#until dawn fan fiction

[heldbykento]

⊹₊ ⋆ ㅤ— “FEEL YOU FROM THE INSIDE . .ᐟᅟ ”

part 1 | part 2

wrd count: 1304

warnings: smut, fem!reader x josh, dry-humping, drinking, josh is a pervert, semi-plot, make out, drunk reader, smutty indications, aggressive teasing

a/n : my bi-monthly drop!!!! wrote this for my dear friend adri, and me :3 but also because i just finished until dawn and this sexy man is EVERYWHERE… will be writing more of him soon. stay tuned ! ;)

you knew your limits when it came to alcohol, what you could handle and what you couldn’t.

but joshua washington had to be the world's best sweet talker. because you’d convinced everyone at the lodge you’d be the most sober.

now you were the only one slurring out a random song with an empty bottle of expensive vodka wrapped around your perfectly jeweled up and manicured hand.

“jooooosssshhhhh…” you slurred to him, clinging onto his bicep that felt oddly larger than usual. all he could do was give that signature sexy laugh and shake his head at you.

he was gentle with you, still obviously teasing but not to an extent.

the boy knew you weren’t 100% yourself when you got this drunk.

“mhm, that’s my name.” he said to you, the two of you weren’t necessarily separated from the group, but you weren’t close enough to be in their conversations.

that was always the case when the two of you were together.

but to him, close was never close enough.

you were rubbing your face all on his flannel, cheek chubbying up and only looking up at him through your eyelids.

eyes big and full of drunken content.

to him, you were just so pretty vulnerable.

the way he was looking down at you was almost straight out of a cheap porno.

his wide eyes, now low and full of an extreme emotion that your weak brain couldn’t understand.

but you had an idea that it was what you were wearing, not to toot your own horn.

soft layers: a tight white tank top stacked with a hot pink zip-up that had fur on the hood and graphics on the back, your tight denim shorts and fleece tights that were meant to keep you warm, but anyone with a right mind knew they were just for show.

technically… you had packed more outfits like this for the trip, but that’s because you weren’t expecting the cabin to be so bitterly cold.

so it wasn’t really even your fault.

in reality, you were dressing this way on purpose.

okay maybe you were dressed like this because you loved the attention.

the peering looks he gave you anytime you walked by, the snarky comments that left his perfect mouth.

who were you to blame? look at that man.

“feelin’ clingy tonight, huh?” he taunted, laughing in your face at the way you were holding onto him and gawking.

“me—? clingy? y’r funny, washington…” all you could do was stutter and stumble on your words.

he made you nervous and you were so intoxicated you could barely think before speaking.

holding him like this made you imagine all the possibilities. all the things you could be doing to each other right now.

and it almost felt like he was thinking the same, like you were always riding on the same wavelength.

you know something else you could ride on.

it was stupid to imagine but there’s always been a tension between you two, so thick and palpable that it left you knees-weak every time he flirted with you.

“let’s just cut the bullshit. c’mon.” before you could even process that he was talking to you, a rough set of calluses were wrapped around your forearm, tugging you somewhere in the lodge that you couldn’t quite comprehend.

the second you heard a door close behind you two, you realized you were in the master bedroom,

only knowing this due to the sudden change of temperature in the room compared to the living room.

“wha- aren’t they gonna n— notice that we’re gone?” you were confused, but you trusted him.

despite the evident look of hunger and lust in his eyes. you trusted yourself in his hands.

“i don’t care. i just needed to get you alone.” his mouth made its way to your ear, slowly, as his warm breath came to touch with your skin,

your body froze up at the sudden attention, making you feel warm. “y/n. almost years i’ve been fantasizing about you, ever since we met,” he paused and cautiously reached for your hips.

his hands were warm and you felt safe, once you processed his words you became putty in them.

“huh?”

was all you could mutter out, keeping yourself in place by grabbing onto his triceps, looking up at him through your full and wispy eyelashes.

“i’m sayin’ i wanna fuck you, pornstar. your skin is so soft and warm. i wanna know,” he paused to straighten himself up and look at you.

“i wanna know what it feels like inside that pussy of yours.”

drunk, he was drunk this had to be the drinks talking. there was no way this was real.

even if he was intoxicated, that didn’t stop his words from going straight in between your legs. arousal pooling onto your lacy panties.

could’ve sworn your eyes started to roll back at the dirty talk, he was so good at it too.

“y’don’t mean that—“ he quickly cut you off, pulling you in nice and personal and grabbing at the plush skin that was covered by tight denim. “i do. with every fiber in me, i swear i do.”

the physical attention was overwhelming, and the verbal one was even more intense. you didn’t know what else to do but to give in to something you’ve been praying for for so long.

you couldn’t even suck in a breath before he was crashing his lips onto yours.

it was a kiss that made you dizzy, you melted into it though, wrapping yourself onto him.

he led you backwards, kissing you still while he was walking, pressing your back against whatever wall was close; stabilizing you with his knee between your legs.

you were holding onto the hair on the back of his head for dear life, loving the hot and messy kiss so much that it turned you on.

all the sexual frustration of not getting any in almost a year turned you into some horn dog.

your head was spinning, you could barely make out a thought. josh’s hand began to unzip your jacket, sliding it off your body while his lips started roaming down your neck.

“i ca— can’t take it,” a whine slipped out of your lips, head turned to face away from him to hide away your embarrassment.

this didn’t stop him though, you felt him smile against your skin and only itch on more.

rutting your hips for you against his clothed leg while he started sucking ravishingly against your neck, josh himself could barely keep himself from grinning at how much he’s won.

josh was the type for messy and quick sex. but when he thinks of having it with you, he wants it hard and slow.

painfully slow. so he can make you take in everything, make you feel everything all at once.

his fingers started sliding off the straps of your tight shirt, lips starting to make contact with the plush skin of your breasts.

“so fuckin’ sexy. just like i imagined. you g’nna let me give it to you? hm?” he was teasing, words muffled by the way he had his lips wrapped around your nipple.

“god i can’t wait to fill you up. gonna tell chris how good this pussy is.” josh snickered, grinning at the mess he was making of you.

and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

he brought himself up to bite on your ear, hands teasing your breasts as your hips (which had minds of their own) kept grinding on his knee, the friction making your brain go into mush.

your mind was completely blown, blank and empty.

fingers were digging and wrinkling up his flannel as your mouth was agape.

you were all hot and bothered, needing and yearning for more.

if you felt this good only from foreplay, imagine how good being so full of his dick was gonna be.

you couldn’t wait.

you were letting out noises you didn’t even know you could make,

and he was barely getting started.

[adrenaline-roulette]

Thinking It's about time I get back into some writing.... It's been FAR too long..

Does anyone have any requests? Y'all know what I write usually, but if you pull my leg enough, I'll try writing for anything!

I'll try and update some of my WIPs too, but wanna dip my toes in first sorry!

[nyctoheart]

these two do not have nearly enough fan art on tumblr I'm!!!!!

this until dawn remaster is making me ship sam/josh ......

[changbunnies]

Danse Macabre (18+)

♡ Pairing: Rich Serial Killer!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: loosely house on haunted hill inspired, vaguely 1950s au, horror themes, dark romance, smut, dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :')

♡ Word Count: 3.9k

♡ Summary: The handsomely wealthy Christopher Bang and his wife are holding an overnight party at the house on Haunted Hill, and the rules are simple– stay the entire night, and $100,000 is their guest's to take; but little do the guests know that their hosts don't intend to let them leave.

♡ General Warnings: this is a serial killer au! do not read if you aren't prepared to read about death + murder + blood + injury! (i personally think i kept the descriptions tame and mild but everyone has different opinions so just use ur discretion and don't interact if you think you may be bothered by anything listed !), chan is referred to as chris, reader is very complicit in his crimes, they're a sick and twisted couple i fear!

♡ Smut Warnings: hybristophilia (i.e chan being a killer turns reader on), smut begins with chan talking about killing reader (intended to be strictly roleplay because he knows it excites them, but ur free to read it as him being serious if ur freaky like that lol), heavy usage of pet names (darling, my love, princess, sweetheart, dear), dom/sub dynamics, rough and a lil mean dom!chan, big dick chan because it's hot!, hair pulling, knife kink (but without a knife actually being used), corruption kink (not in the traditional way), tiny bit of nipple play, oral (m rec), facefucking, choking (on cock :) ), dacryphilia, manhandling, mirror sex, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: welcome to the first of my late kinktober fics ! this fic is loosely inspired by the opening scenes of the 1959 house on haunted hill movie, which is why the setting is vaguely 1950s!, this is the darkest fic i've tried my hand at writing, but i'm also a very big horror fan so writing this was very fun for me even tho it's not the genre i typically write for!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

"Darling, the guests are arriving. You must get ready," your husband, Christopher, emphasizes as he steps into the master bedroom you'll be occupying for the evening.

You're sitting at the room's vanity, all of your hair pulled to one side as you finish drying it after your long, relaxing bath. The scent of lavender bath oil and citrus shampoo linger over you– scents brought with you from home because you absolutely refuse to use the luxurious room's complimentary soap; no offense intended to the housekeepers who provided it, of course.

You look sweet as ever in your dainty little pastel blue babydoll gown, your robe delicate and sheer, hanging down off your shoulder and bunching at your elbows. You glance at Chris through the vanity mirror as you begin to comb your hair and free it of any leftover tangles, meeting his gaze with a smile.

"What's the rush, my love? Is it not customary to be late to a party?" Chris chuckles as he steps closer, runs his hand over your shoulder and down your spine as he leans down to kiss the top of your head. "Normally I'd agree with you. But this is your party, princess. You should greet your guests."

He's right, of course– today is your birthday, and he booked the entire mansion, as well as invited all the guests, at your behest. Christopher is the old money sort– a millionaire from a long line of millionaires before him. And because of that, your party comes with a fun gimmick– survive a night in the haunted mansion, and earn an easy hundred thousand dollars.

Assuming each guest successfully lasts until dawn, that's $700,000 for your husband to pay out– but that's no worry! That's still only chump change to a man as wealthy as Chris– and besides all that, no one's going to last until morning anyways; you're certain of that.

Naturally, as having a haunted house party was your idea, the venue was your choice– and the eerie mansion that sits lonesome upon Haunted Hill was the perfect pick. You've always found it strikingly beautiful from the outside, dreamed of one day stepping inside and drinking in all its Victorian charm.

It's certainly lived up to your expectations– and you're sure Chris will buy it for you if you express to him just how much you adore it; he'd buy you the entire world if you asked him to. For now, it's good enough that he rented it out for your sinister party.

You doubt the mansion is actually haunted– you don't put much stock in the stories of ghosts and ghouls that gave this hill its nickname; but it's a fun little tale, and you don't mind playing into it for the sake of a fun time. And it certainly helps make your party's tag line of "survive the night!" more inconspicuous.

"They're all strangers, sweetheart– I don't think they'll mind if I'm a little late," you tell him with a coy little smile as you set your comb back down on the vanity, satisfied with the condition of your freshly washed hair. He returns your smile with a mischievous one of his own, an amused glint in his eye.

"And remind me, darling, why it is that we've rented this house and invited a bunch of strangers to your party," Chris says as he leans down further, his breath fanning your ear. You giggle, almost innocently– though both of you know you're more than just complicit in his endeavors; you actively fuel them, his sadistic princess.

"You know why, my love," you reply, and to anyone else your smile would seem pure, almost angelic– but Christopher knows better. He knows that his kills excite you– perhaps even more than they excite him. He grabs a fist full of your freshly tamed hair, grins at the gasp you let out when he pulls your head back.

"And this is really what you want for your birthday? To see me stick my knife into someone's neck? To have me return to this room covered head to toe in their blood?" he questions as he looms over you now, but the answer is clear as it always is. He sees the way your thighs squeeze together, sees how the desire darkens your eyes– you’re sick; but that’s what he loves most about you.

"I could kill you too, you know. Take my knife right along your skin, just like this," he says as he runs a finger over one side of your neck to the other, gentle but purposeful in demonstration. Your breath hitches as you squirm in your seat, unable to turn your eyes away from him as he tightens the grip on your hair.

"But you wouldn't," you breathe, and Chris smiles, sweet and sinister as his eyes narrow at you, just how you like it. "Are you certain, dear? Do you think me incapable?" 

"I think you love me, as I love you," you answer, eyes starting to water from the sting of his tug on your scalp. "I love that you trust me," he replies as he trails his finger down, over your collarbones and to your chest. His fingers play with the dainty lace of your gown for just a moment before he slides his hand inside, cupping your breast in his large palm.

"I bet you wouldn't even bat a lid if I touched you with my knife here," he continues as he brushes his thumb over your hardening nipple, "you'd actually like it, wouldn't you, my love? Feeling the cold steel here, knowing I could easily cut you if I wanted to?" You whine, try to nod your head though his grip prevents it– all you can do is answer with a meek "yes" instead. 

"Speak up, darling. I'm afraid I couldn't hear you," he says with an expectant look that sends a shiver down your spine. Chris indulges your every desire, gives you everything in the world you want– so in the moments like these, in which when he asks something of you, you listen.

"Yes! I'd like it!" you answer, as loud and clear as you can bring your voice to be. Chris smiles, the sweet one he always gives you when you listen to him well, with his handsome dimples on display– a stark contrast from the darkness in his gaze. He releases his grip on your hair, cups your face and rubs his thumb over your cheek as he kisses you, greedy and deep. 

You always manage to get him hot; all it takes is a few simple words and that sweet gaze of yours to get him worked up– always the picture perfect image of innocence, pretty smiles and soft gazes that hide the depravity lingering beneath. So coy and demure, batting your lashes and acting like you don’t know at all what he does in the dead of night, acting like it doesn’t make your stomach twist– not with fear, but with desire.

Chris always sees through your act– he knows you. But he won’t pretend he doesn’t like it– the fun little game you share, where you gasp in faux surprise when he enters the room drenched in a new victim's blood, where your voice trembles and eyes well with tears when he grabs you hard, kisses you deep as the blood coating him transfers to your skin, sharing it with you.

And your answer now– whether it’s part of the game, or you truly would like feeling his knife cutting your pristine, unsullied skin, it doesn’t matter. He meant it when he said he loves that you trust him; and he loves that you wanted this. That all you wanted for your birthday was this party– to see him at his most unleashed, to indulge in the most sinful fun you could share as a couple. 

You never say what he is out loud– don’t call him a monster, a murderer, or a killer. You always dance around it, play innocent, though it’s obvious enough that you know the truth; and that’s more than enough for Chris. In fact, he prefers it this way; he likes to pretend he’s ruining your innocence, likes to pretend he’s a corrupting influence in your pure, perfect world, likes to pretend he’s ruining you.

Maybe in a way, he is– maybe you were a good girl before you found out his secret, maybe catching him in the act changed you, and maybe he’s dragging you down to hell with him by sharing this part of his life with you. Regardless, he loves what you have together– and he’ll keep playing this dangerous game with you, even if it ends in both your demise.

You melt into his kiss, as you always do– his lips, so plump and soft, always feel so perfect when they’re pressed against yours. You open your mouth for him the moment you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip, and he hums pleasantly as he slips his tongue in your mouth. It’s not the most slow or sensual kiss you’ve ever shared– rather, it’s needy, passionate and urgent.

Chris smiles at you again when he pulls away, enjoying the sparkle beholden in your eyes as you stare up at him. “Open your mouth for me, darling,” he says as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip. You do as instructed, the obedient thing you are for him, and he grins as he sticks his thumb inside your mouth. 

You wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it after he rests it against your tongue. “Oh, my love– you already knew what to do, didn’t you? Always know just what I want, yeah?” You hum as you nod, staring up at him oh so enticing and pretty. “You’ll suck my cock just like that, won’t you?” he continues, biting his lip to suppress a laugh when you eagerly nod and hum once more.

He removes his thumb from your mouth with a pop, hurries with undoing his belt and pulling his cock out of his trousers. His cock is mesmerizing, as always– so long and thick, with pretty veins and a leaking tip; but you aren’t given any time to idly sit and admire it. He wraps your hair around his fist, forces you to take his cock in your mouth all at once.

You choke and sputter as his cock presses against the back of your throat, your nose meeting his pubic bone in a flash, the neatly trimmed hair there tickling your skin. You can’t pull your head back with his grip forcing you down– but you wouldn’t dream of trying anyways; this is what he wants, and he'll have it.

Eyes watering, you do your best to relax your jaw and throat, to suck him just the way he likes, with your tongue massaging his veins. It’s a struggle to breathe through your nose, unprepared for his cock as you were– and it’s not until your eyes are dimming and head is swimming from the lack of oxygen that he pulls you back to let you take a breath.

It’s harsh, lungs positively burning as you take deep, heaving breaths. “Oh, I’m sorry, darling. Was that too much for you?” he asks, but his tone lacks its usual sincerity. “Chris–” you cry his name weakly after taking another breath, a few of the stray tears lingering on your lids finally spilling over as you blink. 

“My dear,” he cuts you off, forcing his cock past your lips once more, using the leverage of his grip on your hair to once again push your head down on him, making you take his length into your mouth until you choke on it.

“You weren’t going to complain, were you? No, I know you wouldn’t do that,” he says, voice wavering ever so slightly, breathier from the pleasure your mouth gives him. “Because I give you everything you want. Everything I do is for you– so you’ll let me use you, yeah?”

He’s right again, of course– you wouldn’t dream of complaining, of depriving him of what he wants from you. And you both know this is far from the limit of what you can take, but as with everything else, he likes when you pretend for him. When you cry and weakly try to protest, half hearted utterances of “too much!” or “I can't!” as tears roll down your cheeks– an act that always leaves him throbbing.

And Chris is good to you, always puts the entire world in the palm of your hands– so just as he says, you’ll thank him by letting him use you however he wants. You can’t nod your head, and any word you try to speak would be muffled and indecipherable– so you allow your jaw to go slack to show him you understand.

“Good, just like that,” he says as you lay your tongue flat, his praise a small kindness before he really lets loose. He easily controls your pace, yanks your hair back until only the tip of his cock remains in your mouth before shoving you back down to the base of it.

You try not to gag and choke, but most attempts go unsuccessful, more tears spilling from your eyes and drool spilling from the corners of your mouth with each full press of his length in your mouth. You can’t even feel the sting on your scalp anymore– all you can focus on is trying to breathe while he uses your mouth.

But all you can breathe is Chris, and he’s unforgiving in the way he moves you on his cock. You jaw quickly begins to ache, and every low groan that he releases is drowned out by the filthy sounds your mouth and throat create as you swallow around his cock.

He doesn’t let up until your vision darkens and blurs again, your nails digging into your own thighs as you try to hold out as long as possible. You gasp when he pulls you off his cock, heart pounding in your chest as the much needed air finally returns to your lungs.

You look up at Chris as he releases his grip on your hair, eyes lidded and hazy. He’s made a real mess of you– from the way his fingers have tousled your hair, to your freshly swollen lips, to the saliva that dripped down from your mouth to your chest. It’s pretty, really– so, so pretty; he almost wants to coo at you.

Instead, he strokes your cheek, offers you a look of faux sympathy– and you’re much too addled to realize he doesn’t mean it. You take the affection regardless of his intent, close your eyes and lean into his touch. You can hear him softly laugh, can easily imagine that smirk he must have on his face right now. 

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” Chris reminds you as he takes his hand away from your face. He grabs your arm, lifts you up from your chair and quickly turns you around, shoving everything resting on the vanity aside before he’s bending you over it. Your yelp of surprise is weak considering the abuse your throat just suffered, your hands lying flat as he presses you down against the hardwood. 

Your face smushes against the mirror, and how cold it is in contrast to how hot your face has become nearly makes you jolt. He shoves your panties to the side easily with his fingers, and you can hear him chuckle when you impatiently begin to squirm as he presses his cock against your dripping hole.

“Princess– stay still,” he says, and you can tell from his tone alone that it’s much more a demand than it is a request. You mutter a soft apology as you still your hips, and he waits a moment– waits to see if you’re going to move again before he acts. 

“Please,” you whine, make your desire to have his cock filling you up known, but ultimately don’t move. With a satisfied grin that you can just barely see on his face from your position against the mirror, he slowly, finally, starts to press his length inside your pussy.

He brings his hands to your hips, holds you as you begin to tremble from the feeling of his cock stretching you out. He doesn’t give you time to adjust– just squeezes your hips in his hands as he starts to fuck you from behind. “Oh, Chris– fuck,” you gasp, though it quickly becomes a moan. 

His cock feels so deep in this position, and it has your eyes rolling back with each motion of his hips into yours. “You’re so fucking wet, fuck–” he groans, his hands gripping you harder as he finds his rhythm. “Squeezing so tight– feels good, huh, princess? You like it when I fuck you like this?” 

“Yes, love it! Love you, love your cock, feels so good–” You cry, high pitched whimpers leaving you now as you try to nod your head, though its position against the mirror doesn’t make it easy. Chris groans again before he moves a hand to your hand, threads his fingers through your hair again to pull you back against him.

You reach backwards to support yourself, one of your hands clinging to his shirt while the other holds him behind the neck. “Look at yourself, darling. Look,” he says against your ear, and you focus your eyes on the mirror. You look at Chris through it first, take in the sight of the sweat dripping down his temple and the clench in his jaw as he fucks you. 

Your eyes travel down, met with the sight of your tits bouncing with each of his thrusts, threatening to spill out of your babydoll gown. Lower still, you watch as he takes his other hand off your hip, slides it past the hem of your gown to find your clit with his fingers. “Want you to watch yourself cum. Don’t stop looking,” he tells you, and you whine– it won’t be easy, but you’ll listen; you always do. 

He lets go of your hair, and is quick to wrap his arm around your body so that you don’t fall too far forward. You’re so wet that his fingers quickly become slick, and it makes his touch lack friction as they slide messily over your clit, but the feeling is still so delicious that you can’t complain. 

It’s so hard to maintain eye contact with your reflection, hard to prevent your eyes from rolling back whenever he hits your spot with his cock while playing with your clit, but you keep doing your best for him. He can feel you clenching harder as you continue to watch yourself unravel, feels your nails starting to dig into where they hold his neck.

“C’mon, love– cum for me, you can do it sweetheart,” Chris urges you, his voice soft and low in your ear. “I will! ‘m gonna– gonna cum for you!” you cry; and though you’d been doing so well, you can’t help but let your eyes roll back and close as you finally let go and gush on his cock. If it were a different day, he might scold you for not keeping your eyes open like he told you to– but it is your birthday today, so he’ll let it pass just this once. 

He pushes you back down onto the vanity as you ride out the last of your orgasm, face once again smushing against the mirror as he grabs your hands and holds them behind your back at the wrists, fucks you rough and deep as he chases his own release. You whimper and tremble, unable to escape the sensitivity you feel, or able to grip anything to ground yourself– all you can do is take it. 

“Can’t! Chris, please– I can't, t-too much, too much!” your voice warbles as you cry, the pleasure you feel overwhelming. “Yes you can,” he says as you writhe helplessly in his grasp, your fingers clenching into desperate fists where he holds them against your back. “You can take it, I know you can.”

You’re going to cum again, you know it– he doesn’t even have to touch your clit again to get you there, because the tip of his cock is kissing your spot so good that you’re seeing stars. You’re panting hard, your every breath fogging the mirror, your nails digging into your palms as Chris’ name leaves you in desperate, broken syllables. 

It’s not until you’re finished cumming around him for a second time that his pace finally begins to falter– he lets go of your wrists, squeezes your hips in his hands and thrusts once, twice more before his own high takes him. You whine as you feel his cum spurt deep inside, hot and sticky, leaving you perfectly full.

Chris takes just a moment to steady his breathing before he’s slipping out of you, hurrying to reach to the ground for the tissue box he previously knocked off the vanity. He grabs a tissue, cleans between your legs as gently as he can, though you still end up flinching just a bit.

He then readjusts your panties so they rest on you properly again, and helps you settle back into the vanity’s chair. He kisses you after tucking his softening length back in his trousers, glances in the mirror to make sure nothing else about his appearance is out of place before he has to return to your party.

“Was it good?” you ask earnestly as you look up at him, and he smiles at you, stroking your head sweetly. “Of course, my darling. You’re perfect, as always,” he tells you, and you beam, turning your head to kiss his hand before he takes it away. He glances over at the grandfather clock sitting in the corner of the room, laughs in disbelief when he notes the time. 

“Gosh, it’s almost midnight– we really must hurry,” he says, and you giggle, truly without a care in the world that you’ve kept your guests waiting. You turn back to vanity, pout as you take in your appearance– you were too far gone from lust to really realize just how debauched Chris made you, but now you truly see just how much you have to fix. 

“Christopher! You’ve ruined me!” you complain before looking around the floor for your comb. “Apologies, princess,” he chuckles, leaning down to pick up your comb for you once you’ve spotted it. He hands it to you, but doesn’t completely release his grip to let you take it until after you kiss him in thanks.

“Now then– I’ve got to go entertain our guests. But hurry, won’t you, darling? I wouldn’t want to start the real fun without you,” Chris says as he rests his hand on the knob of the bedroom door, and you smile as you look at him through the mirror, making quick work of fixing your hair. 

“Of course, my love. I wouldn’t miss my party for the world,” you tell him; and despite what he said, it’s not long until you hear the first shrill scream of the night. Dressed in your prettiest red dress and heels, you peek your head out of the bedroom door– and Chris stands there, knife in hand with blood speckled over his face.

“Sorry darling, didn’t have a choice,” he explains, and you giggle as you fully step out of the room, carefully stepping over the blood that decorates the floor to kiss him before shooing him away to continue. Your birthday party has fully kicked off now– and it’ll certainly be one to remember.

[sideeve]

⠀⠀⠀𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

alt text ✘ jjk men as lyrics from pyramids

contains ✘ fem!reader , satoru gojo , kento nanami , toji fushiguro , fingering , broke!toji , DOM!toji , cowgirl with nanami

announcement ✘ this is my 200th post on this account which is crazy because i thought i would've ditched this account by now. and a mini celebration for hitting 2.5k🥳 thank you so much. i know haven't been very active with the fan fictions and i appreciate the patience. thank you.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

" you showed up after work, i'm bathing your body

touching you in places only i know

you're wet and you're warm just like our bath water. "

the pool of warm water surrounded you and Gojo as he had you pressed up against his back. the pads of his fingers would glide up and down the meat of your thighs, beginning as chaste touches. the foaming of soap covering your breasts was enough to turn a switch in his brain, his length rising a bit.

you were in the midst of telling Gojo about your week until he interrupted you, kissing a trail up your neck before mumbling "you're so beautiful." his fingers drop down a level, meeting your inner thighs. he knew you enough to know it's not just the wet water he's feeling.

he turns your head you him, taking your lip to his as he plunges two fingers into you, taking your moan in his mouth. his unoccupied hand gently glides up to your breast, two fingers pinching and rolling around your nipple.

"so pretty." he whispers before plunging his tongue into your mouth, leaving no crevice undiscovered. he had a habit of making you melt under his touch. he was a natural at this point--he was amazing at it.

Gojo felt your walls pulsate around his digits, giving signs of your release being close. he chuckles, "not yet, baby."

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

" the way you say my name makes me feel like i'm that nigga

but i'm still unemployed. "

the headboard continuously rocked against the wall, creating mini cracks in the walls as Toji pounded himself in you. one moment you were complaining about him not having a real job, and the next, you were chanting his name like a mantra. "Toji!" you whine. the side of your face was pressed down on the mattress, your back arched, giving him more space for his cock to explore.

"that's it, baby." he groans, his head hanging low, watching as he disappears inside of you. "fuck." a hand strikes against your ass, your bottom recoiling. your body leans forward, moving away from where Toji's hips met yours.

"don't run away, girl." he chuckles. his large hands grip both sides of your hips, pulling you right back on his length. you squeal, the pleasure becoming overwhelming.

"please!" you sob. your hands reach back to push Toji off you. he takes both of your wrists and holds them into an X behind your back. now you have nowhere to run. "just fucking take it."

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

" you say it's big but you take it.

ride, cowgirl. "

the sounds of Nanami's frequent grunts and moans and your slick covering his length filled the room. you needed a sexual release and the toys just weren't doing it.

you needed your husband. your husband who would only come home at the asscrack of dawn just to restart the same routine. as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. it also makes the body grow hornier.

the pace you rode was unbearable. he's never seen such intensity from you. he wasn't complaining either, he loved to see you on top of him. it saved him the worry of hurting.

"fuck." you bit your lip, leaning forward. your hands were pressed against his chest, propping yourself. Nanami's hands wander up your hips, helping you out a bit as he could sense that you were tired. "i missed you," you whisper, leaning down to plant a kiss on his. he moans at the contact, chasing after you as you pull away. "i'm make sure this i'll never leave you this needy."

[moltengoldveins]

What? oh it’s nothing just the crippling grief of watching a nineteen year old abuse victim with a barely-functioning support system and a manipulative father figure try his absolute hardest to give the child he was unwillingly saddled with something resembling childhood by making war a game. Because he doesn’t have any other ideas. It’s just the slow horror of her wonder and innocence dimming over time. It’s just how her childishness was portrayed not as the good and right nature of her age, but a liability on the battlefield. Not only that, but her childhood personality was actively loathed by us, the fans watching, because it was annoying. Have you ever met a fourteen year old who wasn’t annoying? It’s the dawning realization that none of us liked Ahsoka much until she’d had her innocence seared out by blaster fire. It’s the shame of knowing that we saw her slow painful slide into loss and suffering as growth, as development into something more palatable, less bothersome, more mature for her age. Because it’s fiction, and fiction doesn’t need to be realistic, just entertaining, and we’d never look at a Real Kid that way. It’s just the knowledge that anakin was a slave with a slave mother until he was nine, and at nine spoke with the gravity and wry wit of someone who has witnessed hell. It’s that he was married with a child at nineteen, crouched in the dirt bloody as bombs shot overhead and his little sister tried not to cry in his arms and his men died without hope beside him, and would stay that way for three years.

They stop keeping score a few seasons in. I don’t remember when. They stop because it wouldn’t work anymore, it wouldn’t be funny. We wouldn’t find it funny. Games can’t make war fun when you aren't a child.

[dahliascophin]

Starting with Ko-fi, and if all goes well and i start getting more requests or tips i will make that insta by the end of this week!

if i were to make a little instagram and ko-fi would anyone want to tip or be friends at all?

[mirrored-movements]

The Real World

(Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader)

Synopsis: Earth 1218, a place where superheroes and supervillains were nothing but mere fiction- however with the current rise in multidimensional travel- who's to say someone can't get stuck in another place?

Warnings: None, maybe bad writing again Idk

It’d been a long day in your opinion, work was draining, people were draining- everything was draining.

You had to fight the urge to collapse in the entryway hall of your apartment upon entering trying to roll yourself to at least change into some comfortable clothes. At least you had the rest of the week off- the plus side of taking over some extra shifts you supposed.

Quickly peeling off your uniform and tossing it across the room you dawned some random loungewear set; finding yourself quickly tucked within the corner of your couch. Eyes sleepily watching the brightly coloured movie Netflix had recently added.

“Is he voiced by Nicolas Cage?” Murmuring to yourself while watching the monochromatic character speak you let out a sigh. The newest addition to the series had come out not too long ago and in your opinion, it was one of the best movies of the year.

Sucks that you’d have to wait a year for part two, but at least there was a plethora of fan content surfing the internet. Specifically edits and art of your favorite character,

Miguel O’Hara. What a man. 

Shaking your head a little at the thought of simping for a 2D character when you were less than capable of keeping a conversation with a real person had you laughing to yourself.

The picture presumably coming off as crazy if you had a roommate or anyone else staying in your apartment, however, it was just you.

Beginning to doze off once again, your eyes barely took in the sight of King pins collider on screen. The bright light of the screen illuminated your entire apartment as though a spotlight had been shining into the room.

The sound of metal clashing against something grated against your ears- you didn't recall having surround sound let alone speakers hooked up to your TV, and why was it so damn bright.

To your relief, the light began to die down, although contrary to the peace and quiet you’d have you were unexpectedly shoved back alongside your couch.

You and the large piece of furniture flipping onto its back skidding across the hardwood floors only stopping once it'd crashed into your dining room set.

Eyes wide and brain startlingly awake now compared to a few second ago you shot up only to duck as a metal pole? Weapon?

No no, it was moving it was moving a lot.

A metal claw had seemingly embedded itself into the wall, the base of it extending in an array of wires inevitably connecting to- the back of a person?

If you weren’t in a state of shock at the moment you were sure your brain could process things better- however between the metal tendrils and claws flying around your apartment and the other sudden intruder clinging to the ceiling- you didn’t think you’d ever recover.

The scuffle they had began to grow one-sided, the other individual who you haven’t quite gotten a good view seemingly winning the fight.

Well, at least you thought they were until the other swung their tendrils around once again, knocking the stranger into the wall where the dining set had been shoved into.

“I had fun really. But I must be going. Tests to run and, other heroes to deal with.” With an almost condescending wave, the perpetrator had opened what you could only describe as a bright orange doorway, their form disappeared just as quickly as the person beside you had shot up.

An irritated yell left them upon being unable to catch the doorway, their tall form standing almost eerily in your living room all the while growing increasingly more annoyed as the watch wrapped around their wrist failed to work in the way they wanted it to.

Careful this time around to peek over the flipped couch your mouth nearly fell open at the illuminated red and blue suit, the man's voice loudly filling the apartment. “Lyla! Lyla, can you hear me? Anyone- Damn it!”

Growing more aggravated he couldn’t help but begin aggressively tapping the face of his watch, only to result in nothing.

A few more low complaints left him before he sucked in a breath beginning to assess the room. The apartment was trashed thanks to his recent fight, however, that didn’t catch his attention quite as much as the sight of you peering over the edge of your flipped couch.

“You,” pointing an almost accusing finger he’d sucked in a breath trying to make his next words less intimidating despite the irritation he felt. “Where am I?”

The question was simple, something he should’ve known however circumstances proved otherwise.

Almost surprised he’d noticed your presence your mouth felt dry, however despite the way your heart thumped and your brain buzzed you answered. 

“Earth. 1218 if you want specifics.”

The eyelets of his mask seemed to widen a little at that, his attention moving around the room once again falling upon the surprisingly still-playing movie. The scene where everyone had joined together to fight the main bad guy to be exact.

Unmoving from your spot you waited for his response, nerves still buzzing and palms beginning to sweat.

Remaining quiet he raised a hand rubbing at the bridge of his nose, the head of his suit gradually disappearing until untamed brown hair was revealed. “This,” trying to figure out what he wanted to ask his head turned back to you, his eyes boring into you. “Actually no. You, know me? Yes?”

Nodding your head in response it seems like that didn’t quite give him any reassurance, so instead you spoke. “You’re Miguel O’Hara, Spider-Man 2099.” Finding yourself processing things a little better you'd added a comment. “But the Across the Spider-verse version.”

Nodding his head his hands crossed over one another, the man began to pace back and forth a little in thought.

He couldn’t believe it- out of millions of universes- he was stuck in the one where Alchemax didn’t exist.

Great.

“Was that Doctor Octopus? Or I mean one of them?”

Hearing you speak up once more his gaze moved to meet yours, a hand raising to address you. “That shouldn’t concern you.”

“Ok well if it doesn’t concern me, then why is my apartment trashed and why are you standing in my living room?”

Finding it in you to chime back right after you went to stand only to duck back down behind the couch realizing that the shirt you’d happen to throw on was a printed copy of the man’s suit.

Continuing to stare down at you his jaw clenched, arms coming to overlap one another. 

Miguel had decided to ignore your input for the moment speaking as though he didn’t care for property damage. “Do you have a computer I could use?”

It was a simple question however with a nod you’d hesitant stood up again, this time snagging the blanket you previously had on to hide your attire. “Yeah…it’s uh over here.” 

A bit wary of passing the man your eyes casted across him, a part of you wanting to engrave each detail into your mind while another part still had a tough time dealing with the situation.

He was so much taller than you’d thought- buffer too and much much more intimidating. 

Following with quiet steps Miguel took in the rest of your apartment- quaint really. A little clutter here and there but he supposed it just gave the place some character.

“It’s a bit old but…” “This’ll be fine.” Cutting in Miguel had stepped in through the doorway you held open, large form sticking out like a sore thumb against the small guest room where you’d stuck a computer and desk, trying your best at making an office.

“Password is 2099.” At this point, you could feel exhaustion begin to creep in once more, the adrenaline felt earlier wearing down. “If you need anything I guess just uh call?” 

You really should’ve thought everything out a little more, however, perhaps this was some strange dream and you’d really just passed out at work. 

Either way, you were certain things were going to be fine by tomorrow morning.

---

Waking up and walking towards the main area of your apartment you barely concealed a yawn, tired eyes briefly drifting across the room seeing that the couch was in its usual spot, as was the rest of your furniture.

However, despite wanting to believe everything was a figment of your imagination- the dents in the wall and the man currently staring out the window told you otherwise. From the neck down his suit seemed to still be present, while his face remained free of the costume.

“Morning?” Finding yourself growing nervous once you’d come to the acceptance of a fictional character standing within your apartment, you remained observing him from a distance, sock-clad feet shuffling towards the kitchen where you tapped your fingers among the counter. “Did you want like a coffee or something?”

Taking in a deep breath Miguel's gaze looked towards where you stood through the reflection in the window, eyes sharp yet his form was less ridged than it was the night prior. “How likely is it that I get recognized here.”

The question was simple, something he could guess the answer to given the circumstances however it didn’t exactly hurt to get an outsider's perspective. He’d spend nearly the entire night looking into resources that could possibly help only to come up upon practically nothing.

He was basically on his own here.

Having made a fresh pot of coffee you’d poured two mugs in case the man decided he wanted something, your hands coming to curve around your own as you pondered over the question. Eyes trailing across his back for a second finding that the cartoony and animated look he had yesterday didn’t seem to stick and that he appeared more lifelike- or well, human-like in the sense that someone could just think he was a cosplayer or something along those lines.

“I wouldn’t say that likely?” Watching him turn around from his spot, the man regarded you with an inquisitive gaze, one that practically told you he was trying to gauge what kind of a person you were. “But don’t you have to get back to- you know?”

Seeing the way he noted the implication you were a little surprised as the man began nearing, the wrist that his watch had been wrapped around being lifted above the counter in clear view for you to see. “Do you see this?” With his other hand, he motioned towards what appeared to have been some sort of rust, the corner of the glass screen beginning to become chipped away. “Nanobots. They’re going to keep eating the exterior and interior until nothing is left.”

Now, there was a part of him that didn’t really want to divulge in any information with you- a part of his brain feeling like he should be guarded instead knowing that you knew more about him then he did about you. 

It rubbed him the wrong way- But, it was also a common thing in this universe, so he couldn’t fault you there. If he wanted to get back and deal with things he’d have to make a new watch entirely from scratch, and if he had to do that he needed someone who knew their way around considering he was now pretty much left with only the bare minimum of information around your world.

Earth 1218 wasn’t particularly a place he wanted to be stuck in nor really pay attention to. A fault on his end he will admit.

“So? What are you planning to do?” Hesitant to ask more questions you tried to read the blank look set out across his face, the man’s brows faintly furrowing all the while he’d ended up silently accepting the other mug of coffee you’d made.

A small win in your books.

“I need to build a new one.” Answering simply he stared over the rim of the mug as he took a sip, brown hues boring into your skull as if tempting you to speak.

“And what is your plan there?”

At this point it’s not like telling you wouldn’t hurt, heroes didn’t exist in your world and neither did villains so he supposed the random civilian whose apartment he’d landed in at least deserved at least some explanation. 

“Since the portal opened up in your apartment the interdimensional specks are still present here, they can be utilized to open a new doorway through a catalyst where one will open temporarily back to where the original one had opened up- which was my dimension.” Quickly explaining that he finished looking over your slightly confused look before letting out a sigh, the mug briefly being set onto the counter. 

“When you start a barbeque you turn on the propane first right?” You gave a nod and he continued, “Then you use the sparker to light the propane.” He paused letting you absorb his example, the man right after using his hands to gesture around as if he were talking to a child. “The propane is like the specks and the catalyst is the sparker.”

“Do the specks ever leave?”

“I don’t know,” Finding that he himself didn’t have an answer to that he let out a breath, hand beginning to tap along the countertop. 

“But this is why I need to move fast.”

---

Now, it wasn’t that you didn't want to help Miguel- quite the contrary you were elated to have been able to help him. However, he still was one of your biggest fictional crushes and currently, you’d both been crammed within the confines of your small car. A glimmer of regret sparked across your expression upon realizing how strange the music on your phone was as well as how much of a fan you actually were.

So embarrassing.

Despite your clearly tense form, he seemed rather calm. Eyes taking in as much as they could all the while running his fingers across the civilian clothes he’d swapped into. He trusted your reassurance of people not being able to recognize him, the small mirror within your apartment becoming an item of interest as he noted the change in his appearance.

It was very strange. 

“So do you like, have a mental list of what you need? Or are we just going to walk in blind?” Willing yourself to break the silence you’d pulled into the parking lot of a department store, something you assumed would have at least some of the things that Miguel would need.

“I have a general idea. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Great.” Finding yourself still sitting in the car despite having parked it you watched Miguel slip out through your peripheral, the man’s tall frame stepping away from the car only to pause.

Was…wait, was he waiting for you?

As if realizing this, you scrambled to collect your things quickly slipping out of the car and locking it behind you. Your shoes tapped against the cement as you’d caught up with the brunette coming to walk an arm's length away.

Stepping into the store you’d moved to grab a cart, arms folding over the handles as you trailed behind your newly three-dimensional companion. His sharp gaze scanning each and everything occasionally seeing something of interest into the cart.

“What is the most recent thing that was invented here?” Glancing back at where you leisurely strolled behind him Miguel watched as his voice had caused you to jump slightly, attention trailing away from whatever was on your mind.

“Probably VR? That’s I think the most recent thing. No flying cars or anything like that here- too much of a liability really if you think about it. People are stupid.”

Unsure of what to really take from that answer he couldn’t help but let out a low snort, head shaking from one side to the other in a sort of agreement towards your ‘people are stupid’ bit.

Conversation after that seemed to come a bit easier, the topic ranging from either of you asking a question to the other or just something else mundane.

It wasn’t really much longer till the two of you were back in your apartment, bags in hand filled with miscellaneous items that may or may not help with Miguel's current situation. It didn’t take long for both of you to part; you mentioned how you were going to patch up the holes left in the wall and Miguel just motioning towards your office which at this point had become his temporary residence.

At least for the time being. Only time would tell how long he would be stuck there.

---

“A hologram, it’s a hologram.”

“No, it’s UMF, not a hologram. Unstable Molecule Fabric.”

“But is it actually fabric? I haven't read the comics.” Starring almost too intently down at Miguel's arm that was still clad in his suit you spared him a glance, the tips of your ears nearly burning off at the ‘are you kidding?’ look he’d given.

“If it were fabric I’d tear through it anytime I needed to use these.” Raising his hand small claw-like spikes rose from the pads of his fingers, something you’d nearly forgotten alongside the fact he had fangs.

It’d been about three days since his initial appearance, and a watch prototype was steadily being made however despite the many protests on his end you were able to convince the man to take a break here and there.

Just like a regular person he still needed to eat and sleep and whatnot, and with nobody else there to remind him- namely Lyla, you were the only person left.

He was aggravated about it when you’d first done it, however, the retort of ‘making up for the damage to my apartment’ was what kept his annoyance at bay- he did feel bad at this point for the amount of damage that was caused despite not really caring when it first happened.

You’d been quite helpful- not in the same sense as another spider-person or Lyla but in the sense of a personified conscience.

That and he found it amusing sometimes how you’d often try to hide whatever spider-themed merchandise you had. The look of shock and embarrassment was written across your face when he’d found a mug with the same design as his mask was nearly priceless.

In a comedic sense of course- you were, entertaining.

As if snapping back to reality he retracted the claws, shaking his head a bit-Focus. “I need to get back to working on the device.”

“Alright. You know where to find me if you need me.” Musing that out knowing that he was eager to get back to work you watched him spare you a nod, form disappearing back into the hallway where you’d only see him emerge from once every few hours.

If that guy could work himself to death you’d bet he would.

---

Emerging from the room he’d been in Miguel let out a breath, his watch was still gradually deteriorating while the watch he’d been working on seemed at least a quarter of the way done-there were so many things he still had to do, and had to fix before he could even try and open up a gate.

Raising a hand and running it through his hair he let out a breath, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the lack of light in the apartment spotting the gentle glow of the living room TV. Glancing towards the end of the hall where your room had been he could see that the door was open and nobody was inside leading him to assume you’d been curled up on the couch as he’d noted you often did.

There were a few things you did that he found himself unwillingly taking note of. One of the few being how you always nestled yourself into the very corner of the couch when watching a show or movie, or- as of recently how whenever you brewed coffee or tea that you’d made a second cup.

Quietly trekking through the hallway and into the main room another sigh left him upon seeing the way you’d fallen asleep, three thoughts beginning to conflict one another within the confines of his brain as he’d waited to see if you were indeed asleep.

Which you were.

Muttering under his breath in another language he trailed a little closer; on one hand he should just wake you up and remind you of the last time you’d fallen asleep on the couch and had complained for the whole day. However on another hand, he felt like the sight brought some comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Most of the interaction with you brought some sort of strange comfort- something he tried his damnedest to ignore in favor of dealing with his current circumstances. He knew Lyla for sure would be either teasing or harping on him for whatever reason.

Weighing all his options he seemed to just give in, the man's frame looming before you as he’d leaned down to stick his arms under your curled-up frame, the blanket you had coming along as he’d hauled you up silently.

What was he thinking-

A low hum in what he could only describe as content left you, cheek leaning to the side against him as he’d marched down the hall coming to lean over the surface of your bed where he set you down. Gaze softening only a little as he’d puffed out a breath through his nose.

“Stop it O’Hara.” Remarking that to himself he’d turned on his heel, head shaking from side to side. 

“You have your priorities.”

---

Waking up nestled within the warm covers of your bed wasn’t the first thing that roused you from sleep- no no, the thing that roused you was the mug currently being held in front of your sleeping form. Mouth dry and hair a mess.

“Morning.”

Blinking a few times at the greeting you stared up at Miguel in suspicion, heart thumping softly at how the morning sun that’d crept through your curtains illuminated his defined features.

“Did you- is the watch finished?” Noting how he donned civilian clothes instead of his suit you blinked a few more times trying to figure out why there was this feeling of missing something.

“Almost.” Answering easily he moved to lean against the side of your doorframe, brown hues regarding you with a mix of undecipherable emotions. “Your neighbour came knocking on your door this morning.”

Having taken a sip from your mug you nearly choked at what he’d said, knowing that no matter which neighbour it was that they were nosy as hell. 

“And you didn’t come get me? What did they want?”

At that, you swore you could see the edge of his lip twitch up, shoulder pushing off the doorframe. “She said to keep it quiet. There's kids in the building.”

Setting your drink to the side you flung the covers of your bed over your face, a sort of muffled groan coming out. That was so embarrassing they must’ve gotten the wrong impression by all the noise when the fight had happened- oh god that- as if coming to a realization you flung the sheets back down. “And what did you say?!”

“I apologized,” In the moment he wasn’t sure what exactly to say, attention focused on how you were nearly at the edge of your seat in anticipation awaiting the response- face faintly flushed. “And told her we’d keep it down.”

Why did he say that? He wasn’t sure, it was out of character a bit but the reaction it got out of you made the response all the better.

Maybe, just maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get to know you properly.

---

As he’d mentioned the watch was finished within a few days. The device now sitting silently ontop of the desk; the plan of using it later being written off for the time being.

In those days you’d taken note of the slight banter that’d happen between yourself and Miguel. Things seemingly becoming more friendly despite the situation and you couldn’t help but be more than enthused about it.

“You want to see some of my favourite places?” Taken aback by the request you stated at him in a mix between disbelief and surprise. “I thought you had to go back as soon as possible?”

“I do, but the window to open a gate is open better around the time it was last time- so late in the evening.” 

Whether that was an excuse or not was up to you to discern.

Pursing your lips together you continued to stare at him inquisitively. “Ok well, uh we could go check out this market? I don’t know how good it is now since I haven’t been able to go in years.”

“If that’s where you’d like to go.”

Side eyeing him once more you nodded lightly, beginning to round up what you needed before the two of you had quickly set off.

The cars atmosphere quiet until he’d spoken. “When all this first happened. What did you think?”

Perhaps it was the inevitability of him having to leave that spurred the question on or had led him to become more open- but nonetheless the question was something he’d grown curious about.

When you’d first met he could tell you were in a state of shock, whether from the fight or from his appearance didn’t matter. Your answers were thought out and yet he recalled how you’d walked around him at a distance, keeping that distance until later on. Disbelief is what he chalked it up to however he was also partially to blame on the distance.

“Well, I thought I was crazy- of course who wouldn’t. I thought maybe it was some weird vivid dream.” Your fingers began to tap softly against the steering wheel. “Also you’re like really intimidating, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Self awareness is the key to happiness.” Pulling into the parking lot outside of where the little market was you quickly popped out, excitement gradually brewing within you.

Shaking his head he himself stepped out of the car, moving to trail behind you as you begun maneuvering through the varying stalls. Little hand carved and hand made trinkets covered each table, the person standing behind sparing those who’d passed by a kind smile.

It was so calm over here- in this world. Compared to really anything he had to deal with. 

“Miguel-“ Brown hues warmly trailed towards where you had emerged from, the man unknowingly having spaced out for a second enough for you to disappeared and come back. “Give me your hand.”

“Why?”

“Just- hold it out for me come on, this is your last day here.” Putting your own had up and trying to coax him to do the same you quickly moved to lace your hand with his once he’d complied, your other hand moving a bracelet from your wrist across your hands onto his.

“There.” Pulling your hand back your face flushed a little at the stoic look he had, eyes fixed on the small accessory. “I tried to pick something that sits flat for you and doesn’t look particularly flashy.”

As you’d mentioned it wasn’t particularly flashy, the design of it was just a collection of chevrons wrapping around the length of his wrist made up of some sort of grey stone.

Forcing a cough into his hand his face turned to the side. “Thank you.”

That small show of gratitude nearly had you bouncing off the ground. A smile that could probably rival the sun bloomed across your face.

“I’m glad you like it, it’s just a little something to remind me by.”

“You’re not that immemorable.”

It seemed like a slight changing of tide after that, the both of your resuming your little stroll through the stalls bringing up some meaningless conversation.

It felt like, now that everything was coming to an end you’d never felt more at home. Thinking back on it you quite enjoyed Miguel’s company, not just in the ‘you were my fictional crush kind of way’ but in the way that a domestic couple would- as much as you wouldn’t say that out loud.

That sort of companionship was something your heart yearned for however it just showed you that fate was a cruel thing- maybe this was your canon event.

Reaching the unattainable and being doomed to fall.

—-

“And you’re sure this won’t blow up my apartment or something?”

“It might?”

“That is not comforting at all.” Rolling your eyes in return at his answer you remained slightly ducked behind the couch while Miguel stood where he first did when he first arrived.

The watch he previously wore was stripped away, the corroded metal being too far gone to savage and in its place was the missmash of parts that made up what you could only assume was the new one.

Watching him tap a few things onto it you couldn’t help but call out, “Miguel,” Turning briefly to show you had his attention you continued. “Thanks.”

“For?”

Your lips curled into a faint smile, “not being a product of my psychosis.”

His lips quirked up at this, head shaking as a low airy laugh left him. A sort of melancholic look crossing his face as he tapped a few more things among his watch, a spark of orange gradually beginning to grow until a portal had opened up. “See you around (Y/N).”

Nodding his way you couldn’t help but wish the portal hadn’t opened up in the frist place- but it did and just as quickly as it’d opened it closed leaving you on your own. 

An almost bitter laugh leaving your lips.

---

Weeks later you found yourself snuggled into the comfort of your bed, hand scrolling aimlessly across some edits. The sound of your phone barely did much in comparison to the quiet thrum of your apparement.

Despite knowing you’d be coming home to an empty apartment you couldn’t help but think deep in your heart that something might be different.

Nodding off a little your eyes barely took note of the light shining into your livingroom, the orange glow disappearing quickly.

Your brows furrowed at this, phone clutched tightly within your hand as you strained your ears to listen for anything. 

Nothing.

Slipping out from beneath the safety of your blankets your feet quietly padded their way down the hall, eyes struggling to adjust to the dark. Your hand followed the length of the wall, heart rate gradually beginning to speed up as you willed yourself to look into the livingroom.

Nothing.

Letting out a breath you tensed quickly as something had pressed against your eyes, your own hands reactively reaching up finding them wrapping around someone’s wrists. Their large hands being the reason for your current lack of vision.

The feeling of someone leaning over your shoulder had caused your nerves to spike, however once their spoke did your nerves spike for a different reason.

“Guess who?”

------------------

<Unedited>

[turtle-paced]

From the purely ‘hating fanfic being sold as original fiction’ perspective, does that only apply to things pretending not to be fanfic? Or only stuff that was ripped directly from fanfic websites and then published? For profit in general? Etc.

I just ask because I recently horrified a friend by calling things like ‘Pride and Prejudice and Zombies,’ ‘Murder at Pemberley,’ ‘Longbourn,’ etc high quality fanfiction. Because for all their merits it is work set in another author’s universe, featuring the same characters, written by fans of that original work.

Obviously 50 Shades is not even remotely as literary as those and doesn’t actually offer much new to the original work (other than sexual fantasies that reveal how little the author knows about consent and BDSM). But I’m still interested to hear your take on ‘scholarly accepted’ published works that are essentially openly fanfics.

Yeah, I think it's different when a) the OG author is long dead, b) the derivative works clearly acknowledge their fanfic status, and c) the creator of the derivative work gives a damn about its quality.

I'm a long-time fanfic writer and I truly do believe in the ability of fan writers and artists to bring new takes and worthwhile thoughts to the derivative works they build off what they freely acknowledge to be the original creation of someone else. But there's a difference between writing good fanfiction of an 1813 novel in the late 1900s and early 2000s, including licensed and commercially sold fanfiction, and ctrl + F "Bella" replace "Ana" in 2011 - when the second part of Breaking Dawn wasn't released in theatres until 2012.

[mimisempai]

A new dawn

Summary

Aziraphale had seen many sunrises, but the most beautiful was the one he shared with Crowley on that first day of vacation.

Day 2 : Sunrise

Notes

On Ao3

Rating G -  573 words

Aziraphale has seen many sunrises in its long life.

All over the world.

On occasions more or less happy, more or less sad.

Sometimes alone, sometimes with Crowley.

He especially treasured sunrises: no matter the time or place, a sunrise represents a new day. 

Another day to live. 

Proof that they had survived. 

Even if they were immortal.

He'd seen some magnificent ones, blazing brightly or appearing timidly behind the clouds.

But this morning, he thought that none was as beautiful as the one that was slowly appearing before his eyes at this very moment.

Maybe it was because it was the first one he'd looked at without worrying about the coming day.

Or because it was the first with Crowley, or rather in Crowley's arms. 

As the colors of nature around them grew more vibrant in the gradual brightening of the day, the angel leaned against the demon's chest as Crowley's arms tightened around his waist.

He knew he would never forget this sunrise.

It would be etched in his memory.

Like all his memories of moments shared with the demon.

The warmth of Crowley's body against him, the pressure of his chin on his shoulder, his breath on his neck, the smell of the sea air, the beauty before his eyes.

Like a canvas painted just for him.

A memory of shared happiness.

As the sun slowly rose over the sea on the horizon, Aziraphale murmured, "It's really beautiful."

Crowley hummed in response.

Aziraphale turned in Crowley's arms and said, "It really is, but do you know why?" he raised his hand to touch Crowley's cheek and continued, "It's because I share it with you."

He lifted his head and, pulling Crowley's face closer to his own, gently pressed his lips to his own.  Crowley immediately kissed him back eagerly. His lips were as warm as the arms that encircled Aziraphale, drawing him even closer.

The force of the embrace drove the air from Aziraphale's lungs, and when he pulled back to breathe, he barely had time to catch his breath before Crowley pressed their lips together again in a passionate kiss.

The second his lover's tongue brushed the seam of his lips, Aziraphale lost track of everything around him: the sun, the landscape, the cottage, the vacation. He surrendered to the kiss as Crowley slid his tongue into his mouth.

The kiss was warm and deep as they breathed into each other, neither wanting to let go, then gradually eased until the pressure of the lips was soft and slow. Crowley traced the outline of Aziraphale's lips with his own, slowly, as they both panted. 

The kisses became light brushes, gentle but equally intimate. It was as warm as the sun, which had risen even higher, and they both let out a soft laugh against each other's lips and immediately joined again to kiss just as gently.

Aziraphale stroked Crowley's cheek with his thumb while the demon's hands kept a light grip on his waist. 

He murmured softly, a playful little smile on his lips, "This vacation is shaping up nicely."

Laughing, Crowley leaned his face into Aziraphale's hand and replied, "Couldn't say it better, Angel."

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him and they embraced for a long moment before they turned, hand in hand, to look out over the landscape.

They enjoyed the warm rays of the rising sun.

But never as warm as the love that bound them.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love - Series post S2 - Part 1 - Part 2

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

[heldbykento]

⋆˳ . ⋆ — “LIKE IT’S ALL MINE. . . !”

part 1 | part 2

wrd count: 2136

warnings: pure smut, breeding kink if you squint, fem!reader, pet names used, big dick josh!!!!!, p in v sex, 18+ content, hard teasing

a/n: finally a part 2!!! yay!! enjoy babies :3 not proofread, per usual >_<

“you’re already so worked up just from humping my leg?” josh breathed out a laugh, hands grabbing at your hips, firmly enough to leave bruises.

all you could do was grow small in embarrassment under him, causing your hips to slow and eventually come to a halt.

his words made you realize what you were actually doing and reality snapped back at you.

josh had a fat grin on his face and he shook his head in disapproval. “don’t stop now, keep going. maybe i’ll let you cum on my dick if you’re obedient.”

your head was spinning, by now you could hardly make out anything he was saying, mind haunted with disgustingly sexual thoughts.

but he wouldn’t just make a huge mess out of you for fun.

josh liked you.

he liked your face, body, and how bright you were; how much you stood out from everybody else. he found it so attractive and he was ready to pour all of those feelings inside of you.

along with something else.

the exposed skin on your warm back started to melt into the cold plaster of the wall, reminding him that he was still completely clothed.

that had to be out the way. now.

josh met his lips with yours again, mouth wet from how harsh he was sucking on your tits. a dream come true.

while kissing you, nice and slow, he started pulling his layers of clothing off, only breaking the kiss for a moment to take his shirt off.

you broke the kiss entirely though, hands still holding onto him just because if you let go, your weak knees would buck and you’d be a puddle on the floor.

“t-take… take off your pants.” a soft order came from your lips, he couldn’t help the chuckle that left his.

he tilted his head at you, like a confused dog. “why don’t you do it for me? hm, pretty girl?” he whispered to you, the words making you feel things deep in your stomach.

there was no need to ask twice.

you were already on your knees, the warmth of your tights battling against the cold floor.

by the time you could take in a deep breath, he was already teasing you.

“c’mon. i love the view but i have needs too, y’know?” josh said from above you as he ran a hand over the top of your head, giving you a gentle push towards his crotch.

it was evident in his tone now that he was just as needy and ready as you. maybe not as much as you but he was getting there.

your hand reached to unbuckle his belt, being gentle because it felt expensive. the noises of metal clanking and pants hitting the ground filled the room.

silence.

stunned is one word to explain the feeling of the sight in front of you.

joshua washington was big, big and tightly pressed against his navy blue calvin klein boxers, pre-cum leaking through the cloth and it was staring right at you.

this was a sight women die for.

the cold breeze of the room was hitting him because his entire demeanor had changed.

josh was flushed, grabbing at the hair on your head with more vice than before, breathing in staggered patterns.

you tugged at the waistband with delicacy, swallowing dryly as the thick seven inches in front of you bounced slowly.

with a hand, you grabbed at the base while your lips made their way around the pulsing tip.

the new contact wired a low groan out of josh’s mouth, knuckles now wrapping themselves into your hair.

you started off slow.

bobbing your head only enough to take less than a few inches in as your hands twisted and tugged on the parts that weren’t in your mouth.

his mouth was wide open, spurring out words of praise while his hands tried to push your head closer, simultaneously pushing his cock farther into your mouth.

“fuck…holy shit thats good, s’good…” his head fell back and a grin fell on his face at the sounds of you gagging all on him.

tears pricked your eyes like thorns, and taunting you for thinking you could handle something so big.

the quicker you sucked on it, the louder the noises of your choking were. it made your cheeks burn hot in embarrassment.

the closer he was to finishing, the quicker he ripped your head from him.

right when you were in the zone. what an asshole.

“h-huh? wha— what? was it bad?” you asked in pure confusion, eyes big and full of tears as you stared up at him.

josh shook his head, his chest heaving and breath hot. “the complete opposite. i just want to finish while fucking your pussy. not your mouth.”

every time he spoke like that, you were just left with your mouth half-open and brows raised, looking dumb founded.

all he could do was laugh.

he grabbed you from the floor, picking you up with ease and hooking your legs around his hips.

hands on the prize, he palmed your ass to hold you up as he started chewing up your neck, loving the taste and all the mewls you cried out.

he was rock hard. dick twitching and ready to burst just from feeling your bare tits on his skin.

but he had to stay strong, had to maintain himself so he could blow a mean load into your guts and clean up the mess.

like a respectful gentleman.

thought there was nothing gentle about the things he was about to do to you.

before you knew it, your back was slammed against the mattress and your shorts were being stripped off your body, all in one swift movement.

he carefully placed one of your feet on his shoulders, holding it there with his left hand.

the view was something straight out of some cheap porno.

his biceps tightening as he ripped open your tights right where your cunt was, his fingers of his free hand slowly sliding your panties to the side.

you twitched from under him, knees bucking as you felt a thick digit rubbing between your lips, teasing your clit.

a whine left your mouth, noises almost pornographic. so embarrassing how quick he could get you like this just from one finger.

and he wasnt even thrusting it yet.

“so wet ‘n pretty. didn’t even have to wet it before putting it inside.” he tutted, sucking in his bottom lip between his teeth to hold himself back from saying something that was almost disrespectful.

your eyes rolled into your skull, biting down on the tip of your acrylic nail to hold back a dramatic moan that was inching out of you.

“josh, just fuck me already. please”

he wanted it as bad as you did. but he was an asshole about shit so, of course he had to take the high road.

“not just yet, gotta get you ready for me.” his tone was cocky as hell. he knew how big he was and how dramatic you were. so if he tore you up, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

after a short moment, he sucked in a breath and scoffed. “fuck it.” he muttered almost to himself and quickly after, he grabbed at your hips, flipping you completely onto your stomach.

as if you’d run away, he forcefully pulled your hips up, leaving a sharp slap on the full skin of your ass through the tights.

you still felt every little thing, jumping and flinching at the burning pain; that still felt so fucking good.

once he realized he couldn’t get the full effect, he was ripping that section of the flimsy material too.

all in a few seconds, he was sliding your panties back to the side and grabbing himself, positioning his length right at your entrance.

a dazed chuckle left josh’s mouth and he’s practically drooling at the sight. “shit, baby. if only you could see how good this looks.”

your back was arched, leaving a sexy arc that made him dizzy to look at.

he never imagined actually having you like this. and it made him so eager to fill you up.

with a guttural moan at your tight walls soaking him in, he tried to slowly push in every inch.

which made everything feel ten times better.

he sucked in a sharp breath, biting on his bottom lip and making a writhed up expression at how good it felt.

you on the other hand, let out a harsh gasp when his tip was touching areas you never thought could be reached.

it made your head perk up from being stuffed in the bed, eyes wide and chest heaving.

“g’nna start— f-fuck— moving… now…” he could barely speak, groans interrupting his words as he started bucking his hips forward.

his hands grabbed at the fat on your hips, holding you in place.

your mouth was stuck in an ‘o’ shape, brows furrowed up and eyes shut as you felt every. damn. thing.

noises you didn’t even know you could make were being let out. and he was barely even fucking you the way he wanted to yet…

how embarrassing.

his dick was so good. you had goosebumps on every part of your body and you could hear your juices squelching every time he thrusted into you.

when he started to get used to the tight and wet feeling, a hand reached for the hair that rested over your neck, grabbing up a handful of it.

with this, all he could do was fuck into you harder, skin slapping as he bit on his bottom lip.

his dark green eyes were full of lust due to the way you just consumed every inch so well.

you were loud. telling him you couldn’t take it and babbling out a whole lot of nonsense.

it just felt too good.

“what’s wrong, baby? never had anyone fuck you this good? hm?… yeah i bet no one’s been appreciating this pretty pussy like they should be.” he groaned, looking at your body as if it was a renaissance painting, his free hand grabbing at the plush skin of your ass with every fiber in him.

safe to say the skin was tinted red with his hand print all over it.

the mix of pleasure and pain of being stretched out made you weak.

your brain was absolute mush and you were so cock drunk, his dick replacing the feeling of all the alcohol from earlier.

“j—! oh my— fuck…!” was all you could blabber out. you tried to respond but he was pulling your hair so harshly, causing your back to arch more than you physically could.

meaning he was hitting a whole new spot, with harsher movements and a faster pace. the new feeling made your mind completely black out.

you were left a loud, whiny and moaning mess.

josh had promised himself to not get too caught up in one thing on this trip.

but the alcohol and ways you were talking to him earlier into the night made his dick twitch in his pants for any kind of attention from just you.

the both of you were close.

he could feel your walls tightening around his cock so nicely, making him want to empty all the cum he could hold into you.

“shit— shit, y/n. ‘m gonna cum inside this pussy, yeah? gonna make you all mine, fill you up so nice.” he was spewing half-minded bullshit in between deep breaths, grabbing at your hair and your hip while his thrusts became more aggressive.

you were drooling everywhere, his words made you want to cum right then and there.

the sounds of wet skin slapping and the feeling of his balls slapping against your clit consumed all of your thoughts.

“c— cum..! g’nna cum.. fuck—!” your legs were trembling, voice shaky while you reached for your orgasm by fucking yourself on his dick, rutting your hips; gripping the bed sheets for stability.

could’ve sworn you were seeing stars. your vision started to enhance white sparks and your eyes were open as wide as they could go, a loud moan of his name slipped out of your mouth.

a few more pumps in and he was cumming deep inside of you, holding his dick as deep as it could go.

he finished with a baritone and low groan, biting at his bottom lip as he watched the cum overflow, slipping out of you and down your thighs.

the both of you lied there in sweat and with limp

limbs, one of his hands was still stuck to your ass, holding it as he rested on his back while you were on your stomach.

“you awake?” josh muttered to you in a bit of concern, breaking the silence.

when he heard soft breathing in replace of your voice, he figured that was his answer and got up to find something he could clean you up with.

tags: @someobsessionrequired @lanadelreyscokewhor3

[justatasteofyourpoison]

The beginning of the end? (Interlude)

Part 3

(An Alastor x Fem Reader fan fiction)

Just a short one today. Taking a break from the smut to get into some plot! Excited to introduce some of the other characters in the next installment. This twisted little mind has ideas baby! :D

____________________________________________

The past two months had been a whirlwind and your skin was stained with Alastor’s kisses (not to mention your heart too).

The Radio Demon’s desires were insatiable and he had ravaged you more times than you could count, the passion always as intense as the first time.

The highlight of the season was when you both spent the night in the forest on the outskirts of Pentagram City. You talked and laughed (among other things…) under the moonlight until dawn. You couldn’t help think how nice it would be to escape the city with Alastor… But what chance was there of that happening? You were in hell, and you knew you were there for good reason… Meaning any sort of lasting happiness was unlikely.

You also couldn’t escape the fact that Autumn was slowly giving in to Winter where Alastor was from, meaning that his rut would soon end. Did this mean he would turn cold just like the season?

All instalments:

[thedeathdeelers]

a quick silly drabble for @saltedsan based on this post

//

otter (on ao3)

“So, Sol-a,” Sunjae starts as he looks up from the script in his hands. “What do you think about dogs?”

Sol, who was snuggled into his side on the sofa, answers absent-mindedly with her eyes still glued to the TV.

“Dogs?”

Sunjae gently nudges her to get her full attention. “Yes, Dogs. A dog. A puppy.”

“Um,” she starts, before finally turning to look at him. “I..I’ve always liked dogs,” she says, “But my mom was allergic so we could never get one.” She pauses to think before resuming. “But I think I’ve always liked the idea of having a dog more than actually owning a dog, y’know?”

Sunjae stares at her for a moment, waiting to see if she realises her mistake.

But all Sol does is stare up at him expectantly, eyes wide and sweetly innocent.

“I think I’m probably more of a cat person anyway,” she adds, shrugging.

Huh.

continue reading on ao3

Sol grins at him when he doesn’t say anything back, before turning her attention back to the TV.

Sunjae sits quietly for a beat before trying again.

“So then what about Otter?”

Sol, who had already gotten fully immersed in her show again looks up at Sunjae, eyes slightly unfocused.

“Otter? Who’s otter?” she asks.

“You know,” Sunjae waves his hand in front of them before draping it back around her shoulder, tucking her back in under his arm. “Otter, your childhood dog.” Sol’s face doesn’t change, the layer of confusion still very much there.

“The one who loved swimming.”

Sol’s bottom lip twitches.

“The one you compared me to in high school.”

Sunjae can see the moment she remembers, memories flooding in as understanding dawns in her eyes even as she tries very hard to keep a straight face.

“O-o-of course he- he was real,” she finally stutters out, laughing a little too loudly as she tries to scoot away from him. “Why- why would you ask?”

Sunjae stares at her for a long moment, head tilting to the side as Sol squirms under his gaze, eyes looking at anything but him.

She was avoiding his eyes — she knew he knew.

“Sol.”

She doesn’t budge, eyes now fixed on the TV even though he knew she wasn’t registering anything happening on the screen.

“Sol-a,” he tries again, this time in a sing-song tone.

Still nothing — only her fingers nervously fiddling with the frayed edge of her sweater giving her away.

Sunjae smirks, knowing he’s got her.

He turns his body to face her, arms coming down to cage her in — wrapping one arm around her waist from the back while his other rests on her thighs.

He feels her jump slightly at his touch.

Leaning in closer so that they were at the same eye level, Sunjae waits until Sol crumbles under the pressure and turns to look at him, gulping nervously in the process.

“So let me get this straight,” he says, finger tapping against her thigh. “You had me think that I reminded you, the girl I was crazy for, of a dead fictional dog all throughout our last year of high school?”

Sol doesn’t react for a moment, until he sees the tiniest of nods.

“All because you’re terrible at thinking on the spot?”

Sol hesitates, mouth opening as if to defend herself, only to snap it shut at the dubious stare Sunjae was sending her way.

She nods again.

Sunjae doesn’t really know how to react — he’d always suspected she had come up with that story just to dodge any time travelling related information, but there was always a tiny part of young Sunjae that worried he was too ‘puppy-like’ for her to take him seriously.

Sunjae snorts at the thought, almost rolling his eyes at his young self.

They were both just as bad as the other.

He focuses his attention back on Sol, who was still staring at him wide-eyed.

“I swear it was- I only did it to- I wasn’t lying about being a fan!!” She finally gets out with a worried expression on her face as her eyes search his for a sign of..something.

Sunjae relents at the sight of her genuine worry, sighing dramatically as he pulls back.

“Sol, we really need to work on your acting,” he says, shaking his head.

“M-my acting? Why-“

“And we really should discuss your naming skills.”

“I-“

“But for now, we should probably think of a punishment.”

“A- a..a what?” she asks, eyes widening at his words.

Sunjae grins at her, leaning forward as she tries to move away from him, only to pounce on her the second her back hits the sofa cushion.

The first he hears are her giggles, his favourite sound in the world.

And then comes the pleading, his fingers digging into her sides as she breathlessly begs him to relent.

He loved that she was ticklish.

His torturing session doesn’t last long, as he soon takes pity on her, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead before sitting back up, pulling her along with him.

He watches her as she tries to catch her breath, her face glowing with rose-tinted cheeks.

Sunjae feels his heart constrict, still unable to believe she was truly his.

He waits until she’s calmed down, fanning herself in an attempt to cool down; waits until she turns around to scold him-

Before ducking back in towards her to give her a quick peck, successfully cutting her off.

“Sunjae-a!” She gets out, a half-hearted scowl on her face as she struggles to keep the smile off her face.

God, he loved her. Terrible acting and all.

Sunjae gets up from the sofa, leaving a confused Sol behind, only to turn around and scoop her up in his arms, the sounds of her surprised laugh filling up the apartment.

“What are you-“

But he doesn’t let her finish her sentence, cutting her off by pressing a kiss to her cheek.

With a wide grin stretching wider across his face by the second, Sunjae walks around the sofa and carries the love of his life towards their bedroom.

It only takes Sol a second to realise where he was taking her, slapping him once on the chest before giving in, her shy and scandalised giggles following them all the way to bed.

[justimagineitblog]

“You Used To Love Me” Michael Gray Fan Fiction - Chapter 13

Well hi *I wave sheepishly from behind the computer screen*

Let me start by saying I am so so sorry that the conclusion of this story took so long - I have barely been writing for a really long time. 

But this story and doing it justice has always been in the back of my mind, and I finally got myself to finish it for all of you who have been so loyal and patient.

Here is the final Chapter of You Used To Love Me.

All my love, I hope you enjoy x 

Besides the obvious shock at seeing him at such a fucking inopportune time, his presence sends an immediate chill down my spine. 

I have to physically close my eyes to try and rid my mind of the thoughts and flashbacks to the other night, when he kissed me. When we kissed each other. 

The room collectively falls silent. No one tries to stutter over their words. No one tries to save the moment with some excuse. Just pure silence. All of us processing what has just unfolded. That is until Gina finally speaks. 

“Well, I guess the gig is up” she says, almost laughing. 

I don’t even look at her. My eyes are just glued to Michael. I watch his face contort into 100 different shades of confusion. 

When no one else speaks, when nothing is elaborated, he looks back and forth between all of us, searching desperately for an answer. 

“Izzy?” He says my name, his tone just begging me for an answer. 

“This isn’t on her…” Gina begins, standing up slowly from the floor and straightening her dress “I’m pregnant, Michael” 

And just like that, the bomb is dropped. But that’s not even the worst of it. My heart aches inside my chest, knowing that it’s about to get so much worse for Michael. 

I didn’t think it was possible, but somehow the air in the room grows heavier. 

My whole body tenses at I wait to see Michael’s reaction. 

He doesn’t know it’s not his yet. 

He runs his eyes over her, covering his mouth in shock when he finally notices the small baby bump just beginning to show through her dress. 

“Oh my god” he runs a hand through his hair, his hands trembling.

He doesn’t speak, he just shakes his head in disbelief. No excitement. No joy at the thought of having his own child. And that says it all. He isn’t happy. This is not the life he wanted for himself. 

Part of me want’s to tell him about Gina’s infidelity. To tell him that he is not having a child. That he is not going to be stuck raising a child with a woman he doesn’t love. But before I can even find the words, his head stops shaking and his brows furrow. Like a lightbulb switched on in his mind. Like something clicked. It’s like I can see him mind doing back flips as he realises that something doesn’t add up. 

He looks back up at Gina, who is chewing at her bottom lip nervously. She is also waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Like she said, Michael is smart. It won’t be long before it dawns on him, and I know she does not want that moment to unfold before all of us, here in this room. 

“I would like a moment alone with my husband” Gina says quickly, as she looks over at Polly and I. She knows Michael is starting to catch on to what he knows deep down inside. This is not his baby. 

I take her queue to leave immediately, reaching for Polly’s hand. “Come on Pol, let’s go make some tea yeah?” I say, locking eyes with her and nodding towards the doorway. 

Polly’s catches on, and she takes my hand as we both make our way out of the room. As we exit I quickly glance back over my shoulder to find Michael looking at me gravely, before Gina closes the door behind us.

Polly and I walk downstairs and into the kitchen in complete silence. I start making tea, but Polly touches my arm.

“This is not a time for tea… I’ll get the whisky”

I nod. I’m like a soldier with shell shock. I can barely speak. I can barely move as I lower my body stiffly into a chair at the dining table. 

I’m straining with all my might to hear the conversation going on upstairs between Gina and Michael, but it’s eerily quiet. 

I know what she is telling him now is being said in hushed voices. 

Polly slides a hefty glass of Whiskey in my direction, and tasting the bitter drink is the only thing that brings me out of my frozen trance. 

“Michael’s not going to be a father” she says out of the blue, with her face all knowing, as though she has read the room and understands the situation. 

“No” I affirm her suspicions, although she already knows without me needing to “No he’s not” 

“One day” Polly responds, holding eye contact with me.

I’ve always known Polly has senses. Everyone in the Shelby family knows. Hell, everyone in fucking town knows. She see’s things. Feels them. She know’s Michael will one day be a father. I’m not psychic and even I knew that. He has a way with children. He’s wonderful with them. And in this moment, I know exactly who she thinks he will be having children with. I know what she’s insinuating. 

I almost jump straight out of my seat when I few minutes later, I hear footsteps coming down the staircase. 

I quickly sink the rest of my whiskey, as Gina and Michael enter the dining room. 

“I’m taking Gina to the hospital, I’ll be back later. Tell Tommy we have to reschedule our meeting to another day” 

Michael is holding his cap in his hands, gripping it so tight that his knuckles have gone white. But they’re not as white as his face. I can’t tell if he looks like he’s seen a ghost, or if he is the ghost. 

Gina looks down at the floor, then up at the ceiling. Basically anywhere but at our faces. 

Polly nods, knowing that now is not the time to have words with either of them. I’m actually impressed with how civil she is being towards Gina in this moment. In light of the severity of the situation. 

Michael ushers Gina out the front door, and moments later the cars wheels turn on the gravel and make their way out of the street. 

Polly and I sit in silence, drinking for a little bit longer, until everything catches up with me. The whiskey, the sleeplessness, the bomb that was just dropped. 

Without saying much, Polly and I hug goodbye. She holds on a little longer than usual, and before we depart she gives me a knowing smile. 

I know what she’s thinking. I know she can tell something happened between Michael and I.

But I can’t let my brain run off with the possibilities. I don’t know what is going to happen between us. 

Even with Gina now possibly out of the picture, there’s a lot that has gone on between Michael and I. I still carry the pain, nursing it in my arms every day since he left for America, and came back with another woman. I don’t know what he could ever say to fix that.

And then there’s the possibility that he stays with her, despite the news. Which might just send me over the edge. Truly into a place of no return.

I wander the streets in the short walk back to my apartment, where I pour myself another drink when I arrive. 

I don’t know why, but I sit by the window. Waiting, I guess. Hoping that he might show up. Maybe even part of me is hoping that he doesn’t. But still, I can’t pull myself away. 

I have so many errands, so many jobs to do. But I can’t move on. I spend the rest of the day worrying about him. Picturing him at the hospital, sitting by Gina’s bedside. Supporting her on what might be the worst day of this life thus far. I picture his face when he found out she was pregnant. The horror and fear that he was trying to disguise. 

He didn’t have the glow of someone who just found out their wife is having a baby. 

By the time night falls, and dusk gives way, I have bitten my nails down to the quick without even noticing. 

Feeling horrid and heavy with anxiety, I decide to drag my sleep deprived body into the shower. It’s a peaceful moment, and I start to feel like I could finally settle into bed when someone knocks at my door as I’m getting changed into my night gown.

I catch myself in the mirror for a moment, willing myself to be strong, because I already know who it is standing at my door without even having to open it. 

As I make my way to my visitor, I run over 100 speeches that I have planned in my head. But once I grab that handle and pull it open, the chatter in my head falls silent. 

Michael Grey. 

He stands in the door way, a look of relief washing over his face as though he didn’t think I would actually answer him. 

Of course I would. 

He opens his mouth to speak, inhaling deeply, but the words never follow. With this much history between two people, it’s impossible to know where to begin.

He looks like he’s been to hell and back. 

“Sorry” he stammers, snapping himself out of his trance “Your door was unlocked, but I didn’t want to just walk in-”

“It’s always been unlocked” I breathe, knowing that I’ve kept a lot of parts of me unlocked, incase there was a moment where Michael Grey decided to wander back in. Just like he has right now. 

He nods, understanding what I meant immediately.

“Can I come in?” He begins “I can go if you want, I just…”

He looks so small in this moment. He’s the most timid and sheepish I have ever seen him.

“Of course” I nod, stepping aside to let him in.

We move about my apartment in silence, as we both take a seat at my dining table. When he does, he places his elbows on the table and rests his head in his hands. 

Without even needing to ask, I pour us both a drink.

“I figured if I need one of these you probably do too”

I looks up at me gratefully as I place the glass in front of him and he takes a swig. 

“How is she?” I ask, nervous to actually address the situation at hand. But I know there’s no way around it. We’re not going to talk about the fucking weather. 

“They’re uh, they’re going to keep her overnight until she’s got her hydration back”

There’s silence for a moment before he continues, and he looks as if he’s not able to believe what he’s about to say.  

“Then she’s going home”

My heart jumps and skips over a few beats, making me feel unsteady as I realise what he just said.

Gina is leaving. 

“We’re done” he says, and I suddenly take note of the fact that he’s not wearing his wedding ring. 

“Michael I’m sorry-” I begin, but falter when it comes to finishing my sentence.

I am sorry. But the truth is that I’m fucking relieved. Relieved for Michael. Relieved for myself. Relieved that I don’t have to watch him raise a child with someone else right in front of my eyes when it was supposed to be me. 

“It’s okay” he nods “Her and I we weren’t… I didn’t love her Izzy” 

I knew this whole time. I want to scream it from the rooftops. I want to scream it at him. I want to ask what possessed him to act that way for so long. 

I want to ask him who he loves. I want to ask him if it’s still me. 

“It still hurts though” I say instead, trying to keep my wits about me. And that is the truth. He is still in pain. 

“Yeah well I had that coming didn’t I” he almost laughs to himself, shaking his head. 

He looks up at me, bearing himself. He knows what he did was wrong. And he knows as far as karma goes, he was now getting his. 

“I’ve done so many things wrong… Everything got so out of control Iz” I notice his knee is bouncing rapidly beneath the table. 

I hold my breath, so much so that I begin to feel light headed and my chest begins to burn.

“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to” he says once he notices my speechlessness, “I just owe you an explanation. I owe you that much” 

I nod, giving him the go ahead. The green light of redemption. 

We’re on the edge of the moment. The moment I’ve been waiting for for months. 

“You know I don’t even know why you let me in, you’re always so kind, so good. Too fucking good. After everything” 

His chest rises and falls beneath his shirt and vest, growing faster with every second as he gets himself more and more worked up over the train wreck of his life. 

“You know I can’t get the look on your face out of my head, from the day that you saw me and Gina. The day I came back and told you to leave me alone. It fucking haunts me Izzy. Because I didn’t want it. But when you’re in too deep…” He shakes his head, as his words just keep pouring out frantically “I thought it was the only way… the only way to deal with what I had done. I couldn’t even look at Gina. I couldn’t even touch her. So I thought if I forgot about you, that I could move on”

“Did you?” Are the only words I can utter, as the lump in my throat swells, almost cutting off my voice completely. 

“Never. Fucking never” 

I had built this moment up in my head for so long. 

What I would say to him. 

How I would teach him a lesson. 

How I would show him what he had done to me. 

That he can’t get away with doing that to a person.

I had rehearsed how I would make him get on his knees and beg for my forgiveness.

Make him explain himself until he was blue in the face.

Until I was satisfied. 

I wait for that feeling to come, the rage, but it never does.

Instead, I stay silent as he takes a deep breath to steady himself. His eyes are welling up, threatening to spill over as he continues to explain.

“I lost my way over there. I was losing my fucking mind without you. I got drunk, Gina was forceful. One thing led to another and I woke up next to her one morning. Then I couldn’t get rid of her. I was doing business with her family, and it’s like she saw something she wanted and would stop at nothing to get it. That’s when I stopped contact with you… I couldn’t bring myself to talk to you. To face what I had done”

The first tear falls onto his freckled cheeks, but he wipes it quickly. 

“I was going to cut her off before I came back home, but she threatened that she would cut off the deal between Shelby Limited and her Uncles if I left her. She threatened fucking horrible things to the people I loved Izzy, you have no idea” His voice is panicked as he recalls every last detail, and I can see the flashbacks taking their toll on him. 

“Her family and her people, they’re something we’ve never dealt with before…She begged me to let her come with me. I was in way over my fucking head. And so I had to pretend. I didn’t want her to sink her claws into you too. I didn’t want anything to happen to you. I didn’t want you involved. So I had to pretend like I fucking hated you when all I wanted was to come crawling home to you”

By now, one tear had led to another, and he was no longer wiping them away. His eyes red, his cheeks drowning. 

Unable to keep swallowing the lump in my own throat, I abandon all control over my own emotions, and my own eyes spill over with tears. 

“You could have told me” my voice scrapes out of my throat “You could have told me what was happening”

He shakes his head “I wanted to protect you, and I had to break you in order to do that. And I’m so fucking sorry” 

The feeling comes again, where I’m certain I should be screaming at him right now. Cursing him for everything he put me through. 

But I can’t. After all this time, after everything. I just can’t. 

I still love him. 

My small, shaking hand glides across the top of the dining table, and lays gently over the top of his. 

Of course it did. We’re like magnets, him and I. We’ve never been able to keep away from each other. 

My touch has an immediate effect on him, as his breathing begins to calm.

But in an unexpected turn, he holds my hand and brings it up to his lips. His eyes close as he places a kiss on the back of my hand, and then another one on the soft, sensitive skin of my inner wrist. 

This is something we used to do all the time, and right now, it’s like he doesn’t realise what he’s doing. Muscle memory takes over. 

“You’re fucking stupid Michael Grey” I sniffle “I should hate you. I should fucking hate you” 

“Do you?” He asks, still holding onto my hand like it’s his only lifeline. 

I stare back at him for a moment, before I feel my head start to shake in response.

“Never” 

I feel a pull on my arm, as I realise he’s pulling my closer to him. 

And I don’t resist. 

Our bodies creep closer, slowly then all at once as we collide. His arms wrap around me fiercely, engulfing me. My arms wrap around his torso, and I make no mistakes about holding him tight. 

It’s almost crushing, suffocating, the way we are clinging onto one another. 

I can’t breathe, or cry, or laugh. I can’t move. And I don’t want to. 

His hand holds the back of my head, and I bury it into the crook of his neck. 

“I’m so sorry” he apologises, his voice muffled as his face presses into my skin “I’m so fucking sorry” 

I could have stayed like that forever, but he pulls back holding my face in his hands as he looks down at me.

“I love you” he begins, his breath tickling my face “I don’t know if that’s okay with you, but I still love you. Izzy. I never stopped” 

I look up at him, our breaths slowing and steadying, until we’re breathing in synchronicity. 

“I still love you the same as the day I met you” I shake my head, but I can feel the smallest of smiles begin to creep onto my lips “I love you Michael” 

“Yeah?” He asks one more time, as if he doesn’t believe it yet. 

“Yes, you fucking idiot” I exhale a laugh, unable to stop the smile now “I love you”

He beams back down at me, his head lowering until his lips meet mine. 

He’s slow, this time. Unsure. Gentle. As if this moment might fall away and escape him if he makes one wrong move. 

But I can’t hold back any longer. 

I kiss him back, pressing my body even harder against his, which I hadn’t thought was possible. 

I expect a ravenous kiss to follow, for clothes to start falling off our bodies and to gravitate our way towards my bedroom.

But after he returns a tender kiss, he pulls away. 

“Wait” he breathes

“You okay?” I pant, biting down on my lip. 

“Can we wait…” he whispers nervously “I don’t want you to think this is all I want. I just want to talk to you. Stay up all night talking like we used to. God I missed you so much”

My chest warms up, as I realise he really means it. That he doesn’t want me to get the wrong impression. That he missed my body, but more than that, he missed me. 

“Of course” I coo “I would like that” 

He presses his lips to mine one last time, then plants a few soft kisses across my nose and cheeks. Just like he used to. 

We lead each other to the bedroom, and flop down next to each other, taking in the days events. And how the hell we ended up here. 

It doesn’t take long for the conversation to start, as we turn to face each other. 

He caresses my face the whole time, stroking my cheek with his thumb gently. 

It’s all so familiar, and right now in our little bubble, it’s like no time has passed between us at all. Like no hearts were ever broken. 

We talk for hours, neither of us ever feeling tired for a moment. We laugh, getting carried away and wrapped up in each others. Sometimes we cry. He apologises more times than I can keep count. We hold each other. Sometimes I want to ask him to pinch me, to make sure I’m not still concussed from earlier in the week and imagining all of this. That I’m not going to wake up and realise it wasn’t real. That he won’t be taken away from me again. 

We talk about how things used to be.

We talk about the future.

Eventually at some point in the early hours of the morning, once our voices are tired and we can’t keep our eyes open any longer, we fall asleep. 

When I wake, I’m alone, but next to me I can see the indent of where Michael had been next to me the night before.

My heart starts to race as I become more aware.

He’s left. He’s gone again. 

I’m almost carried away into a full panic attack, when something snaps me out of it. The sound of the radio coming from somewhere in the house.

Wondering if someone is here, or if I just left it on, I wrap myself in a robe and make my way into the heart of my apartment. 

And there he is. 

Fixing up breakfast, still in his clothes from the night before. Humming along to the radio. 

He doesn’t even realise I’m there for a few moments, and I’m glad I have some time to process this all to myself.

I had thought I’d never see this scene again. Maybe in my memories, but never in real life. 

Michael, in my kitchen, making us breakfast on a cold morning. 

My chest floods with warmth.

I didn’t realise how I felt like I had been holding my breath up until this moment, and how now I can finally exhale. 

“Morning” he greets me when I he catches me standing there out of the corner of his eye “Sorry, I just thought I’d make you some breakfast, or at least coffee” 

“Thank you” I smile, as I force myself to hurry up and adjust to the moment. 

“You still like your eggs the same?”

“Absolutely” I smile, endeared by him asking. 

He holds out a hand, and I take it, as he reels me in towards his body. 

“If this is too much just tell me” he says softly, checking in with where I’m at right now “Is this okay?” 

I can tell he’s still unsure. Unsure of whether I’m going to tell him to leave. To get out. That the mistakes are unforgivable and that we can never get it back. 

But the truth, that I can feel in my core, is that what we had never really left. 

I run a hand through his hair, and he closes his eyes briefly, taking in the sensation. 

“I think so” I nod, and he perks up, his eyes look hopeful and bright again “I thought you had left” I admit, revealing why I looked so startled just now.

“No chance” he shakes his head “I’m here. I’m yours”

And I believe him.

It’s a pivotal moment.

Standing on the edge and letting yourself jump. 

I know it will take time. And I know he will work every day to prove it to me. 

But I choose to trust him.

In whatever way that means right now.

I am his.

I always have been. And I always will.

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[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 22: Back Home

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

A couple of weeks after your journey from San Diego, you found yourself engrossed in work late one evening in your office. The sound of a knock at the door interrupted your focus. Lifting your eyes, you saw Chuck standing there, holding a small tray filled with snacks.

"Come in," you invited, taking a moment to organize the papers strewn across your desk.

Chuck entered, placing the tray on your desk. "Figured you might need a little something to munch on," he offered, a considerate gesture that brought a moment of warmth to the late hours.

You couldn't help but smile at the thoughtfulness. "Thanks, Chuck. That's really kind of you," you expressed, genuinely touched by the gesture. The sight of the snacks—a mix of fruit, nuts, and some chocolate—was a welcome sight, considering you hadn't realized how much time had passed or how hungry you actually were until now.

Chuck observed the situation, remarking on your evident busyness. "It looks like this new grant project is keeping you quite occupied," he noted, acknowledging the lengthy days you've been putting in.

You responded with a confirming sound, the weight of the work ahead clear in your tone. "This is just the start. I've been going through resumes to find some assistance for the upcoming winter and summer," you explained, signaling the expansive scope of your project and the need for additional hands to manage the workload.

As a yawn escaped you, you promptly covered your mouth with your hand.

Chuck issued a gentle warning, "Well, don't push yourself too hard. I understand with the Lieutenant away, you might dive into work to keep him off your mind, but it's not the best for your health," he pointed out, concern evident in his voice. "And you've seemed pretty worn out lately."

You dismissed the concern with a nonchalant shrug. "Nah, I'm fine. Just still getting my bearings after all those time zone changes a few weeks back," you claimed, attributing your fatigue to the adjustment period rather than the workload or emotional stress.

"Have you heard from the Lieutenant?" he inquired, observing as you picked up a grape from the plate and popped it into your mouth.

After a moment spent chewing and then swallowing, you answered, "No," your tone casual yet hinting at a deeper resignation. "But that's nothing new." You continued eating off of the plate.

Chuck's observation came unexpectedly, drawing a parallel from his experiences, albeit in a different context. "Doc, I'm no rocket scientist, but I've been around horses enough to see when something's up. Are you sure you're not pregnant?" he asked, noting your sudden appetite as you continued to eat grapes.

You stopped mid-motion, a grape poised between your fingers, as his words prompted a rush of thoughts. The realization dawned on you; you and Jake had been cautious only that one time.

The room suddenly felt too small, your mind racing as you tried to piece together the timeline, the possibility that Chuck's offhand comment might hold more truth than jest.

Chuck, realizing the gravity of what he'd suggested, immediately softened his approach. "Hey, I didn't mean to jump to conclusions or anything. It's just, you've been looking a bit off color lately, and now the sudden hunger," he explained, his voice tinged with concern rather than suspicion.

You set the grape back down, suddenly not so hungry. "I... hadn't really considered it," you admitted, the possibility now taking root in your mind. "But now that you mention it, there have been a few signs that I just attributed to stress and being busy." As you glanced down at the grape held delicately between your fingers, a stark realization hit you. You despised grapes. The fact that you were not just tolerating but seemingly enjoying them now added an unexpected layer of complexity to Chuck's question. This sudden shift in your dietary preferences, coupled with the recent context you were forced to consider, made the scenario all the more perplexing and worthy of deep thought. "I'll make a doctor's appointment tomorrow." You looked at Chuck and nodded. "Good night."

A few days after your conversation with Chuck, you found yourself in a different kind of waiting—sitting in a doctor's office, draped in a gown that felt less like clothing and more like a symbol of vulnerability. The anticipation was palpable, the room filled with a silence that seemed to echo your racing thoughts.

The door finally opened, breaking the cycle of your anxious musings. A middle-aged woman stepped in, her curly dark hair framing her face and glasses perched on her nose, exuding an air of professional calmness. "Dr. Seresin, how are you today?" she greeted, her voice carrying a blend of warmth and formality, the sort that healthcare professionals master over years of practice. Her presence, while reassuring, also marked the moment of truth you had been both dreading and anticipating.

"Dr. Katz," you acknowledged her, trying to muster a semblance of calm. "I guess I'm doing okay."

Dr. Katz took a seat, her gaze meeting yours squarely, a gesture that seemed to brace both of you for the forthcoming revelation. "Well, we might as well just get right to it. You're pregnant."

The moment the words left her lips, it felt as though the room's atmosphere shifted dramatically. It was as if all the air had been vacuumed out, leaving behind a charged silence that enveloped you. The reality of her statement hung heavy, a profound turning point that was both intimidating and real.

Dr. Katz, observant and empathetic, noticed the change in your demeanor. Her voice softened as she addressed the situation, "I take it this wasn't planned?"

Releasing a deep breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, you managed to find your voice. "Not really, but..." Your words trailed off, a mix of emotions swirling within you—surprise, apprehension, perhaps a hint of something else. In that moment, with the reality of your situation settling in, you stood at the threshold of an unexpected journey, pondering the myriad ways it could unfold.

Dr. Katz's gaze briefly settled on the wedding ring adorning your finger, a symbol of commitment that prompted her next question. "I didn't know you were married? Does your husband not know yet?"

Meeting her gaze, you clarified, "I've been married for four years. My husband is currently deployed. Due to a past circumstance, we recently rekindled our relationship."

Dr. Katz turned her attention back to the computer, typing away for a moment before stopping, a note of concern in her expression as she addressed a sensitive topic. "Ah. Being kicked in the stomach and losing the baby." Her gaze shifted back to you, searching, as she asked, "How do you feel about this?"

There was a brief pause as you collected your thoughts, the weight of the question pressing down. "Honestly, nervous," you admitted, your voice carrying the mixed emotions of fear, uncertainty, and perhaps a glimmer of hope or resilience. It was a moment of vulnerability, acknowledging the complexity of your feelings in the face of such unexpected and challenging news. he room seemed to hold its breath as you shared a piece of your past, a shadow that lingered over your present. "After it happened, my husband didn't really talk to me for four years," you revealed, the pain and isolation of that time evident in your voice. Meeting Dr. Katz's eyes, you expressed a fear deeply rooted in your experience. "I don't want that again."

Dr. Katz, sensing the depth of your concerns and the weight of your past experiences, offered a supportive suggestion. "There's a psychologist I can connect you with..."

But you quickly dismissed the idea, a reflexive wave of your hand punctuating your decision. "No. No psychologist. I can deal with this." Your voice carried a mixture of determination and perhaps a hint of apprehension.

Dr. Katz exhaled deeply. "Alright, I'll provide you with that information, just in case you have a change of heart. But do start taking a quality prenatal vitamin. I'll see you in a month's time, purely as a precaution because of the last time. It's not that I'm expecting complications, but I'd rather be safe and ensure everything is on track."

"Okay," you nodded in agreement.

"You're going to be just fine, Y/N," reassured the doctor before exiting the room.

You released a breath you hadn't noticed you'd been holding in.

Entering the kitchen late, you carried a small bag, its contents consisting of prenatal vitamins.

Chuck glanced up. "Everything alright, Doc?"

Setting the bag on the counter, you extracted the vitamins. "You were correct. I'm pregnant."

A smile brightened Chuck's face. "Doc, that's wonderful news! But, why do I sense you're not thrilled?"

"I am happy," you admitted. "It's just the thought of Jake's reaction that's weighing on me."

Chuck nodded, understanding the complexity of the situation. "I think the Lieutenant will be thrilled about it."

"I hope so, but it's my line of work that makes him anxious. Particularly after the last incident." Drawing in a deep breath, you contemplated your next steps. "I need to see about getting an assistant or an intern. It's time to have a discussion with work."

As if on cue, your phone began to ring, and Jake's name flashed on the screen. "Speaking of Jake," you remarked, pressing the answer button for a face call. "Hey babe!"

Chuck discreetly exited the kitchen, giving you space to talk to Jake.

Jake's voice came through, vibrant and warm. "Hey, darlin'!"

God, how you missed the sound of his voice. Heck, you missed everything about him.

He noticed your weariness. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. It's just been a long day. I literally just got home."

"Well, then I called at the right time. How are things?"

"Things are going well. I've been swamped, between the job and managing the grant, it's been non-stop."

"Darlin', make sure you're not overdoing it," he cautioned gently.

A smile found its way to your lips. "I won't, Jake. Don't worry about me."

His gaze carried a tinge of concern. "You sure you're alright?"

With a reassuring smile, you responded, "I'm fine, Jake, really. Like I mentioned, today was just one of those long days."

Seeing his expression ease brought you a bit of relief. "You'd tell me if something was up, wouldn't you?"

"Without a doubt." You took a brief pause before shifting the focus. "How about you? How have you been?"

"Doing well. There's been a lot of training going on."

"That sounds positive, doesn't it?"

His smile returned, warmer this time. "Always is." His gaze met yours, carrying a mix of longing and affection. "I miss you, Y/N."

The feeling resonated deeply within you. "I miss you too, Jake. Any idea when you'll be back?"

He hesitated, the uncertainty evident. "Not at this time."

You nodded. "Is there anything you need? I took care of your apartment, so you're good on that."

His voice carried a hint of regret. "Nah, I'm alright, but I really need to catch some sleep. Sorry for not calling sooner. This was the first chance I got."

Your words were soft but firm, "Jake, it's part of the job. I get it. Go catch some sleep. I'm heading to bed soon myself."

"That sounds like a plan. I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Jake."

After ending the call, Chuck re-entered the room.

"You didn't tell him, did you?"

Shaking your head, you responded, "No. He's got enough on his plate without adding to his worries. He needs to stay focused on his work." You met Chuck's gaze with determination. "And there's no arguing with that."

Chuck gave a nonchalant shrug, conceding to your point. "Whatever you say, Doc. You call the shots." Moving towards the stove, he changed the subject. "Got an appetite?"

"Starving!" you exclaimed, grateful for the distraction.

Chuck then busied himself with preparing a plate for you, signaling the end of the conversation and a shift to more comforting, domestic matters.

Tags: @buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @tgmreader @callsign-barbell @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891

[natlacentral]

'I've got to pinch myself': Paul Sun-Hyung Lee on playing Iroh in 'Avatar: The Last Airbender'

Presumably the people outside a local car dealership a couple of years ago who heard Paul Sun-Hyung Lee let out a “huge whoop” during a phone call with his agent didn't fully grasp the significance of that celebratory sound.

The Toronto actor beloved as the internet’s “Appa” thanks to “Kim’s Convenience” and a popular part of the “Star Wars” universe, too, was about to become the internet’s favourite uncle.

Lee had landed the role of Uncle Iroh in “Avatar: the Last Airbender,” Netflix’s much anticipated live-action reimagining of a well loved animated series (not to be confused with James Cameron’s “Avatar” films).

“Honestly, I have moments where I think I’ve got to pinch myself because, even as a youngster, I never would have believed that I could be a part of these things, because I never saw anybody who looked like me reflected in any of these shows,” the Korean Canadian actor said, reflecting on his roles in “Airbender” and the “Star Wars” spinoffs “The Mandalorian” and “Ahsoka,” in which he plays the popular Captain Carson Teva.

As Iroh in “Airbender,” Lee has stepped into the robes of another fan favourite character.

First, a bit of a primer: “Avatar: The Last Airbender,” which debuts Thursday, is about a 12-year-old boy, the “Avatar” of the title, on a quest to save the world from the rapacious Fire Nation, which has gone to war with the Earth, Water and Air peoples. Despite his youth, Avatar Aang (played by Vancouver actor Gordon Cormier) is a powerful “bender,” honing his ability to manipulate air, water, earth and fire.

Aang and his friends — Katara, a water bender (played by Indigenous Canadian Kiawentiio), and her brother, Sokka (American actor Ian Ousley) — are being hunted by fire bender Prince Zuko (American Dallas Liu), who’s accompanied by his wise and compassionate Uncle Iroh, himself a fire bender and a former Fire Nation general.

If that all sounds kind of geeky, well, that’s right up Lee’s alley.

The 51-year-old has well-established nerd bona fides as a fan of “Star Wars” and other science fiction (he shares his love of the genre on his Bitterasiandude Inc. YouTube channel). He caught up with the original “Avatar: The Last Airbender” (which aired on Nickelodeon from 2005 to 2008, then moved to Netflix) while he was still working on the CBC comedy “Kim’s Convenience” (2016-21), in which he played a South Korean immigrant who runs a convenience store in Toronto. 

In 2018, as new fans were discovering “Kim’s” worldwide after the series moved to Netflix, the streaming giant announced its remake of “Airbender,” setting in motion Lee's ascent into another dream role. 

“Almost immediately I got fan casted (as Iroh) by all these people on the internet,” Lee said in a Zoom interview. “I was very, very flattered, but I was doing ‘Kim’s.’”

A few years later, though, “Kim’s” had ended and Lee got an audition for what was billed as a basketball movie called “Blue Dawn,” as a coach who had come out of retirement to guide his nephew.

Although he’s “more of a baseball, hockey guy,” Lee taped the audition and then forgot about it, until a callback a couple of months later. Except now, the retired basketball coach Howard was named Iroh.

“There’s only one Iroh that I know of,” said Lee. “And so I remember thinking, ‘Oh my God, this is for “Avatar”’ … right away I got super nervous. The stakes went up and I really wanted this part.”

But, after doing a chemistry read with Liu and not hearing anything for a couple of weeks, Lee assumed he had missed out on the role, which is part of the lot of an actor … until his agent called just as Lee and his wife were about to sign a lease on a new vehicle.

“So I excused myself, leaving the salesman completely befuddled. I went outside and that’s when I learned that I landed the role. And immediately let out this huge whoop. I had forgotten that I was in a public area and there were lots of people outside, and they all suddenly looked at me and I said, ‘It’s OK. It’s good news. It’s great news.’”

There was one more hurdle to overcome, though. 

“Airbender,” which shoots in Vancouver, overlapped Lee’s schedule for “The Mandalorian,” which films in Los Angeles. And playing Iroh meant shaving off the middle part of the moustache that Lee sports as Captain Teva.

“Luckily I was able to have my cake and eat it at the same time,” said Lee. “Lucasfilm was like, ‘Oh, we’ll just build him a little fake moustache to put on while he’s shooting (“The Mandalorian”).’”

Lee isn’t certain how familiar the producers of “Airbender” were with his work on “Kim’s Convenience” — it's an established fact that “Mandalorian” producer and director Dave Filoni was a “Kim’s” fan before he cast Lee — but he considers his latest job to be another of the many blessings accruing from the CBC series.

“‘Kim’s Convenience’ was such a wonderful launching pad for my career,” Lee said. “I mean, that show was kind of my coming out party in terms of the film and TV world.”

Lee, who was born in South Korea but immigrated to Canada with his parents when still an infant, struggled to find good film and TV roles as a young actor in the 1990s and early aughts. 

After graduating from drama school at the University of Toronto, he did a lot of theatre work, but onscreen “I played a lot of doctors, a lot of store clerks, a lot of window dressing-type caricatures, not characters.”

And yet, he persisted. 

Despite not seeing himself reflected in the television he devoured as a kid and from which he developed his love of storytelling, “I thought, well, heck, if there’s nobody (else Asian) out there, maybe there’s a shot for me to get in … that was kind of foolish thinking because maybe you’re the only one because a lot of people have tried and haven’t been able to get through. But I was just too stupid and too stubborn to quit, so just kept at it.”

Now Lee hopes to provide inspiration for the young Asian actors coming up behind him.

On the set of “Airbender,” which has many Asian actors in its cast, Lee became particularly close with Liu, the 22-year-old Chinese-Indonesian-American actor playing his beloved nephew. Just as Iroh is protective of Zuko, for whom he becomes a surrogate father, Lee said he wanted to nurture Liu.

“Every chance that I got to just sort of give him little pearls of wisdom based on my experiences … I couldn’t help but want to see him succeed,” Lee said. “This kid is a superstar,” he added.

Now that Lee himself is part of two much-loved pop culture franchises, “my cup runneth over,” but he still has entries on his acting bucket list.

“Not to sound greedy, but I’d love to do ‘Star Trek’ because that's filming right in our backyard. I’d love to do a ‘Ghostbusters.’ All those geeky playgrounds I never got a chance to play in. I want to be in a rom-com. I want to be in a Western, the genres that I grew up watching …

“But I’ll take it as it comes and I’m grateful for what I have. And if this is the only thing I ever do again I will be thankful for it because a lot of people don’t get these opportunities.”