her and not me, why?”

By now Aaron’s back has hit the brick wall that leads to the stairs that you just ran out of, and thankfully has an awning to cover the cold rain, and he’s still allowing you to push him into it. He’s silent, not giving you any answers or even any clues about what he’s thinking - which you’re not sure if you do or don’t want to know.

However, no matter what he does at this moment, you’re going to be upset about it, and you have every right to be. You take a second to glance up from his chest, where the bottom of your fists rest against his dripping wet shirt.

You can’t read him.

His brows aren’t furrowed, so his age lines aren’t deep and prominent like usual, you can barely see the color in his eyes. All you can gather from his tears and features is, he’s upset, but you’re not sure about what. Either it’s about you ending things, or it’s about getting caught with Tiffany.

This has never happened before. The disbelief and anger that linger around yourself and him takes over your sadness really fast. It’s not another minute before your fists start beating him once again, harder than before.

“You’re an asshole Hotch ‘n I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate-“

Before you realize it, Aaron’s arms wrap around your jumping shoulders while you scream and sob into his damp shirt. Your punches have slowly turned into weak jabs, now that your body is being held against his as he holds you. Sshhh, baby sshhh, vibrates the top of your head and chest as he starts to rock side to side on his feet, trying to calm you down so you don’t have a complete panic attack.

“I hate that I still love you…Aaron.” You weakly sob, finally giving up on your punches and efforts to get away from him. You’ve used pretty much all the energy your body has to offer, so you slowly sink into him, giving in - like you always do.

No words are said, only the sounds of your sobs, the thunder, and the rain hitting the metal awning above, creating this loud noise that echoes. Your sobs are incoherent and loud, even with the muffle from his body.

You can’t help but feel absolutely pathetic. The fact that you’re letting a man control you and break you down to this point, that you’re bawling in his chest and yet, you still can’t change the fact that you do love him - it’s sickening.

It seems like no matter what he does, bad or good, you fall deeper and deeper for him.

Like when you guys came back from your moms five months ago and you both went to take care of your travel bags in your separate new, last, dorm rooms for the year. Aaron came over to your place for the night since Jeff, his roommate, was a prick and he didn’t want to deal with him. But you two finally had the opportunity to debrief everything from over the summer, and the way that he had nothing but respectful and considerate words about it all - had you head over heels for him.

But you fear that Hotch is gone, or at least it seems like it. That is, until he finally starts to let the words flow from his lips.

“I am so sorry,” he mumbles into your hair, you can hear the lump in his throat, “Nothin’ happened, baby.”

You don’t answer him, physically you can’t, your mouth and brain aren’t working together anymore. But in your head you’re screaming to him that you know that, he never would cheat on you. Ever. There’s just no way, it’s not in his character - but with all the overwhelming circumstantial evidence, it’s hard to think otherwise.

All you do is silently weep into his chest and let him cradle you in his arms side to side as he repeats over a dozen times, I’m so sorry, nothin’ happened, I love you.

—

“Oh my god, we’re finally here baby!” Bella squeals as she latches onto your right bicep and pulls you closer to her as you, Kelly, and Bella walk to the football field for your guys big day. Graduation.

“I’m gonna miss you guys so much, we gotta stay in touch okay?!” Kelly takes over, she’s to your left as she adjusts her navy blue cap and white tassel that hangs to the side of her face. The bright sun beaming down creates this beautiful aura that can only be described as sensational, the day you’ve worked so hard for is finally here.

“Well duh, what did you think? I was just gonna forget about my Kel’s?” You joke around and the three of you laugh.

And even though this is one of the happiest days of your life and you’re extremely proud of yourself - your heart aches and half of your smiles and laughs are forced so the girls don’t question you. Because today is not the day for a pity party, you guys are graduating after five years with your bachelors in Law and Criminal Justice - which is huge.

But your brain can’t help but think of Aaron. The two of you haven’t spoken much other than a hi and a small wave over the course of the last four months. No smiles, no hugs, no laughs, just a low acknowledgement of one another’s existence.

You wish that night never happened - it messed with your head completely, you lost all sense of happiness, even when you’re with the girls. They’re the only people to ever raise your spirits to the highest after something bad happens, and yet they couldn’t do it and they knew that, but they never stopped trying.

“You guys still haven’t talked huh?” Kelly asks, you must’ve zoned out for the whole duration of the walk to the football field. Before you answer her, the stadium roars of loud cheers, cowbells, and air horns from the families. After it quiets down a bit and you guys walk towards the crowd of students on the other end of the stadium, but on the outside, you tell them the truth.

“Nope. I haven’t even like- heard anythin’.” You sigh, “But I guess I started that, so I can't even be mad. I’m the one who said we should take a break, but I didn’t realize he wouldn’t even try.”

By now you three have reached the couple thousand students who are somewhat organized by last names like everyone practiced yesterday with Dean Martin and Holly. Thankfully you guys have last names starting with the same letter so you’ll be by each other in your seats and not have to be separated.

“Well if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t seen him with or even around Tiffany since then.” Bella tries to cheer you up, which kinda does. You give a small smile, but it quickly fades as Bella hugs you, in which you return it. However, the heat is starting to get to you, so you detach your arms from her body and look at your surroundings to see if any spot has even just a bit of shade. The material of the gown and the cap are not breathable in the slightest, you can feel yourself starting to sweat and you guys haven’t even gotten onto the field.

“Holy fuck, it’s hot! How long until this is done?” Kelly groans, “My makeup is literally melting off my face.” She looks into her small compact mirror that she keeps in her small handbag, and pats her face.

As you lean against the metal railing, a small section is being shaded by a large maple tree behind it, that leads to the stairs that go into the field, you start fanning your face with your right hand. “We’ve only just begun Kel’s, hate to be the one to say it but, I told you-“

“Three o’clock babe. He’s coming this way, want me to tell him to fuck off?” Kelly stops your banter, causing your head to twist to your left and your body tensed at the sight of Aaron in his navy gown and cap.

With no hesitation in your voice you tell her, no I’ll be right back, and without saying anything else you start to place one foot in front of the other to meet him. Your white pumps create fast clicks as you get closer and closer to the beautiful man who once used to be yours, and you know what you have to do.

Aaron looks nervous and terrified at the same time, but he also seems relaxed at the fact that you’re walking to him and not away. You can hear the tiny clicks of his black dress shoes hitting the pavements almost syncing with yours, then they stop when you jump into his arms and latch your arms around his neck and he hugs your torso.

A bunch of students start whistling and cheering as they watch, you can pick out the girls and Aaron’s people instantly.

Your cap bumps into his and ends up knocking his to the ground next to his left foot, hi baby, Aaron mumbles into your neck. You can’t help but giggle at the vibration his voice causes on your warm skin, hi Aaron, you whisper back. He lowers you until you feel your pumps hit the ground, but his hands haven’t left your body.

He looks down at your eyes intently, then to your lips and back up to check your answer, but before you give him one, you grab his face with both hands and plant a kiss that shows him how much you missed him. Your thumbs gently swipe up and down his freshly shaved skin as you pull away from his lips, both you and him have smiles that can’t be erased. Your mood has instantly transformed into a positive one, but your heart knows that you can’t keep this going.

“Can we talk really quick?” you ask him, “Away from everyone here. Just you ‘n me?” Aaron is fast to agree as he picks up his cap and he grabs your hand and leads you away from the crowd of people and towards the shed that holds all the football equipment.

How am I gonna say this? Can I do it? What if he doesn’t take it well? Why did it come down to this?

As you guys reach the white building and bend the corner so you're shielded by any onlookers, you put your back to the wall and Aaron is opposite of you. Your heart is in your throat pounding and trying to claw out and jump into Aaron’s, but your mind shoves it back down into your chest.

“Lemme’ start off by sayin’ I’m so so sorry for how these past four months played out.” You crack your fingers on both hands, a sign that you’re uncomfortable, and Aaron knows it. “I really wanted to reach out but I couldn’t find the right words. ‘N I’m pretty sure I still don’t, but I’m gonna try. What happened between us that night should never have occurred ‘n I know you ‘n her were never anythin’, but I just- I don’t know, I guess let it go.``

You look up at him and his brows are softly pressed together, like he’s listening to every word you say and he’s analyzing it to fully comprehend. You like that, it’s one of the things you learned to appreciate with him because when he does this, it means he’s willing to try. Why couldn’t you be like this all the time?

You reach out to grab his hands in each of yours as you stare up into his brown eyes that shimmer from the bright sun above you.

“I want you to know that I don’t regret any of the fun we had, or even the bad times. Cause it gave me room to grow ‘n find what I can do or need, so thank you. Please, don’t hold any grudges against yourself for this - it’s just how the dice rolled baby.” You pull his hands up to your lips so you can lay several kisses to his thick fingers before you continue. You’re trying to keep your composure in front of him and you can tell he’s doing the same, but he’s close to breaking.

“But just know this. You, Aaron Hotchner will always be my first love, my first heartbreak, but most importantly you’ll always have a place in my heart. I love you with my whole heart ‘n I know you will do incredible things in your life, I want you to go live them out. ‘Kay?”

Aaron doesn’t say anything, all he does is sniffle, take his right hand out of yours then goes into his slacks pocket and pulls it out. “I want you to have this. You can get rid of it if you want to later, but I want you to take it.” You put your right palm out and he sets this thin gold chain with a golden heart charm on it, you open it and it’s a pg picture of you and him the night of the carnival in your hometown.

When did- You question but he doesn’t let you ask before he pulls you into a hug that you can sense is your last.

“I’ll always love you.��� He cries into your shoulder. The two of you silently cry together until it’s time for you both to go your own ways.

[shsy7573]

Random Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) Character/Song Analysis Kinda Thing… I Guess

Okay, so yeah, Luci has 100% taken over this page. So what? I’m not obsessed, you are.

Anyway, I’ve been listening to “More Than Anything” on repeat since it dropped, and like a lot of the fandom I tear up every single time… but unlike a lot of the fandom, it’s not because of the sweet father-daughter moment (which, don’t get me wrong, doesn’t help the situation because it’s just so damn wholesome).

No, what gets me is how, just through a couple subtle moments, the show is able to convey just how absolutely shattered Luci is as a character. And, you know, because he’s my favourite, bestest, snek-baby-duck-boy, it makes me a little emotional…

So now you’re all gonna hear about what goes through my mind every time I listen to it. YAY!

“Charlie! You don’t understand, Heaven never listens. They didn’t listen to me. They won’t listen to you!” / “You don’t know that—” / “I do!”

It starts before the song even truly begins. When I’m listening, it’s usually these first few lines that grab my attention. I end up replaying the first 4-5 seconds of the song over and over again because the pain in that “I do” is so fucking good! (And because I like to suffer apparently cuz I end up sad. Life of an angst lover I guess).

It’s the first time we see him with actual tears in his eyes. The raw delivery of that line is so attention grabbing, and manages to say so much in such little words.

I think the reason this particular scene tickles my brain so much is because it’s the breaking point for his character in a way. I am, and always will be, a sucker for moments where a character’s walls finally come down, and we get to see what’s been festering inside. When their deepest thoughts and how much they’re hurting are revealed. The entire song is what that is for Lucifer, starting with these two words right here. I truly cannot put into words just how much my breath is taken away by Jeremy’s delivery of this line. I cannot articulate how much I love it, and how important it is for Luci’s character. it just hits so deep and so right for me and I love it.

Lucifer isn’t just saying that he knows Heaven isn’t going to care about her plan (I don’t think anyone thought that’s all he was saying but whatever). He is saying that he knows what Heaven does to dreamers. He knows what they’ll do because he has already been there, and it destroyed him. They took his ideas that they saw as too outlandish, and they squashed them. Cast him aside. And he paid the price for it when he went bashing their back and did his own thing anyway.

Luci is a broken dreamer. Throughout the entire episode, and the series as a while, we are given very strong hints of this. However, it’s not until this song that we really see it in action. It’s not until these moments that we are able to see past both the veils of “Imposing King of Hell” and “Goofy Guy who’s trying his best but not great at Dadding,” and get a look at how genuinely depressed this man is.

“My dreams were too hard to defend.”

This scene eight here. The more I see it, the more I fall in love with it. Just a great example of ‘show don’t tell.’

He’s talking about having big ideas, he’s talking about giving people a chance and reaching outside the normal, he’s talking about being cast out of Heaven. I just love the parallel he’s drawing between Charlie’s mission, and his own past.

Charlie created the hotel in an attempt to give people who have been seen as lesser to all of Heaven some sort of chance. She is choosing to have faith in them, and to open up opportunities for them to lead a better life.

Lucifer, when he gave Eve the fruit, was taking a chance to allow humanity the chance to have free will. He wanted them to experience everything life had to offer for themselves like angels got to. He offered a chance for them to lead a better life.

He had everything, and he had complete faith that what he was doing was right. All the light and hope of his dreams was right in the palm of his hand. He had so many ideas that he thought, if they were saw through, would make the world a better place.

But it didn’t work out for him.

“And in the end, I won’t lose it all again.”

Now, the first seconds of dialogue may be what I keep rewatching, but this has got to be my favourite visual of the entire song. It’s such powerful imagery, and I fangirl over it every time.

Look at how small he looks in that shot (I know, I know, he’s tiny regardless, but like seriously). He is completely outnumbered, hopelessly overpowered, totally at the mercy of all his Heavenly superiors… and he’s all alone.

He lost everything because he had the gall to dream. It’s not hard to look at the song (and the episode at large, really) and find not only his feelings of being wronged, but also his immense guilt. It shows in how much he hates Sinners. They are basically the worst of what he did, a constant reminder of the day his mistake caused him to lose his home and everything he held dear, and they are all he gets to see. Only being permitted to see your failures for all eternity? No wonder he’s fucking depressed.

The day Heaven cast him out was the day he stopped dreaming. Because dreaming big only leads to pain, failure, and suffering.

“I just don’t want you to be crushed by them like… like I was.”

This next moment is kinda self explanatory and obvious and really doesn’t need any commentary, but I’m gonna talk about it anyway. Because I love it, and I love him, and… you know… angst. I’ve mentioned my lust for it several times now throughout this post, you really shouldn’t be surprised.

I just feel so bad for him. Lucifer made one mistake. One simple, misguided mistake that ended up introducing evil into the world, and all of Heaven came down on him for it. And, you know what, in the narrative presented by the show, what he did wasn’t that bad. He just wanted to give the world’s newest creations the same freedom angels had, and it backfired horribly. Lucifer, like Charlie, was an idealist who saw the best in people and wanted to help.

And what did he get for his good intentions? Shoved into the cesspool he unintentionally created, and forbidden to ever see anything good that came from his dream.

If I had to guess, Lilith was the only thing keeping his mental health afloat for a long time… and then they had Charlie.

“The tales about your lofty dreams. I’d listen breathlessly, imaging it could be me.”

His daughter became the light of his life. Something that he cherished and indulged more than anything else in the world. To him, she was perfect, and he wanted to do right by her in any way he could.

Lilith told their daughter stories of all her father’s dreams regardless of what he thought of them, and when the little princess came asking him… how could he refuse? How could he refuse her anything?

So he shared them with her. All the tales of grandeur, and fantasies of everything he wished the world could have been. All the dreams he had long since let go.

“And in the end, it’s the view I had of you that show me dreams can be worth fighting for.”

Now, the scene where Lily take’s Charlie away has always been excellent brain fodder for me because of how somewhat ambiguous it is. You could interpret his sadness to have SO MANY meanings. However, I have inevitably decided on two potential head-cannons/theories to share here for what could possibly be going through Snek-King’s head.

One: Lucifer loves his daughter, but he feels estranged and like he’s failed her in some way. She’s such a joy, such a wonder, and in a way it's his fault she’s trapped down here with all of human ties worst. He wasn’t to be close to her, and to make the world perfect for her… but he already feels like he’s failed her in the most unforgivable way. He keeps his distance because part of him doesn’t want her to have a super high of an opinion of him. It’s kind of his depression manifesting, saying that ‘she shouldn’t admire you and your stupid dreams when they’re the reason she’ll never see true light and happiness.’

The angst addict in me likes this one more, but still I’ve got another one that always pops.

Two: He feels like he’s selling her false hope, and he can kind of see the place her innocence is headed. He’s seen the horrors of the world, and he knows the more he indulges her dreams and fantasies, the more she’ll suffer when she sees that’s not what the world is like. He knows from personal experience how much it hurts when your dreams come undone, when you lose hope in the world.

Listening to Charlie’s actual lyrics, she tells him that he was the one who inspired her to dream, that he was right to dream, and that she’s not going to back down. In the song, Luci realises that 1: maybe he didn’t fuck us as badly as he thought and that she actually doesn’t blame him and wants her in his life and/or 2: she has her mother’s willpower, and she’s never going to stop dreaming or let her world be sullied like he did. She’s so much stronger than he was.

So he lets her in.

(Side note… AWWW, look how TINNYY he is! He’s so small. The start contrast in the second image gets me every time)

There’s a bit of symbolism in the song which I ABSOLUTELY adore, and it has to do with the wings. In the flashback, Charlie mentions his “lofty dreams,” when we see the duck, which later transforms to have multiple sets of wings. Later in the song, when Lucifer finally lets her in, he also sprouts those wings.

And I just love this, because I think it acts as the perfect symbolism of him finally opening his mind again. Not just to his daughter, but to the possibility of dreaming in general.

He takes her to a circus, a place filled to the brim with spectacles and thrills, a place where humanities wildest imaginations seem possible.

But even though he’s beginning to open up, and he’s willing to help her in whatever she does, he’s not ‘fixed.’ His depression and self doubt and feelings of hollow emptiness and guilt and apprehension aren’t gone.

And he’s still terrified of seeing her spark go out like his did.

This tiny smile break is so addicting to watch for me. It speaks volumes. Once again, my angst loving heart eats it up every time. It says, “I’m still worried, and there is still so much shit going on in my mind right now about all of this, but I’m here for you.”

And that’s what counts.

Luci’s character showed a lot of colours, and came a long way in this singular episode, but he’s still got a big uphill battle to climb. He still has to come back into his own where dreams are concerned. Maybe he never will, not completely. Realistically, he’ll never go back to the way he was.

But maybe, just maybe, in helping his daughter he’ll find something worth believing in again.

That is, of course, if they decide to give him a character arc beside ‘Dad who is trying and doing better,’ but for that only time will tell.

—

And THAT concludes my rant on the Rubber Ducky Ruler. If you stuck around this long, good for you! I wrote this whole thing on a limb at midnight, and NO I’m not going to go back and edit it because why would I ever want to see all the horrid grammatical and spelling errors I’ve inevitably made.

Maybe I’m off the mark on all of this. Maybe I’m head-cannoning too much. Maybe I’m just trying to suck out every hint of potential angst out of a song that’s supposed to be sweet and wholesome. That’s for you to decide. But for me, I’ve decided that I’m satisfied with this analysis. In the end, I just needed to express all the thoughts bumbling around in my head SOMEWHERE before I exploded, and unfortunately, I feel like I’ve run all my friends dry talking about this baby to them, so now it’s your turn. But, anyways, I think that about wraps things up. It’s time to go to bed.

Farewell, stay hydrated, and have a lovely rest of your day/night :)

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of both worlds (part 7)

Tw: vomiting, sick reader, implications that the housemates r jerks before, imo boring chapter just some comfort for sickness times

Vote the poll down below n im gonna start making the next part after 20 votes

part 8

You can barely get out of bed.

That means you didn't get to clean up your post-exam clutter. Making the entire room miserable and almost unhabitable. You couldn't sleep because you had a terrible fever, needing to eat a couple of paracetamols to cool yourself down.

Anything that goes in your mouth comes back up. You wouldn't want to waste your food anymore, so you simply stopped eating.

You woke up to loud knocking, borderline banging on your door and to the voice of your housemate. She's yelling about someone being here to see you.

That can't be right. Why would anyone want to visit you? You're not asking this in a self depreciating way, but in a logical sense where you knew no one knew you're suffering from food poisoning.

Except...

Realization dawns upon you when you hear a series of softer knocks. You heard Yves's muffled voice from the outside, asking you to open the door for him.

You checked your phone. It's four in the afternoon. He should still be at the library, why is he here?

Then your focus went to the notification banner about the four missed calls he left.

"(Name)? It's Yves. You haven't been answering my calls. I'm worried about you."

The last person you want to see now is goddamn fucking Yves. Yesterday already took a toll on you, having him over is going to worsen the illness- if the fever didn't fry your brain, the stress would.

You refused to answer, covering your head with your pillow as he continued to knock.

Eventually though, he stopped. The walls are thin so you could hear him ask your housemate about you. She said you were hurling all night, keeping everyone awake. They witnessed you trying to eat a cooked packet of instant noodles, but you immediately threw it all up the moment you swallowed a forkful.

"I see." You hear him reply. "May I see the kitchen?" He asked.

She was taken aback by the request, a kitchen shared by 7 other students isn't going to be the cleanest. There was a pause before she told him that it was messy.

"That does not matter." He responded. You heard a sigh and she verbally told him to go ahead.

You're sure he knows what the condition of it is. He was there yesterday for the trash bags. You wonder what business he has there.

When you hear him walk away from your bedroom door, you force yourself and your aching muscles to creep out of your room. Planning to eavesdrop on his conversation.

"Is this all they eat?" His voice echoed through the hallway.

"Yes. I literally have never seen them eat anything else. Maybe the occasional cold pizza slice or two, but that's it. I don't think they even own a frying pan. Sometimes I wonder how that bastard is still alive." Ouch. A simple Yes would suffice. Why did she have to air your dirty laundry like that?

You heard the fridge open.

"Yeah, this was supposed to be their side of the fridge, but it was always empty. So we used it as a spare." Yves hummed in response.

You rushed back into your room when you heard his heels begin to strike the floor. Quietly shutting the door and tucking yourself into your bed.

Perhaps he's giving up, you're not coming out of your-

You stared wide eyed as the knob twisted by itself.

You forgot to lock your door. Shit, you fucking forgot to lock your door.

You heard one last set of calm knocking and Yves voice: "(name), I'm coming in."

He pushed it open and you see his tall, slender frame coming into view. His hair is flowy and luscious as usual, clear skin and pristine makeup on his beautiful face. While you look like crap. And your room looks like crap, you can barely see the floor.

You gape at the square of translucent hydrocolloid dressing on the back of his hand. Looks like his burn yesterday started to blister.

"Damn! You live like this?" Your housemate expressed her disbelief when her eyes landed on the clothes, indiscernible between used and washed, strewn all over the place. The opened drawers and stacks of empty cups.

You hid under your blanket, you told her to shut up and get the fuck out of your room.

"Alright, you're a grump cause you're sick. But just so you know, you're still on garbage duty this week." She responded.

You groan, telling her that you knew that already. You told her to go away. But she doesn't respect you, none of your housemates do.

"Could you excuse us, please?" Yves politely dismissed her. She agrees and leaves your room immediately. Yves closes the door to maintain some privacy.

You remained hidden under the sheets, not wanting him to see you so vulnerable.

"You poor thing." He sighed. You felt the bed dip as he sat on the edge. He gently peeled the blanket off your head, using the other hand to stroke your hair.

"You haven't eaten today, have you?" The fingers running through your grimy hair was... comforting. Too comforting, perhaps. You involuntarily started tearing up and crying, being reminded of a simpler time in your life. It brought back the feelings of security and safety, which you haven't felt in such a long while. You forgot how it felt, and it felt extremely good.

He stopped his caresses, but rested his hand on your scalp.

You told him you didn't mean to weep. You had no idea what has gotten into you. However, you're sure you're crying because of the state of your room and how two people had to see it- which includes someone with opinions you value very much: Yves.

He continued his affectionate touches as tears kept falling from your eyes.

No further words were exchanged between the two of you. Yves kept you company until you fell asleep from his rhythmic stroking. He pressed a kiss on your forehead before standing back up.

Yves sets his bag on your bed, he gets to work picking up stray articles of clothing from the floor. He dropped them all into your laundry basket in a messy pile.

Yves picked it up with no effort and carried it on his hip. He left your room and headed towards the basement, where the dryers and washing machines are kept. He knows where it is despite no one ever telling him.

--

You woke up with a jolt, thinking that Yves intruding your room was just a crazy fever dream.

Except, the presence of his unique luxury bag is right next to you. Scanning your surroundings, you definitely can tell Yves made his mark here.

You can see the floor again, you didn't know that it's that shiny and clean. All your clothes are missing and the corners are clear of any old trash. Everything you own is organized neatly, the shelves are displaying their respective categories in order. Your desk was wiped down and your textbooks arranged by colour.

Your room is unrecognizable, it wasn't even this nice when you first moved in.

Yves is nowhere to be found. You weakly got up and dragged yourself to the door. Locking yourself in and Yves out.

You always wondered what is in that bag. It seems to be carrying an impossible amount of items. Though, he uses a briefcase for his laptop and notes on weekdays, it's impressive that he managed to fit an umbrella in this small bag among other things.

You opened it and began rummaging through.

A lipstick, a compact mirror, disposable wet wipes, a hydrating facial spray, dry facial tissues, a hairbrush, his phone, a tin of breath mints, his oddly thin wallet- it made sense, the rich wouldn't carry around wads of cash. Only cards; An army Swiss knife, bandaids, a rectangle of a foldable grocery bag...

A set of keys attached to his car fob, a pen, some unidentifiable medication; it's printed in a foreign language, a case containing his reading glasses, another case that contains his sunglasses, portable eating utensils, a bottle of hand sanitizer, disinfectant spray, a power bank, charging cables, a portable fan, a hand fan, electronic ear buds, ear plugs...

Your jaw dropped in disbelief as you kept finding more things; perfume, a scrunchie, a couple of hair ties, sun screen, ointment, his reusable stainless steel thermal cup, lip balm, a face mask, portable paper soap, a stack of sticky notes and of course, an umbrella.

You dug deeper and found out that he's also hiding a scarf in there!

All that with heaps of space to spare, it doesn't look bulky from outside or in. You tried lifting it up by the handles, but it felt like you were trying to lift a barbell with one hand. It was bizarre how he could find what he wanted in the nick of time with all these things. Granted, it was neatly partitioned before you searched through it- oh. You messed up his system.

Shit! You're going to embarrass yourself again!

Well, you still have time. The door is locked and he isn't here yet, you could try putting it back.

You heard the door knob rattle. That must be him, he can't possibly get in right?

Your blood turned to ice when you heard the jingling of some keys. Of course, it's Yves. He would know to take your own keys with him. You heard him unlock your door.

You panicked and tried to hop out of bed, so you could barricade the door with something. But while doing so, you knocked the bag off the bed and made the contents of it spill out.

You let out a distressed yelp, his ten million things spread out all over the floor, some rolled under your bed.

"Did I startle you? I apologize." He came in with a laundry basket filled with freshly washed clothes. They're dry and warm to the touch. The basket looks noticeably clean too. Did he scrub it down? The dust and mold are gone, it went back to looking brand new.

You began apologizing, saying that you didn't mean to knock his bag down. You saw that as a potential escape from getting caught snooping around.

"No, it was my fault to leave it near the edge. It was bound to fall." He set the basket down and calmly began picking his belongings off the floor.

You let out a discrete sigh of relief. You're off the hook.

But obviously he knows what you did. His scarf shouldn't even be out of his bag, as he packed it at the bottom. His keys, lipstick and wallet should be the first to leave, yet it remained safely in the toppled bag because you flipped everything upside down while being a nosy person.

Plus, it was zipped up in the first place.

If he didn't want you peering in, he would have hidden it under your bed.

You got down on your knees and helped him collect the items. You dumped it back into the handbag, but Yves nonchalantly pulled it all back out to organize them himself.

"Thank you." He stood back up and securely placed it on your nightstand.

He turned to you and crowded you against the bed. Yves slid his hands under your chin, where the pulse is, checking your temperature by touch. You flinch and squirm because you're ticklish, but he paid no mind to it.

"You're having a fever." He noted. You release a baited breath when he lets you go, reaching for something inside his handbag.

You watch him unscrew the lid of his thermos cup. There isn't any particular Colour to the liquid. But there was a faint fruity scent emanating from it. The ice cubes bob around the mystery fluid. He also produced a metal straw which he plunged into the drink, you must have missed it when you were rummaging through.

He popped two tablets of paracetamol out of a blister pack and brought them to your lips. It's better to just let him feed you, so you took it in your mouth.

"Take small sips." He brought the straw to you.

The beverage is... salty. And sweet. It's sickeningly fragrant for a drink that's supposed to be enjoyable. Except it's not, it's an electrolyte solution he prepared to make up for the ones you lost. The coldness saved it.

You didn't realize how thirsty you were, he placed the cup in your hands before walking back to the laundry hamper. He opened a drawer and began folding your clothes into a neat stack.

You're starting to think he just likes silence. He has a perfectly functioning pair of expensive earbuds, but he doesn't use them neither does he want to initiate a conversation with you.

You put your drink away and flopped down onto your bed. You picked up your phone and decided to check your notifications.

You received a number of messages from the group chat with your housemates.

"(name) u gotta get ur bestie to visit more cuz this is the cleanest the kitchen has ever been!!!"

Attached to it is a series of before and after pictures of the entire house. You almost couldn't recognize the place, it was tidy and sparkling clean.

The rest of your housemates agreed in text, telling you that he was such a pleasant conversationalist.

"oh ya idk if hes still here but he made a massive pot of congee for u, its a fuckin banger u should try it" "Damn u lucky as hel to have him take out da trash on ur behalf, that shit was nasty and he did it without gloves too" "His car is still outside, he has got to be here." "oh shiiiittt hes gotta be LOADEDDD with a hot ride like that. where did u find him??" "Omg!! I need his recipe!! Can you ask him for it, pretty please, (name)? Maybe his number too??" "lawlz not u being hornyz on main" "lmaoo fuckin simp" "im not!! :(( he's just so sweet and handsome, im not stealing their man or anything, i just wanna get to know him!! you guys are just mean!!" "whatever u say president desperate"

You read all their text messages that devolved into banterings, looks like all your housemates know him now. You wonder what he talked about with them. What was there to talk about?

You were brought back to reality when you heard him shut the draw. He left your room once more to retrieve something.

Your phone pinged, alerting you of another text message.

"BRUH hes really still here"

Shortly after, you received a picture taken in the kitchen. Looks like the photographer tried to be subtle from its angle.

The photo showed Yves's back as he scoops something from a pot into a bowl, using a metal ladle.

"shit (name) how did u pull such a fine man It's literally 9pm rn" "What time did he come here tho?? Ik i came home at 6 and i saw him mopping the floor" "like 4pm" "FIVE HOURS ?? (NAME) TELL UR BESTIE HES WELCOME HERE ANYTIME WE WILL OPEN THE DOOR FOR HIM"

At least they seem to be less of pricks to you than before, all thanks to Yves. But it's such a shame that it took a good-looking servicing stranger to get them to act nice towards you.

"(Name), you have to eat something." You looked up from your cracked screen to see Yves holding a bowl of steamy congee. He pulled the chair from your desk and sat next to your bed.

"Sit up straight." He caressed the small of your back. You complied with his command while he stacked your pillows to make a backrest.

It has a mild, pleasantly savoury aroma.

He fed you by the spoonful agonizingly slow, you're horrified that you're now used to this gesture. It isn't something you feel flustered about, it just feels... right. It feels normal and it's as if he's done this for your entire life.

You're getting more comfortable with him and that scares the fuck out of you.

You're surprised that it's not making you want to hurl, the meal is actually bettering your stomach and you wanted to eat more even after finishing the entire bowl. It's definitely bland in your dictionary, since it's only seasoned with salt, pepper and freshly made chicken stock. But it was heavenly. And its the only thing you can stomach now.

You asked for more. You were shocked when your request is denied.

"You're full. You are going to vomit if I give you more. That's enough for now, I'll give you another bowl an hour later." He dabbed the corners of your mouth with a facial tissue.

You froze.

He is right. You are full. You wanted more because it tasted great, but you would have thrown it all up again.

It's eerie how he knows you better than you know yourself. And this is only the third time you have spoken to him. This doesn't seem right, does it?

Yves left your room once more to keep the dishes away. Predictably, the group chat blew up with astonished reactions that Yves appeared right before their eyes again.

You massaged your forehead, wondering if you should have been a bit more firm in saying no to Yves. But he just makes you so weak against him.

You checked the time and the digits turned from 9:59pm to 10:00pm.

It's getting very late.

[queerweewoo]

SUNDAY SNIPPET

okay so this is considerably more than a snippet but sue me lol it's from my latest pov buck drunk!buddie getting together wip bc it is fighting me and i need some feedback for motivation asdfhjkljjjjsksk

.

After a moment, Eddie wipes the laughter-tears from his eyes and calms down enough to say, “God, I fucking love you Buck,” and Buck has to work very hard to not let moisture gather in his own eyes, but for a completely different reason.

He swallows, manages a chuckle and says, “I know,” and thinks about how completely crushed he would be if he were to ever lose Eddie and Chris.

Eddie scoffs, “Alright, Han Solo.”

“Who?” Buck lies, trying his drunken best to keep a straight face.

“Do not even—look; I know there are a shit-ton of old movies you tragically—and sinfully, I might add—have never seen, Buck. But you not knowing Star Wars or who Han Solo is? Shut the fuck up. Ni yendo a bailar a chalma, man.”

Buck just looks at Eddie.

Eddie holds out his hand, palm up, in an explanatory gesture and translates for Buck. “It's kinda like… Not a cat's chance in hell, mi amigo.”

It always feels so, so good whenever Buck is reminded of just how well Eddie knows him; knows exactly what he needs at any given time.

“Anyways, we watched them together with Chris, you idiot.” Eddie grins at him. “And c'mon, man, you pretty much are Han Solo.” He smiles a soft little smile, then, and shrugs one shoulder. “He was always my favourite.”

The involuntary smile that blooms on Buck's face at the thinly-veiled compliment feels like stepping out of the shadows and into the light.

Then Eddie looks thoughtful, in the way only a drunk person getting thoughtful can, which basically means looking like one of the characters from Dazed and Confused (Eds showed him that movie a while back).

Eddie holds a finger up and says, “Hang on, okay, so if you're captain of the Millennium Falcon, then who does that make me?” jabbing a thumb at himself, his drink sloshing around the glass in his other hand. “And do not say Luke because I am sadly not the greatest Jedi the galaxy has ever known, regardless of how much I wanna be. Seriously, I don't care what you or Christopher say; wielding a lightsaber is much harder than it looks; Toys ‘R’ Us plastic LED version or not.”

Buck closes his eyes in condolence, placing a hand over his heart and nodding his head, trying his best to look gracious and not laugh. Buck is pretty damn good with a lightsaber, but Eds? Not so much. Former soldier or not, he always manages to knock shit over with it, or end up with it flying out of his hands and halfway across the room.

“So?” Eddie presses.

Buck looks up from being momentarily lost in remembering the last time they’d all played jedis together. Buck and Eddie had shared Eddie's purple sabre as they took it in turns to fight against Chris with his green one. Eddie has promised they'll get Buck his own, soon. A blue one, to match his eyes, Eddie had said.

“Huh?”

“Which Star Wars character would I be?” Eddie asks again, eyebrows raised in question.

“Oh, okay. The whole pantheon?” The Star Wars franchise is one Buck has taken great pleasure in getting into.

Eddie looks at Buck like Buck might be brain dead.

“Uh, obviously. Why would we limit ourselves here, man? With all the new content we've gotten in recent years—new movies, the series, animations—the world's our roast Porg, dude.” Eddie grins and flicks his eyebrows, biting his bottom lip.

Buck tries not to choke on his own saliva.

“Sure, sure,” he recovers, smiling back and nodding his head. He taps at his chin with a finger in contemplation.

Eddie then adds, “And you better not say Chewbacca, hombre. I am nowhere near hairy enough for that.”

Buck desperately tries not to think about just how hairy Eddie might be. He's showered with Eddie at the station plenty of times, but has always had to try really, really hard to not openly stare at Eddie's amazing body.

It's only just now dawning on Buck that he has always really, really wanted to.

“Nah, that's probably gotta be Bobby,” Buck grins, glad of the distraction. “But not because he's hairy, more like occasionally short tempered but loyal to a fault, with the biggest heart I've maybe ever known. And somebody who just like, takes care of everybody else, y’know?”

“Yeah, that tracks.” Eddie looks fond. “Although I think I might know somebody else with a heart just as big. Bigger, even, maybe… But don't tell Cap I said that.”

They both smile, Buck thinking about how telling Bobby about this conversation would go, and about how Eddie was probably talking about Christopher, who, come to think of it, definitely has the biggest heart of anyone Buck knows.

Buck then takes a moment to think seriously about the question Eddie posed, and finds himself having to look up at the ceiling to escape Eddie's now pretty intense gaze.

Pretty. Intense.

Definitely two Tequila Drunk Eddie traits—although, Eddie is just pretty all the time.

Everybody knows that.

After a little more thought, Buck comes to his conclusion.

“Okay. Honestly? I cannot choose just one, Eds. So it's gotta be a total tie breaker between…” he makes a drum roll on Eddie's calf with his forefingers, “The Mandalorian and Princess Leia.”

Eddie considers this a moment, then says, “You think I'd look good in either a metal helmet that covers my entire head… or a gold bikini?”

Buck smiles wryly. “Both? Both is good,” he jokes, quoting The Road To El Dorado knowing Eddie will get the reference. Christopher loves that movie, almost as much as Buck and Eddie do.

“So you're saying you wanna get me half-naked, but cover up my face?” Eddie asks, one brow now raised in a way that doesn't exactly scream annoyance or disdain, or even shock.

Buck feels the blush creep up his neck and his cheeks flush a hot red. He hopes Eddie will blame the Tequila.

“I don't know whether to be flattered or offended, Buck.”

Before Buck can think about what he's saying, he's answering, “I'd never wanna hide a face like that, Eds.”

Oh, shit.

How the hell is Buck gonna charm his way out of that particular slip-up?

.

i don't have many ppl to tag yet, but i'm gonna tag @inell @rosieposiepuddingnpie @sortasirius @angela-feelstoomuch and @woodchoc-magnum for if any you guys wanna post smthng—and anybody else who wants to join in and do the thing!

[pentuppen]

Fics Master List

Figured I might as well put these together all in one post, I didn't realise I'd written so much till I looked back on it But here goes!

Go leave the lovely @adevilyoudo some love for the wonderful dividers (I'm old that may not be the term) they created for the community!

Completed & One Shots

Loose The Arrow - Complete - 50 Chapters - EXPLICIT

Astarion / OC Tav

Astarion has everything they could possibly want, power, prestige and nobody to answer to, but he doesn't have her, the one taken from him by a deadly deal.

An alternate look at a relationship with Ascended Astarion and the Druid Verlaine. Focus' mainly on the relationship after the Elder Brain with flashbacks into moments during their journey.

(Artwork by @raavila)

Mid Winter In Moonrise - One Shot - EXPLICIT

Astarion / Halsin / OC Tav

An off shoot from Loose The Arrow. Astarion is comfortable enough with his and Verlaine's relationship that he broaches the subject of allowing a play partner.

Bitter Suns - One Shot - EXPLICIT

Durge / Gortash

Helika looks upon the new Archduke and wonders why the mangled meat of her mind reaches for memories she cannot grasp. In all the confusion and hidden truths about who she is, why is this man compelling, who is he to her, and why do her knees desire to bend in his presence?

A one shot that was inspired by a piece of art by @feyspeaker. I won't post it here as it was a commission and I don't have permission to post it, but that's just a great excuse to go check out her work to find it. Trust me, you'll know which one it is!!

Whiskey Red - Complete - 2 Chapters - EXPLICIT

Rugan / OC

Rugan finds himself in somewhat dire straits and only one option. Ask an old friend for help! That is if she is still a friend after the last time they spoke three years ago.

Shameless smut that started the famous 'Its just a one shot' whine from me....yeah that didn't work as planned.....

Lilac & Sandalwood - Complete - 2 chapters - EXPLICIT

Astarion / OC Tav

A sweet story concerning Astarion and the statuesque Cerese!

This doesn't have much in the way of plot but plenty of smut. Part of an art exchange with the lovely @alcidence, Cerese is her baby <3

A Snake In The Garden - One shot - EXPLICIT

Rugan / OC

What is a man to do when he lucks into a pass to see one of the most expensive and exotic ladies in Baldurs Gate? Well he damn well goes to see her of course!

Part of an art Exchange with the ever talented @littleplasticrat I think I wrote this while still in denial about writing a long Rugan fic.

Long Fics Still In Progress

Unleashed - 46/50 chapters in - EXPLICIT

Astarion / OC

For the past two years, Astarion has found himself mostly alone after the events of the Elderbrain. Still bound by the sun and dealing with feral spawn, he gets a chance to end the suns tyranny over his life. The only problem is, he has to deal with a Druid.

Nothing I write here will accurately explain this high adventure / angst /smut story. It is Part two of The Game series, (part one Loose The Arrow) and I don't want to give it away by over explaining!

The Devil You Don't - 29/? chapters in - EXPLICIT!

Raphael / Astarion / OC's

After avoiding the devils many attractive traps during her fight against the Absolute, Ren finally succumbs to falling into his clutches in the name of helping a friend. Now she is caught in a maelstrom of toxic relationships, power struggles and finding out just who in the hells she actually is.

A long running fic full of plot as well as some of my more adventurous porn, and somehow I managed to make people fall in love with one of my OC's!

Artworks by @alcidence (left) and @littleplasticrat

The Red Right Hand - 12 / ? Chapters in - EXPLICIT

Rugan / OC

A simple grab gone wrong and a simple life ruined in a single day, leaves Rugan feeling guilty enough to take on a new recruit. Yvie isn't the usual fare to be found in the Zhentarim, but she's got more than enough fire for the older Zhent to want to risk getting burnt!

This is what happens when you keep telling yourself you ARENT going to do a Rugan long fic. Fucking old man is going to kill me!

Please do go check out the artists listed here, their work is impressive and being inspired or seeing other people bring my work to life is just the BEST experience, so go shower them with love and mutuals <3

[glacierclear]

im sorry i need to dump all my thoughts about ada x leon somewhere for personal fulfillment reasons,

big disclaimer: resident evil canon/lore is inconsistent and my feelings/thoughts on all this is NOT me stating it as fact. It's 99% speculation and me interpreting context. I'm just having fun!

it's really wild that i started my resident evil experience hating Ada. I did not understand her character and the way she's portrayed is very inconsistent and confusing (probably on purpose) and, like many others, I assumed the choices she made and the pain she inflicted on others was malicious and intentional.

But something clicked recently,,,I understand now that she didn't choose this life. She doesn't WANT to be a spy. She doesn't WANT to be a mercenary. Everything she was and everything she had was taken and stripped from her. She doesn't even have a real name anymore. I think seeing the small insight of her backstory in the biohazard manga really put all the pieces together and brain blasted me with understanding. Her entire character (to me, at least!) revolves around survival and self-preservation. She is a SELFISH character, not because of ego or power, but because of a LACK of power. She no longer has autonomy over her life in a way that matters and so the only thing left for her is to stay alive.

And I just think that ties so beautifully with Leon's struggles. Both of them being forced into this life where they have to live and die at the hands of the people who control them. And, listen...listen...it's overdramatic as fuck and a VERY idealistic/romanticized interpretation of their relationship, but honestly it makes me hella emotional thinking about Leon potentially being one of the few things in life Ada wants to live for other than herself. Him being the only person in the entire series who has ever shown her genuine, selfless kindness and care,,, and the fact that her circumstance and the trappings of her life forced her to betray him and she has to live with that guilt and has to come to terms with the fact that she will never genuinely connect with people because who even is she anymore? She has no sense of self.

And her entire campaign in RE6 resonates me in such a weirdly poignant and impactful way. RE6 has some WONKED UP writing and it's so silly and stupid; but I think if it was tweaked a little bit it would be a genuinely moving story about a woman losing her agency and bodily autonomy to a violent man who wants to own her and her fighting with his fabricated, demented vision of her. It's a manifestation of his greed and possession...and then she kills her clone and immediately after she sees Leon again and his first immediate instinct is to protect her and sacrifice himself again for her and throw himself into MORE bullets for her even after the betrayal of RE2 ........ and then after that she finally snaps and FINALLY chooses to fight for HER morals and HER justice by killing Simmons' bioweapon.

Like, listen, I hate the trope of "woman traumatized being saved by a man" in most cases, but something about the way I see Leon and Ada just makes SENSE man.

The fact that she specifically goes out of her way COUNTLESS times to protect him and save him and none of it is enough to get him to forgive her. None of it will ever be enough but she keeps trying anyways. Like, damn, his entire mission is Spain is only possible because Ada saved his ass like...four times??? And you can make reasonable arguments that she doesn't care about him he's only important for her mission, and to be honest I think that interpretation is also valid, but for me personally I just think she cares about him so much but it's in his best interest to continue believing she doesn't care.

And I just want them to be happy. But it will probably never work out between them, just due to everything...they can't escape their lives. They're both kept alive by two opposing morality systems. Leon's guilt and unyielding need to fight for truth and innocence and to protect everyone he's lost and everyone who depends on him. And Ada to hold onto herself and what whittling remains of self-identity and independence she still has when it was all taken from her, even to the point of someone making a damn clone out of her.

Man I just love them so much I'M SO EMOTIONAL!!!!!!!

[sofasoap]

Lastochka AU - Strange confession

Pairing : Nikolai x F!Reader ( OC/Mini MacTavish)

Summary: Some sickness, some realisation, some confession. some sadness.

AU to my Lastochka series

WARNING: Mature Theme. swearing. Slight angst.

A/N : The meaningless crack plot continues. Thank you @nrdmssgs for the tips and knowledges of traditional Russian cold and flu remedies (some are very similar to my culture!)

masterlist

Liar. He is a big, fat, liar. Fucken a few weeks. My ass. 

It’s been over three months. And you haven’t heard anything from him. Not a call, nor text. Zero. None.Zilch. Nul. Neoni. 

You curl up in your bed, currently on the third day of running on extreme high fever that just doesn’t seem to drop no matter what you do. 

The loneliness hits you all of sudden. 

When is he coming home?

Home? Is this even his home? 

Does he even want to come back to you?

You feel so lonely without him by your side. 

You miss him. You miss his cuddle

You miss him fussing after you. You miss his low murmurs.

“That’s it, Lastochka. Be a good girl for me.”

“Look at you Lastochka, so adorable.” 

“Anything for you, My beautiful Lastochka.” 

You miss him. You love him. 

YOU LOVE HIM?

Shit. 

A familiar large warm hand rested on your forehead. 

“Lastochka? Блять, you are running a fever.” The owner of the hand swore as they proceeded to touch your cheek and your neck. You struggled for a second but managed to peel your eyelids open.

There’s your husband, sitting on the edge of the bed, eyeing you with concern. 

“Nik.” you replied as your voice cracked, croak and hoarse from days of coughing. “When did you get back? I thought..” 

“Thought what?” 

I thought you don’t want me anymore.

Shaking your head to dispel the negative feverish thought, only to realise its big mistake seconds after, as the room starts spinning around and triggering headache. You turned to bury your face into the pillow, whimpering. 

“Have you taken anything?”

“No. Ran out of pain relief a few days ago.” you shook your head again, lightly this time. 

“No one came and checked you?” Nikolai frowned, seemingly irritated that no one has told him about your sickness nor anyone has bothered to come and look after you. 

“Few people offered. But I don’t want to pass my flu onto them. It’s already bad enough we are short staffed at work. ” you whispered, ready to receive a lecture from him. 

Nikolai sighed. As someone that has experienced your stubbornness, he should know it takes a lot for you to ask for help. Soap often complains about how he has to drag you half of the time, kicking and screaming, when he finds out if you've been hiding things from him.

With that thought, he stood up from the bed, ready to walk out of the bedroom.

Your arm shot out from under the blanket, grabbing his hand. “Where are you going?” you look at him, teary eyes filled with fear and lips trembling. Why are you so afraid of him leaving you again all of sudden? Damn hazy sickness brain, making you so weak. So emotional. So vulnerable. 

“Kitchen. Lie back down little bird. Don’t move.” he reassures as he gently pushes you back down into bed, “Going to make you something to ease that cough and blocked nose of yours. By the way,have we got any potatoes?”

Potatoes? Is he going to make you food?

“I used the last bit of it a week ago.. I don’t have any appetite to eat anyway. Don’t make any food.” You said to him, while grabbing a piece of tissue and blowing your nose.

“Humm.. have to use onion instead then.” Nikolai mumbled as he walked out of the room. 

Now you are a bit weary of what he is planning to do. You want to ask more, but your sluggish mind and body forces you to retreat back under the cover, to continue wallowing in self-pity and sickness. 

You open your eyes again when you feel the slight dip of the bed. Nikolai slides the serving tray down on the bedside table before gently pulling you up into his chest. Closing your eyes as you melt into his chest, relaxed. Being in his embrace seems to cure half of your sickness. For the first time in days you feel so safe and content just lying against him. 

You whined as he set you back into the bed, with piles of cushion and pillow he placed behind your back to lean into. Reaching over towards the tray, he grabbed a hot steaming mug of tea and carefully placed it in your hand. He then picks up a mandarin and proceeds to peel it.

Strong aroma of lemon and honey and unidentified sweetness hits your nostril as you lift the mug closer to your face. The hot steam immediately clears a bit of your blocked nostrils, making it dribble. 

Nikolai picks up a piece of tissue and dabs your running nose with a chuckle as you try to sniff it back up, and tilting his head up silently encourages you to take a sip of the drink. 

You timidly took a tiny sip, being careful not to burn yourself. You feel the hot lemon drink trickling down your throat, soothing the lumpiness and soreness you haven’t been able to get rid of for days. 

What is that familiar sweetness? It’s not just honey… it's more.. Fruity?

“It’s raspberry jam.” Nikolai answered the question, as if reading your thoughts. He proceeds to explain as he feeds a wedge of mandarin into your mouth.“My mother used to put honey and raspberry jam into hot lemon water to settle the high fever when we were young.It’s a poor man’s way of curing diseases. But it works wonders. I used to look forward to the drink every time I got sick.” The nostalgic tone of voice tinged with sadness, making your heart ache, listening to him mentioning for the first time ever about his own personal life. 

You knew nothing about this man. Apart from what your brother and the team told you. Leader of PMC, shady arms dealer seems to be able to get his hands on anything you ask for. Not even Price could tell you more than what you know. Or they don’t want you to know the truth. 

You hate that. 

He’s your husband. You want to know more about him. Get closer to his heart. You have the right to know. But, alas. He’s not your real husband. You can’t demand things and secrets out of him.

“Is your nose still blocked?” He asked suddenly, changing the topic. You tried to take a deep breath in through your nose, testing it out. You gasped for air through your mouth instead.

“Yep. still blocked.” you rolled your eyes as you answered in a nasally voice. “The steam only relieved it for a little bit.. Ugh.” you turned around to grab another tissue, ready to blow your nose, he held out his hand to stop you.

“Wait, try this first.” Nikolai turned to grab a bowl of murky white substance, you instinctively cover your nose and mouth as the strong stinging smell hits your nostril. 

“ What the hell is that? Better not be your…” 

“Onion juice.”

“ONION JUICE? Am I supposed to drink that or…” you eye the pipette in his other hand suspiciously. 

“Oh No, I drip it into your nose, it will clear your nose instantly.” 

“Thank you. But no, thanks. I’ll just keep blowing my nose and clear it up… the old fashion way.” you politely declined, edging away from him towards the other side of the bed. 

“Try it! It works wonders on me everytime.Trust me, you will feel better in no time.” putting the pipette into the bowl, he drew up a bit of liquid before towering you.

Feeling your hand on the edge of the bed, you had nowhere else to go, you warned him, “I swear to you Nikolai.. If you put that into my nose.. I’ll pour that thing onto your dick…” 

He ignores your threat, and traps you under him. His knees wedge your legs apart, his large hand grasps both of your hands and pushes it over your head, while the other one aims right for one of your nostrils. 

In the normal circumstances  you will be really aroused in this very compromised position, but with your nose and sinus at stake? There is nothing sexy about this at all. 

With a fast precision, he quickly drips the juice into both of your nostrils before you start thrashing about.  You instantly feel the burn of the mucous membrane and the whole of your sinus cavities as well.  

“... IS this how you torture your enemies for information?!!!” you cried out as you rolled around in pain, tears running down your face from the sting and the strong smell of the onion. You thought cutting up onion to induce tears was bad enough, this was a hundred times worse than what you experienced.

“Oh no. I use more harsh substances on them. This is very mild compared to that.” Nikolai commented casually, seemingly happy with the effect onion juice has on you. 

“.. I don’t want to know. Oh gosh, look at all this stuff flowing out..” you sat up, scrambling to the other side to grab more tissues to blow your nose, and realising your nose has somehow cleared up more than before. You look at him with astonishment. 

“I told you it will work. Downside to it you will have a dripping nose for the next hour or so.” Nikolai replied with a smirk on his face. “Best way to deal with it is to stand in the shower with the steam from hot water.” 

With the mention of that, you don’t even remember when was the last time you took a shower. Probably three days ago? You hardly had energy to get out of bed to use the toilet, let alone to stand for a period of time under the shower. Slowly you shuffle towards the edge of bed, nearly toppled over as you try to stand with your shaky legs. He grabbed you by your shoulder, steadying you before letting go. 

“I must smell.” you pouted as you sniff your own armpit.

“Nonsense. You always smell nice.” he smiled as he started stripping himself and proceeded to help you with undressing. He always knows when to say the right thing to make you feel better. 

“Even if you fall into a pile of manure, you will still smell like roses to me.”

Most times. 

“Nikolai.” you perked up as you leaned against his broad chest for support with hot water splashing down on top of the two of you, as much as you don’t want to admit, the onion juice and the steam is working wonders. “Why are you so good to me?” 

Nikolai shifted his focus to the side for a few seconds, one hand running down the small of your back as he hummed lightly before turning his attention back towards you, water dripping off his hair down his face. 

“Because I love you, my sweet little bird.” he replied in a low voice, barely loud enough for you to hear.

Your heart twisted at his confession. You have your suspicion that his feelings were quite genuine from all the affection and attention he had been showering you with for the past year.  He doesn’t have to do any of this to you. He could have just signed the marriage certificate and let you be, have minimal contact with you. 

But instead, he visits you with every chance he gets. Finding all the excuses in the world to take you out. To be close to you. To spend time with you. 

And in time, you realise, you have fallen in love with this strange, mysterious yet charismatic man. 

You open your mouth to reply, letting him know you return his feelings. But his large gentle hand covers your mouth, shushing you.

“You don’t have to say it if you really don’t mean a word of it, Lastochka.I am just happy you let me stick by your side.” 

But you want to tell him how you really feel. To put his heart at ease. What’s stopping you? Would he believe you if you tell him now? Would it sound totally insincere? As those questions run through your mind, he leaned forward and turned the shower off, grabbing the towel from the hanger before wrapping you up nicely,to get you ready for bed. 

He slides in behind you after settling you under the cover,caressing your hair. You feel the gentle vibration of his chest as he softly hums a tune of lullaby. You sniffed as your eyes started to flutter to a close, days of fatigue from poor sleep finally claiming you.

Soon. You will let him know. You promised yourself. 

Someday. 

“I never took you to be the marriage type, Nik.” Price commented as he sat down with two glasses of whisky, trying to probe his friend for more information. 

Nikolai smiles, not taking the bait as he takes a sip of the drink Price brought him. 

He didn’t think he would have gotten married either.  He was ready to face the fact he would die on the battlefield, in some enemy territory. As a soldier. 

But he found you. His beautiful bird. The bright sunshine. 

His true love.  

Even though the love of his life doesn’t love him. 

It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t deserve you anyway. You don’t belong in his world. 

It’s a sin to taint someone who is so pure and bright. With his bloodied hand. 

He was happy enough to keep this relationship somehow… platonic. Purely physical. 

But with each interaction, he couldn’t help but get drawn into you like a moth to the flame. 

The back and forth bantering, the jabs, your ferociousness. Never give up attitude to life. 

Makes him feel alive. 

Gives him something to look forward to after missions. 

To return home to you. 

Nikolai raises his glass at you as he sees you high fived Soap after getting a bullseye at the dart game. You duck your head down for a second before looking back up, smiling shyly at him. 

“I don’t know what is up with the two of you, but I can clearly see she is quite smitten with you.” Price said as he tilted his tumbler, sloshing his drink as the ice clinked against the glass. “Heed this warning. Treat her right. Last thing you want is the four of you coming after you for breaking her heart.” 

He will never break your heart. 

Because you are his Lastochka. His precious little bird. He will forever wrap you up in his arms. He will be the shield you away from the darkness. The evil of the world.

Protect you with his life. 

Even if you don’t love him. 

But….

If he has to set you free? He will. 

Even if it breaks his own heart. 

“You still need to sweat that fever out of you… let me get some vodka…” “NO.” 

unhinge tag list:

@homicidal-slvt

@nrdmssgs @siilvan @roosterr @preciouslittlecreature @bravosierra6 @gamergirlbones @whydoilikewhump @alypink @ashwasherelol @okayyadriana @liyanahelena @miyabilicious @caramlizedtomatoes @deadbranch @celshideout @merkitty49 @abbeyrjm-blog @shyravenns @okamimarta

[ladyhindsight]

So, God definitely exists and Lilith is having her own fashion show whenever she appears. That’s cool. Anyway. It has taken ages to even summon any will power to finish the book, the whole year so far has been personal chaos, but now as the storm has ceased and I had couple days off to just lay down on my sofa to power through this monstrosity, all I am left with is a major what the fuck. Expectations were close to zero and Chain of Thorns still went right under it.

Just minutes before I finally finished Chain of Thorns and I don’t even know what it all was for. The major things holding this story together is everyone’s damn pride and fear of being pitied—obstacles which all of them have to overcome. James and Cordelia are both too proud to be pitied, but narrative-wise there is this perpetual pity party going on. All this ruminating over Things That Never Were and Stuff That Is Forever out of Reach is just whole lot of words for whole lot of nothing, especially when the ending to their relationship is nothing if not predictable. The purple prose doesn’t make me feel anything, doesn’t resonate with me on any level, and I can’t connect to it because in the grand scheme of the story, it is based on false perception created by the unwillingness to be truthful. In the end, all that angst and wondering about the feelings at every turn, it is a waste of time.

Every character is so driven by their self-loathing, seriously bordering on self-pity, and pride that all their motivations blur into the same mess. The unwillingness to be truthful, powered by the pride of each character, is the force for which the plot can even reach the points it wants. Clare truly is a master of creating this endless but absolutely done-to-death emotional circle she just keeps recycling in every trilogy she manages to publish. Writing is the same as ever, dialogue is a pathway to always just tell things, it’s also hand-holding and over-bearing: “It seems the Inquisitor has hurt his right arm.” “He was branded on his arm by Belial.” “So that’s why he was holding it like it hurt!” No shit?! Stop it. On a positive note, I think the series is more emotionally aware and intelligent compared to The Mortal Instruments and even The Infernal Devices, where the emotional awareness only encompassed Clary, Jace, Will, Jem, and Tessa. Not completely without its grievances, but when are these books ever?

The plot served its purpose, I guess. Cordelia becoming a paladin of Lilith served its role in saving James and defeating Belial. Others had their own stories and relationships but were helpful and sometimes integral for the story to progress. It’d be otherwise fine if the book didn’t forget the actual plot for a major part of its duration and exchanged it for useless inter-character dramatics and constant cliffhangers. Additionally, it’s just that the whole Watcher thing (like the Grigori?) was clear from miles away. Whenever Clare introduces a new but a very basic element to the Shadowhunter world THAT SHOULD HAVE EXISTED ALREADY and explains it through a character (this time Cordelia), it’s a dead giveaway. So the tease They wake + the Iron Tombs = waiting two thirds of the book for the characters to catch up with you. The story is so infected with repetitive narrative, drama and self-loathing, pseudo-profound ponderings on love and pride, and I am sick of even thinking about any of it.

Maybe one day I have something else to say about the book in general, but not today. My brain has once again been obliterated. So, as usual, some thoughts and notes and more in-depth grievances:

CORDELIA CARSTAIRS AND JAMES HERONDALE. They come together, because I have no coherent thoughts about James or Cordelia. They were there and did their protagonist duties. Of course there was a love triangle. Blah, blah. I just didn’t like Cordelia in this installment as much as the previous ones. Maybe her pride took so much center stage that her previous kindness and compassion were overshadowed by it and self-righteousness. Her bravery is no longer bravery but same thoughtlessness of every other Clare heroine. James was there, hoorah. No, but seriously. James’ trauma was so in-depth analyzed and told, his feeling of pain and anguish and anger relished in so much that the writing was incapable of coming up with anything new to say instead of regurgitating same things over and over again. Also, Cordelia was constantly aware of James’ bracelet when he wore it, but never mentioned it once he stopped wearing it for good?

THOMAS LIGHTWOOD AND ALASTAIR CARSTAIRS. They worked out, yay. Don’t know why they love each other, but okay. Their romance was a nice and carrying force through some bleak scenes in the book. Alastair becoming more open and comfortable in showing affection was lovely. Turned out great.

ANNA LIGHTWOOD AND ARI BRIDGESTOCK. See the above. Same sentiments. But much like with Thomas and Alastair, most of the development happened in this final instalment and pretty hastily too. And like the above pair, I feel like a lot of the progress came with transforming the characters into unrecognizable version of themselves too quickly. I was happy that Ari was able to connect with her mother again and Flora could flourish (lol) without the stifling presence of her husband, but I also feel like I’ve seen this setting where a bad and homophobic husband and father gets a metaphorical kick to his ass and goes away in order for the life to be better for his family without him.

LUCIE HERONDALE. Lucie was generally great. No hard feelings. It’s a bit contrived that it is precisely the canoodling of Jesse that brings her closer to the dead, but whatever. Love that her weapon of choice is an ax.

MATTHEW FAIRCHILD. Matthew’s story ends on a somber note. While Matthew definitely was not one of my favorite characters, I hoped he could’ve had something more to him than James and Cordelia. His journey to sobriety continues, which was great that it wasn’t over just like that, but the reason for his drinking was such a huge thing that was carried throughout the books, so it was disappointing to see it quickly addressed in the epilogue. Matthew deserved more than a hasty redemption in the end.

CHARLES FAIRCHILD. There are other people that are dying, Charles!! is what I am left with. I am absolutely aghast how Charles’ character was treated. I can’t believe that Clare still managed to write one more let’s push this character out of the closet because it is The Right Thing to Do scenario in her books. Charles has to brave the world and lose what he has to lose because his dreams and aspirations, according to the narrative, are worth nothing because he is more privileged than other people. Charles coming out with his sexuality is set against the choice of standing with or against his family as if there was no other way to solve this but guilt Charles into doing the right thing so he can’t be blackmailed anymore. Nobody cares, your family loves you—then what are the stakes here then, in their homophobic society that time and time again fails to deliver any consequence while existing as this ostracizing boogeyman?

I hoped there was some sort of ploy that Charles intended to execute in order to remove the thorn from his mother’s side and replace the Inquisitor with someone who was more fair and just and capable. At once, when Tessa said that Charles is just misguided, I knew it wouldn’t be because Tessa is never wrong. So all there is this dumb blackmailing plot whose only merit is to have Maurice Bridgestock removed from his position as Inquisitor. It did not serve Charles’ character in any way nor were his story with his family or Matthew in any way concluded.

GRACE BLACKTHORN. While discussing Grace, Christopher says that Grace was just a child when she was forced to act on James. Thomas says it doesn’t matter with anger and fury. Matthew equates Grace’s actions to a murder, as you do. While Will’s actions against Tatiana are in no way comparable to Grace’s, it is strange how Will being twelve is mentioned as if in order to act as an extenuating circumstance, while this doesn’t apply to Grace. It is also weird how everyone else’s torment is mulled over, used as an excuse for some type of behavior, but Grace's abuse and manipulation at the hands of Tatiana and Belial isn’t taken into consideration by anyone else than Jem? Also why did Cordelia get to vanquish Tatiana and not Grace? Grace’s treatment in this book, along with Charles, was just painful.

JESSE BLACKTHORN. Much like James, he is a stale piece of wheat bread. Only thing I have in mind about Jesse is that I found it a bit over the top, out of the little character he had, that he was so angry at Grace so that he left her. Jesse reacted exactly the way I feared Cordelia would react to Alastair. I was hoping for angry but sad and disappointed approach since Jesse knew better than anyone what Grace has lived through. Also, why Jesse (or Grace) wasn’t given time with his uncles who had wanted to get to know him for ages?

CHRISTOPHER LIGHTWOOD. My sweet cheese, my goodtime boy. Characters Clare writes most often only know the strongest of emotions. They always react with anger, defensiveness, and passion; by shouting, by self-righteous fury, by everything that is so exhausting to always read. Most of the characters are that, and am I so happy how Clare stayed true to Christopher’s temperate and serene nature, even when his cousin/best friend has been greatly wronged. And when everyone was so angry at Grace, Christopher was the only one to see reason. So, WHY THE FUCK HE DIED? No one, but most of all Cordelia herself never acknowledge that Kit died protecting her.

The “false” family tree lead the story on how Kit and Grace would probably become a couple, and would’ve made sense since they bonded over science and their minds were alike while they were so unalike in other ways, but boom. Kit dies, and Grace is left to figure out the fire messages on her own, because otherwise there wouldn’t be that obstacle of not being able to reach the Shadowhunters in Idris. Kit died for a shock value and so that a measly little plot point could work. Also great how the Lightwoods always have their children killed?? We never even see Gabriel and Cecily mourning?? Eugenia was weirdly chipper after just losing another one of her family members?? All these pages dedicated to romance bullshit that will solve itself but not for this.

TATIANA BLACKTHORN. Tatiana is a fiend, a terrible demon-worshipping, toddler-kidnapping fiend, but also a cartoonish one at that. It’s just overdone. She was made uglier and uglier, the machinator of evil things, and then she died. Voilà. There is one narrative aspect that was weird though. The Herondales and the Lightwoods insist on having tried their all to help Tatiana who always refused, but when Jesse confronts his mother, he says:

“I have come to know them by now. There is truth much harsher. One I think you know. They have not tried to ruin you over all these years. They have not plotted your downfall. They have barely even thought of you at all.”

Sick burn, but which is it? Adamantly trying to help her or not thinking about her at all?

MAURICE BRIDGESTOCK. A cartoon character with a cartoon ending. A homophobe bigot who got what he deserved, but a cartoonish character still. He was jealous of the Herondales and thus was an antagonist. Why is everyone obsessed with the Herondales in every damn book?

ESME HARDCASTLE. Esme was shoved in there in order to explain the “found family tree”, which at some point, I have no doubt, was how things were supposed to be, until Clare had more ideas for the Edwardian kids. No other characters in whole of TSC have gone through so many changes as these characters have. And as such, to keep the predictability at minimum—which isn’t a lot—the old family tree is made up by Esme, so Clare can spin this tale why it wasn’t accurate. Grace didn’t marry Christopher, Alastair didn’t have children (probably?). Then Clare had all these surprise babies coming because the way she chose to end the story for the Edwardian kids would mean no Emma, no Clary as we know them. So new Carstairs baby, new Fairchild twins.

i. The beginning of the prologue is over-saturated with flowery prose and similes that the narrative gets buried underneath.

ii. James is worried about Lucie, but more importantly needs to find her so he can go back to worrying about Cordelia and Matthew.

iii. The whole series has been a barrage of period typical social etiquette and decorum fed to you with a spoon. Even The Infernal Devices wasn’t this intent on it. Men did not usually accompany even wives or sisters into a dressmakers shop. What do you care about mundane decorum, you are Shadowhunters! Have some etiquette of your own.

iv. “…one of the modistes attacked the closures at the back of Cordelia’s dress without requiring any instruction—clearly she had done this before—and pushed and pulled at Cordelia as if she was a stuffed mannequin.” CcLeEaRrLy. You just told she didn’t need instruction, the rest is rather obvious. And I hope she knew what she was doing, she works there!!

v. Then there is this ridiculously complicated sentence: “Madame Beausoleil, who kept her salon on the Rue de la Paix, where the most famous dressmakers in the world—the House of Worth, Jeanne Paquin—were situated, was, according to Matthew, well acquainted with the Shadow World.” Like, what. Honey. Darling. “Madame Beausoleil kept her salon on the Rue de la Paix, where the most famous dressmakers in the world—the House of Worth, Jeanne Paquin—were situated. She was, according to Matthew, well acquainted with the Shadow World.” Or does that info about the location have to be there at all? Surely there were plenty other paragraphs where you could’ve stuffed that.

vi. Apparently this, apparently that, apparently everything! Whenever Clare uses such a word, it is a sign that she is unnecessarily feeling the need to justify why she is giving some particular piece of information or why a character is making an observation they could realistically make.

vii. Cordelia’s savings to pay Matthew for the dresses? What savings? From what and where?

viii. There are so many parentheses explaining things

ix. There is not a one scene in Paris where Cordelia doesn’t think how other people might see her and Matthew as a couple. Every time, which is in basically every scene they have in public, someone watches them and admires them and their “young love.”

x. “I have never heard anyone sound as if they were in such pain. Jamie, you must talk to us.” Yes, no one has ever been in greater pain than James Herondale, and that has the stamp of approval of Will Herondale so it really means something.

xi. a lot of the gray is gunmetal gray

xii. Having Tatiana comment on Jem’s appearance as Silent Brother and call it privilege for knowing the Lightwoods and Herondales doesn’t take away the fact that it is awfully convenient that Jem isn’t bald or his face isn’t sown shut. Though I get the intent behind this was to elicit such reaction as how awful of Tatiana! She doesn’t know anything Jem has suffered! It was not his choice! and the like. Blah.

xiii. What is it with these YA books in which waiters always give the characters their unsolicited opinions on people’s orders?

xiv. I assume Madame Dorothea of Brooklyn named herself after this famed Madame Dorothea of Paris. Why didn’t Malcolm go to her about Annabelle? I don’t remember if there ever was a mention of it.

xv. When Lucie tells the truth about Jesse and her powers to Magnus and Will, the PoV changes from James to Lucie with no indication of PoV change:

xvi. “James thought of the box of matches in his pocket, each one a sort of signal light that, when struck, summoned Jem to his side. He did not know how the magic worked, nor did he think Jem would tell him even if asked.” Just leave this part out, readers will think it’s just magic and that’s it. Now this just sounds that you couldn’t bother to think about it and just tried to explain possible scrutiny away. This instead just points more to the fact that you have no clue how the magic in your world works.

xvii. “James returned to the house, crawling into bed with his coat still on.” James can’t return to the house and crawl into his bed at the same time.

xviii. Take a shot every time the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Durendal is said in TSC

xix. It’s annoying how Matthew speaks so lowly of Charles wanting to keep Alastair a secret when their own society supposedly sucks ass and enables shame and discrimination

xx. Cordelia only accepts Matthew’s affections once she thinks she has truly lost James. Why did she want to kiss Matthew if she didn’t even fancy him? She just selfishly used him and his love to forget her own mistakes, which I didn’t like about her at all. But that of course just fed into the love triangle that Clare is so insistent on writing in each one of her series, and the end couple is always obvious.

xxi. “…and James could remember, painfully, what kissing Cordelia was like, hotter and better than any fire.” I don’t think being burned by fire is good?

xxii. It’s torturous—and not in the good giddy way—how Clare finds even the tiniest excuse to prolong James and Cordelia finally getting together. “I should tell her the truth but Cordelia looked so happy with Matthew, so I didn’t.” Good grief.

xxiii. “Pity and kindness were not love. Only free choice was love; if he had learned nothing else from the horror of the bracelet, he had learned that.” Only a free choice to those who are free to love and go for that love and their dreams without having to make a choice between either. So fuck that.

xxiv. Ari didn’t bring any clothes with her when she left her parents. “She’d have to buy new things.” WITH WHAT MONEY? FROM WHERE? HER “STIPENDS” WENT TO LIVING EXPENSES! EXPLAAAIN

xxv. “At the breakfast table sat Anna’s brother Christopher, and, of all people, Eugenia Lightwood.” Yes, out of all the people in this world that is sitting at the table is Anna’s cousin. Truly odd.

xxvi. “The Institute is the safest place in London when it comes to demons; if he did somehow attack, the whole Enclave would retreat here as a matter of policy.” Not when it comes to the Jack the Ripper one in The Whitechapel Fiend.

xxvi. Will discusses Tatiana’s vengeance for being wronged: “Will sighed. “That was me. I read her diary out loud at a Christmas party, long ago. I was twelve. And I was quite severely punished, so in fact, the Enclave was on her side.”’ No, he wasn’t. And the whole Enclave punished Will? Please. There was no culpability, no apology, and no admission of guilt. And he also broke Gabriel’s arm. This is an attempt afterwards to alleviate the guilt on Will’s end when it comes to Tatiana’s madness. More realistic approach, less let’s-make-Will-more-shiny-and-not-at-all-a-participant-in-Tatiana’s-insanity would be something like: “That was me. I read her diary out loud at a Christmas party, long ago. I was twelve, but that’s on me.” And they would’ve gone on that it didn’t matter because in grand scheme of things it was such a miniscule thing.

xxvii. Take a shot every time the writing tries to stealthily prop up Will and Tessa as good and kind. Clare is really adamant at making the Herondales victims at every turn.

xxviii. “Benedict Lightwood brought down vileness upon his family, and Tatiana could not accept either his culpability or her own.” True, yet funny how the same does not apply to the ones who are on the right side of things. Accepting culpability on all that…

xxix. “He thrust the hand at James, who slashed an iratze across Matthew’s palm, followed by two Energy runes. He would not normally give Matthew, or anyone, more than one, but they would act as knives, cutting through any fog in Matthew’s brain.” One very profound problem (which I will bring up with TMI in time) is that this excerpt reveals that Clare thinks we know how runes work, when she has in actuality laid no groundwork for it. Is there a limit how many runes one can bear at once? What are the adverse effects of too many energy runes? What if you use iratze when you don’t need one? Are there runes that, when used at the same time, might hinder the effect of one another?

xxx. Take a shot every time a character narrates other characters on how much they have changed.

xxxi. “Now, Thomas has lost a sister and a friend as close as his brother, all in one year.” Weird way to say a cousin. You surely mean his cousin as close as his brother??

xxxii. “Grace said, not unkindly, “I’ve come to know Lucie quite well, you know, the last months. She was probably as close to a friend as I ever had.”’ Christopher was her friend, hellooo???

xxxiii. There seems to be a theme that whenever things are getting hot and heavy, something abrupt happens and interrupts the scene. Not that I am complaining, interrupt that awkward shit.

xxxiv. The bodies of the Iron Sisters and Silent Brothers don’t decay, but so what? Everyone else gets burned after dying, why not them also? Are they not inflammable? Also, what a great opportunity to mention Abigail Shadowhunter and David the Silent, but did we just once again wave at that opportunity as it passed by? Yes, we did.

xxxv. “Alastair waved his hand. “Yes, yes. It has been Roman and Saxon and now it will be demon. It has survived plague and pestilence and fire—”’ Best quote.

xxxvi. “It is easy to confuse monstrousness and power,” said Cordelia. “Especially when one is a woman, as one is not supposed to possess either quality.” Again, a weird fucking take for people whose numbers are dwindling and need all the fighting power they can get and half of that power are women

xxxvii. “he had been sure, somehow, that Cordelia would come after him, would find a way. And it did not surprise him at all that Lucie had not left her side.” James sure has faith in his sister to rescue him in dire need. No, Lucie came because Cordelia came. Whatever, what do I care.

What, in the end, was the true purpose of this trilogy? What merit is to it that it exists? How has The Wicked Powers become richer for having The Last Hours precede it? It’s actually devastating how inconsequential all of this is. The true Belial has been vanquished, but another demon has taken his place as Belial. Is this new Belial even a fallen angel or just some demon? Because otherwise he is not like the rest of the Princes at all. I would’ve hoped that at least one thing, like Emma getting to finish Belial with Cortana, would’ve given this trilogy even a little bit more purpose. 700+ pages and all is still left rather unfinished. Nothing at least feels concluded other than James and Cordelia’s love for each other being stronger than a Prince of Hell is capable of breaking. Blergh.

[Additional notes]

[scribespirare]

Hi big fan! The Flowerfang content you make is honestly the best I've ever seen written!

I was wondering just a lil inspo if you are bored.

But what about a piece with some big time villain like flirting with our Miles and Miguel going into protective/possessive (Like the nerve of this guy to flirt with our spiderman!) mode, but getting his ass handed to him and worried how will he protect Miles from this evil creep!

...Only for our boy to end the fight easily and quickly because he's not defenseless, he's spiderman! But still Miguel sweet of you to worry and try and defend our boys honor.

Anyway I'll always love whatever you write! No matter the ask! Thanks for continuing to write about this paring!

yallre both so sweet and ily!!! I combined these two requests into one but kinda left out some of the finer points from the first one (tho my first attempt at filling that one did result in something that might be a full length one-shot. we'll see)

Sometimes, Miles hates being an Omega. He hasn’t had long to really get used to the idea honestly, since he’d presented just a year ago. And there are still a lot of prejudices against Omegas that drive him up the damn wall with how stupid they are.

But sometimes, those prejudices come in handy and Miles finds being an Omega pretty damn funny.

The Alpha bad guy in front of Miles has a bit of a dopey expression on his face and is gesturing Miles towards him. He’s part of a gang of thieves that have been running heists all over New York, and Miles had brought in backup in an effort to try and nab all of them at once. Gwen, Hobie, and of course Miguel are all hunting down their own suspects.

And Miles is following tall, dark, and ski-mask into an alley. All it had taken was lifting the edge of his own mask to let his scent out, his suit specially designed to keep it from leaking and making him easily identifiable, and bam. Love struck Alpha. Or lust struck, judging by the leer on his face. Whatever, Miles will take it.

Less than a minute later and Miles has the man webbed to a wall and is dropping a pin on his location on his comm so he can meet up with others.

“Omega slut!” the thief is yelling when Miguel swings into view and then drops into the alley, light as ever on his feet despite his bulk.

Miguel’s eyes narrow and he looks from Miles to the thief.

Miles just shrugs. “What? I let him scent me and he basically begged me to web him up.”

“Whore!” the man screams, at the exact moment Miguel growls, “You did what!?”

And yeah, okay, Miguel is Miles’ Alpha and all but there’s no need for the theatrics, damn. “Woah, easy, big guy,” Miles says, palms up. “I just thought it’d be the fastest way to get him to stop running. And I was right.”

“That doesn’t-” Miguel cuts himself off with a snarl because the thief is screaming again, this time a series of slurs directed at Omegas. Stalking towards him, Miguel delivers a single, well-placed punch to the side of the man’s head and knocks him out shockingly fast. Then he’s whirling and stalking that same predator stalk towards Miles. “¿Qué carajo estabas pensando!?”

“Uh,” Miles says, refusing to back up even when his hind brain is screaming at him to do so. “I was thinking I wanted to catch this guy quickly. We kind of had plans today, remember?” They were supposed to have been going on a date, but then these guys had popped up. Considering Miguel had put together a plan to catch them long before he and Miles had decided to go out, the bad guys won out.

“You purposefully allowed an Alpha to scent you while you’re in your suit, risking your identity, and the fact that you’re unbonded just makes it all the worse! Mierda, what if he had managed to over power you? What if he’d-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Miles says over the angry stream of words. “It’s fine, cálmate-”

“Cálmate!?” Miguel repeats, and suddenly his hands are on Miles’ shoulders and and Miles is being shoved back back back until he hits the brick alley wall. “Don’t you tell me to calm down, Miles. You know how I feel about you being unbonded-”

Badly. He feels very, very negatively about the fact that Miles can’t take his bite yet. And normally Miles agrees with him because he also wants to bond. His age is the only thing keeping them from sealing the deal already. But right now Miles could care less because Miguel is being a dick about this for some reason.

“-and still you go and throw yourself out there, letting some random Alpha get your scent, and why? Because it saved you five minutes? Nunca piensas!”

“First of all, he wasn’t going to overpower me,” Miles cuts in, glaring hard at the other man. Which is kind of hard to do when said man has a foot of height on you and is standing so close Miles has to tip his head back. But he does his best. “Second, why are your panties in such  twist about this?”

Miguel sucks in a breath through his teeth and before Miles knows what’s happening he’s been flipped around, cheek meeting uncomfortably with cool, rough brick. He’s trapped there by the heat and weight of Miguel behind him and he can feel the Alpha lean down, close to his ear.

“You’re mine, Miles,” Miguel growls. “You’re mine, even if I can’t bite you yet. And now some fucking Alpha has your scent and a grudge and he can come back at any time, looking for the Omega that got the better of him.”

And comprehension dawns on Miles. “Oh,” he breathes, relaxing a little in Miguel’s hold. “You’re jealous that some other Alpha was interested.”

“Puta madre! I’m not jealous, Miles! Will you take this seriously for two damn seconds?”

Miles hums, holding back a laugh by the skin of his teeth. “I am taking it seriously,” he tries, even as he arches his neck and cants his hips back. “You’re just being your protective, possessive, Alpha self. Can’t stand the thought of someone else thinking they could bite and claim me. Thinking they could put their hands on me. You can’t stand the though that for a moment there he really thought he was going to be the one to bring down Spider-Man just by pinning me down and knot-”

The rest of Miles’ words are cut off by a cry of pain as Miguel suddenly bites down hard on the sensitive flesh between shoulder and throat. It’s exactly what Miles was expecting though, as is the way Miguel presses him even further into the wall, one hand at his hip ripping at Miles’ suit.

The teeth leave Miles’ throat but its only so Miguel can growl, “Maldito malcriado. You drive me insane, you know that?”

Miles just laughs, reaching back to grab Miguel by the hair and yanking on it. “You started this, big guy. You’re the possessive asshole freaking out and getting all Alpha on me. Now are you gonna finish this or what?”

It’s simply not physically possible for Miguel to fuck Miles while they’re standing up. The height difference puts Miguel’s cock at around mid-stomach on Miles. But that doesn’t mean Miguel can’t throw Miles down on the dirty pavement and fuck him there instead. He doesn’t let up until Miles is near tears and chanting “Miguel” and “yours”and “my Alpha” mindlessly.