#and that being able to write about it is how she's able to process it and move on from it

[geddyqueer]

no crying in baseball ⭐️ what was that writing process like? also as someone who reveres middle school and that age just on the cusp of innocence lost, i felt a kinship with the way you wrote those kids. do you feel sentimental about that age?

on march 24th i said "imagine tommy jogging in the park and nearly getting brained by an errant softball thrown by a middle schooler and then he ends up coaching a softball team which allows him to work through the issues that have been holding him back from this relationship" and over the next 3.5 weeks i really wrote like a man possessed. you said something about it being a bucktommy fic without any buck in it which really was true: it had to be entirely about tommy undoing the knots that were keeping him stuck in his own personal ruts, because that was how this version of tommy was going to solve the underlying problems. he has to be able to figure out what his desires are and then give a voice to them.

my middle school era was painful in the way everyone's is, i think. puberty, behavioral issues, family drama, the works; the things i'm sentimental about from that age are summer camps, the books i read, the hours i spent wandering around the woods alone. we had a family friend, a gay man who was involved in community theater, who was often driving me around places. i can't even remember why, half the time, just his boxy 80s volvo with a tape-to-cd converter and the weird conversations that a 13 year old girl can have with a 30-something man she's not related to while they're driving to the next county over to do some random errand or he's picking her up from school in lieu of her parents. that's the vibe i tried to capture with tommy's relationship to emma: the family friend, the car, the forward-facing talk.

i don't know a lot of children; i don't have a lot of children in my life right now. neither my brother nor i intend to be parents, and i'm not especially close with my cousins that have kids. i graduated high school when cell phones were still somewhat of a novelty. i have no idea how kid-adult interactions go, these days. but i spent a lot of time with adults as a kid, and i really appreciated the ones who interacted with me like i was one of them, and that's what i was trying to recreate.

[saveahorserideaneddie]

9-1-1 s9 ep 1: “Fault Line”

To Preface:

This is a long ass post that I am putting under a cut for ease if scrolling by if you don’t feel like reading. This is literally just a fun little outline of how I would write the season opener if I were showrunner- obviously it’s not going to be perfect, and if it were ever a real episode there would absolutely be edits made- this is just me having fun.

For context this is set about three-ish months after the end of s8, and would take place in late September-ish in my head. It does end on a cliffhanger since it’s only the opening episode of the opening disaster, but I might be compelled to write outlines for the other two (idk tho so im not gonna promise anything)

and last but not least: some actions/words from some of these characters might come off as cold/harsh, but this is literally not even half a year after bobby died so like- none of them have passed the grieving stage yet and are still not in great mental states- in my head a lot if the initial conflicts between characters that would not usually be fighting would be resolved by the third episode, but since this is only the first of three, those conflicts will not be resolved here. again- this will end on somewhat of a cliffhanger, but it’s nothing like drastic; just a basic “oh shit that just happened” ending

anyway if you’re still here, i hope you enjoy my long ass post :))) <3

9x01: “Fault Line”

We open on Athena staying in May’s apartment with her while she hunts for a new place. Athena goes through her morning routine, and we see that she’s on depression meds. Her morning seems to go well, but May is definitely Concerned™️ about her, even if she doesn’t say anything. Athena arrives at her precinct, greeting everyone, going about her morning, changing into her uniform. She goes out on patrol, and we see her chase a few bad guys, run a few tickets, just casual stuff, nothing crazy, until all of a sudden as she’s driving- what she thinks is a small earthquake hits and she pulls off to the side of the road to make sure everyone is okay. After a few moments, she hears another rumbling sound- she thinks it might be an aftershock, but when she turns around she sees a new highrise building collapsing, filling the streets around them with rubble as she and a few other pedestrians enter a storefront to avoid the rubble.

Cue: “9-1-1” intro screen

“A Few Days Ago”

Athena is in therapy with Frank, who is asking her how she’s doing. She is obviously masking her grief, telling him that she’s moved past it and has to focus on doing her job. He tells her that there is nothing wrong with still processing her grief over losing her husband, that no one would blame her for taking time. She tells him that the last time she lost someone, she held onto that grief for 30 years before she was able to let it go and it hardened her, and that she didn’t want to do the same with Bobby. Frank then asks how the 118 is doing in the wake of Bobby’s death.

Cut to, the 118 responding to a call. Chim is acting captain, Buck and Ravi are on heavy rescue, and and Eddie is partnered with Hen as a paramedic. Immediately, something is off- everyone is working well, doing their job, but the energy has shifted. Initially it seems to be because Bobby is gone, but as the rescue goes- a small sinkhole- we see that Eddie is pointedly ignoring Buck, while Hen and Chim are being snippy with each other- poor Ravi just stressed and confused as usual. After a few cliche “will they save the day” moments, they do save the day and begin to pack up the scene; this is where we really see the awkward tension in the group.

Commercial Break

They return to the station where it’s the end of their shift. Buck asks Eddie how Chris is enjoying high school so far, and Eddie gives him a short, clipped answer before walking away. Buck is left looking like a sad dog, before he turns to see Chim making his way to the captain’s office. He calls out for him and asks if he wants Buck to record Jee’s dance recital. Chim tells him that there’s no need, and that there’s no way he’s missing Jee’s first recital. Ravi comments on the fact that Chim looks exhausted before he and Buck walk out of the station together.

Athena gets home to find May on the phone with someone- she tells them that her mom just got home and that she needs to go, but she’ll text them later. Athena asks who that was and May tells her that it was just a friend. She asks Athena how therapy went, and Athena tells her “it was therapy.” May then asks how Athena is adjusting to her new medication, and Athena tells her that she’s adjusting fine. May asks if she wants to talk about it and Athena deflects, changing the subject to May’s senior year of college.

Hen gets home to find Karen alone in the house. She asks where Denny and Mara are, and Karen tells her that they both had sleepovers planned since it was a weekend. Hen looks a little dejected, and Karen asks her what’s wrong. Hen tells her that she feels like with extracurriculars and sleepovers, she feels like they never see the kids anymore. Karen tells her that their kids are growing up, and that they have their own personalities and lives. Hen sighs and tells her that she’s not sure she’s ready to acknowledge that her kids are growing up, and Karen tells her that their kids will be in college, and they still won’t be ready for them to grow up. Karen then says that there’s one good thing about the kids not being there though, Hen asking her what that is before Karan grabs her hand and pulls her towards their bedroom.

While they wait for Jee’s recital to start, Buck is venting to Maddie about how Eddie isn’t speaking to him and he doesn’t understand why. Maddie tells him that maybe Eddie’s busy with Chris starting high school, and having to shift to being a paramedic while Chim is intirum captain. Buck counters with the fact that Eddie would have asked for help if that were the case, but that he hasn’t. He tells Maddie that he’s been trying to give Eddie and Chris space to get settled after moving back but that this feels like he’s being iced out. Maddie suggests that maybe Eddie feels a bit like Buck’s been ignoring him, spending more time with Ravi lately, but Buck disagrees saying that he still tries to talk to Eddie, so he can’t possibly feel like Buck is ignoring him. Before they can continue, Jee’s recital starts and they look around for Chim who hasn’t gotten there yet.

Cut to the fire house where Chim has passed out in the captain’s chair, being woken up by the B shift captain, telling him it’s now almost 8. Chim panics, rushing out of the firehouse to his car, speeding through LA to get to Jee’s school, only to find that the recital had finished.

Commercial Break

Maddie arrives at Dispatch the next day, Josh asking how Jee’s recital went, and Maddie tells him it went fine, but that Chim was beating himself up over missing it. Maddie tells Josh that she tried to make sure Chim knew it wasn’t the end of the world, but that there was no consoling for him. She tells him that Chim took the kids out for the day to make it up to himself. Her attention is caught by Linds informing a caller that a noise complaint is not a valid reason to dial 9-1-1, before she hangs up and looks at Maddie and Josh telling them that another person called about the new luxury high rise being built. Maddie says that the site is right next to the 118 and that Chim says that the construction can be heard all day during a shift and that it’s hard to concentrate on anything because of how loud it is.

Buck knocks on Eddie’s door, waiting for him to answer. Eddie opens the door and Buck notices he’s dressed to go out. He asks what Eddie is doing and Eddie tells him that he’s having lunch with Karen and Hen. Buck asks if Chris is doing anything and Eddie tells him that Chris is at his friends’ for the weekend. Buck tells Eddie that he had hoped they might be able to hang out that day, to which Eddie says, maybe some other time, before pushing past him and leaving Buck alone on the doorstep.

Athena drives by her and Bobby’s old house, watching from her patrol car as the family who bought the house leave for some sort of weekend activity. She sits there for a moment before silently driving away.

Eddie is at the Wilsons’ for lunch- the three of them laughing over something as Karen sets a tray of sandwiches down on the table. The conversation shifts to Chris starting high school. Eddie tells them it’s been an adjustment, that the house is a bit emptier without him there all the time since he has so many clubs he’s a part of. Hen tells Eddie he needs to get out more. Karen scoffs and jokingly calls Hen a hypocrite before telling Eddie about thier conversation from the night before about not beign ready for kids to grow up. Eddie attests to the reality of that and says he still wishes he could carry Chris around in his arms and play legos with the kid, but that that’s the beauty of growing up- they become their own person and that they need the freedom to explore themselves and learn who they are; adding on that he knows from personal experience how not getting that opportunity can mess with you. Karen points out Eddie’s words of wisdom and he shrugs, saying therapy has helped him and that all that time alone leaves him with a lot of time to think. He then pivots the conversation back to Hen’s feelings on her empty nest syndrome and tellls her that if she had accepted the captain position she wouldn’t feel this way. Hen deadpans that she’s already pissed at Chim, jokingly warning Eddie not to piss her off too.

May and Buck are getting coffee- Buck thanking her for agreeing to meet with him. May jokes that she misses their brother-sister coffe dates to which Buck roles his eyes but smiles all the same. Buck notices May texting someone with a smile on her face, asking who she’s talking to, her telling him it’s none of his business. Buck says “so there is someone” before May deflects by asking if he’s been seeing anybody lately. Buck tells her that he’s taking a break from dating- taking Maddie’s advice and learning to be alone before he tries to start another relationship. He explains that he’s always felt like he’s always grown attached to his partners too quickly, often romanticizing what they had to the point where he thought his feelings were stronger than they were, when in reality he didn’t really ever like his exes deep down except for taylor and abby. He says that by learning to be alone he’s training himself not to latch on to his partner. May tells him that she doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with being attached to your partner as long as it’s genuine and built off of true commitment and trust- not just immediately throwing yourselves at each other. saying that that love needs to grow snd build before going all in. That she learned that from her mom and Bobby. Buck asks her how she’s doing and May tells him that she’s just worried for her mom. Buck tells her that he’s there for her if she needs him, and May thanks him. May gets a notification on her phone- Buck joking that it’s her someone before she tells him no- that she has Athena on Find My Friends now, and that Athena was just at their old house.

Commercial Break

Athena gets home and May asks her how her day was. Athena tells her it was a slow shift and that she’s hoping that the next day might be a little more exciting. May stays quiet for a moment, Athena asking if she’s okay before May tells her that she knows Athena went by the house today. Athena asks her what she means and May reminds her that after she left for college, they shared their locations with each other on Find My Friends, and that she still gets notifications for the old house, and she got one that Athena was there. She asks what she was doing and Athena deflects telling her that she responded to a call on the street and that’s all- May of course sees right through this, telling her that she’s not upset that Athena was there, it’s that Athena is clearly not okay and that she wants her to be honest with her. Athena argues that she is being honest, but May tells her she knows she’s not- that she knows her mom well enough to know that’s not true. That she misses Bobby too and she’s still not over it- that she doesn’t think she ever will be- but that bottling it up and ignoring the problem will just make it worse, telling Athena that she’s already lost one parent, she can’t lose another. Athena stays silent, turning and leaving the room as she goes to her own room- tears streaming down her face.

Maddie gets home from her shift to find Chim sitting on the couch, watching Jee’s recital on their tv, looking dejected. Maddie asked how his day was and Chim responded by saying that Jee asked why he missed her recital. Maddie sympathetically tries to tell him that she’ll understand when she’s a little older that Chim’s job is important. Chim cuts her off by saying that his job is not more important than his daughter- that he’s already missing so much of Jee’s kindergarten events, and that Robbie is growning so quickly that Chim feels like he blinks and the baby’s grown two sizes. He tells Maddie that he had an absent father, and that he doesn’t want his kids to feel thst same way. Maddie tries to tell him that they won’t have an absent father, but Chim scoffs telling her that that’s what he feels like. He storms off, leaving Maddie alone on the couch- Jee’s recital still playing as she starts to cry.

We then see the same montage of Athena getting ready for work, only this time after she leaves May’s apartment we cut to

A shift arriving at the firehouse. Ravi is filling Buck in on something that happened to him on their days off, Eddie side-eyeing them as he silently makes his way into the locker room. Ravi greets Eddie, getting nothing but a small noncommittal “hey” in return. Ravi doesn’t think anything of it, going back into his story but Buck cuts him off asking Eddie what his problem is. Eddie looks at him- shock, anger, hurt on his face- asking what Buck just said.

Cut to Hen sighing as she sits down in the loft. Chim is silently sitting at the table, eating his breakfast. She comments on the weekend being rough, saying that the kids were all out of the house and she was bored out of her mind with no one there. Chimney scoffs at that, Hen asking what’s the matter.

We see interspersed Athena’s montage of calls.

Buck repeats himself asking what Eddie’s problem is.

Chim tells Hen that he missed Jee’s first dance recital because he was so bone tired from all the paperwork he had to do that he fell asleep in the officd.

Eddie squares up and says Buck is his problem. Ravi asking no one in particular “uhh what’s going on” but he gets ignored.

Hen asks why Chim is catching an attitude with her, and he snaps- telling her its her fault for not accepting the job that everyone assumed she wanted having been interim captain for before that now he’s having to donit and is missing important milestones in his kids’ lives while Hen is sitting still home apparently twiddling her thumbs.

Eddie tells Buck that ever since he moved back with Chris, it’s like Buck doesn’t even exist anymore- that he moved out without even mentioning it to Eddie, he stopped coming over, and that Chris keeps asking what he did wrong. Buck tells Eddie that he’s not ignoring them to which Eddie tells him that it sure feels like it.

Hen, getting defensive, tells Chim that he’s being unfair, but Chim snaps back that it’s unfair that he’s missing his kids’ lives because he’s doing what should be Hen’s job.

At that moment the small earthquake hits. Chim jumps to action telling everyone to standby and be prepared for calls to come rolling in any moment. Hen grabs Chim’s arm, stopping him from walking away. She asks if Chim really blames her for all of it, and Chim frowns, telling her that he doesn’t see who else’s fault it would be.

Just then, the station begins rumbling again- Chim saying “aftershock” before they start hearing screams from outside, followed by large crashes. Chim looks out on of the windows and notices the sight if rubble falling from the sky- realizing what must be happening. He shouts out over the firehouse for everyone to take cover right as a wave if debris and rubble crashes into the fire house.

After a few moments, Hen and Chim help each other to their feet- asking if each other is alright before assessing the damage. Chim mutters “holy shit” under his breath as the camera turns around to show almost the entirety of the engine bat filled with rubble- burrying the engine, ladder truck, and rig under layers if debris. Buck, Eddie and Ravi are all unharmed and trapped in the locker room while a few other A shift members are scattered around the firehouse with small cuts and bruises. Hen says “that’s not good” before the scene cuts to black.

Roll Credits

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Sometimes I think this:

This writer is of the firm belief that our tears become holy in the form of ink on a page. Once we have spoken our saddest story, we can be free of it. And then all that’s left behind is the tortured poetry.

Might be one of the most insightful statements Taylor has ever said about her creative process and gets lost in the discourse about "what" or "who" her songs are about.

[hephaestuscrew]

Pan-Pan, Boléro, and Minkowski's different responses to loss

I want to compare two key lines of Minkowski's which indicate very different responses to grief:

In Ep29 Pan-Pan, Minkowski breaks down and says "Doug Eiffel is gone! There was nothing we could do to save him. It wasn't anyone's fault. It's horrible, and pointless, and it just happened."

In contrast, after arriving at the funeral in Ep46 Boléro, she says "[Lovelace, Hilbert and Maxwell are dead] to make the fact that we're not gone yet important. They're gone... so that we never forget how important it is that we're still here." 

TL;DR: In Pan-Pan, Minkowski expresses her unprocessed grief through despair and hopelessness. Whereas in Boléro, she is able to find hope in the loss and lead her crew in trying to move forward. I suggest a significant reason of the difference is the presence of Eiffel to force Minkowski to confront and process the sense of loss.

Pan-Pan: "It's horrible, and pointless, and it just happened"

In Pan-Pan, the whole episode is full of anger and despair, but Minkowski speaking about the horrible pointlessness of losing Eiffel is one of the most painful and hopeless moments. It doesn't feel like she's really speaking to the others. She's focused on her internal despair (as suggested by the fact that she goes on to talk about the cracks, which Lovelace and Hilbert aren't supposed to know about).

The only potentially positive thing Minkowski says here is her recognition that "it wasn't anyone's fault". When Hera and Hilbert have been blaming Lovelace, and Minkowski has been blaming herself, it's significant that she acknowledges that sometimes a horrible thing just happens without there being anyone to blame. 

But in this context, and in the tone of voice Minkowski uses, even the lack of blame doesn't really feel like a positive thing. If Eiffel becoming stranded was just pointless and random, if there was nothing any of them could have done to save him, then the next tragedy might be just as unpredictable and unpreventable. Minkowski strikes me as the kind of person who can sometimes fall into the trap of subconsciously wishing that the awful thing is her fault because then at least she'd have control over something. In her train of thought here, the lack of blame is followed by focusing on how horrible and pointless what happened to Eiffel was. The only conclusion she can draw is "it just happened". There's no sense of hope in those lines. Eiffel being stranded just happened, and so do the cracks, and the crew are at the whims of brutal fortune with no meaning to any of it.

Boléro: "They're gone... so that we never forget how important it is that we're still here"

In Boléro, Minkowski can't even say that the tragedy wasn't anyone's fault. For each of the deaths, someone pulled a trigger. There is blame, and some of it lies at her feet. She didn't want to come to the funeral because at first she didn't know what she could say about the deaths she feels responsible for.

Yet even so, this time she finds something reassuring she can say to her crew, a grain of hope she can provide without attempting to diminish the loss: "[they're gone] to make the fact that we're not gone yet important. They're gone... so that we never forget how important it is that we're still here."

In another show, or another context, this kind of line might have had an 'everything happens for a reason' tone, which is something I deeply dislike as a response to other people's loss. But it doesn't feel like that's what Minkowski is saying here at all. She isn't trying to make any grand philosophical statement about the ultimate beneficence of the universe, or about how mortality gives meaning to human life. What she says here is working on a much more personal level. It's more about finding something other than despair that the crew can take from what has happened. This tragedy may still be horrible, but it provides a reminder that they are still alive in a context where that's far from guaranteed. Minkowski emphasises that the fact the survivors are alive matters - her crew matters. I'd argue that this contrasts with the 'it just happened' outlook discussed above. 

I don't know how much Minkowski fully feels the importance of them still being there in the moment, but it's something that she can offer her crew, something that she can say in a situation that words can't grasp. I think the moment when she joins the funeral is such a key moment of her leadership. In the end, despite her doubts and struggles, she's there for her crew. Eiffel brought them together for a funeral, but he doesn't know what to say when Hera asks why they have to be gone. Minkowski enters just at the right moment to support her crew and she provides an answer to Hera's question. It's not a perfect answer, but it allows the funeral to move forward. It allows the crew to move forward (even if that emotional movement is somewhat thrown off by a dramatic change in the circumstances). Minkowski starts off the eulogies; she leads her crew in the acknowledgement of what's been lost.

Why such a difference in responses?

There's lots of ways you could interpret the difference between the outlook of these two moments, and there's probably more to say about it though the lens of Minkowski's character development than I'm going to say here. But for me, the main difference between these moments is that, in Pan-Pan, it feels like no processing or recognition of grief has really occurred. When Minkowski says "Doug Eiffel is gone!", it almost feels like the first time that Minkowski has fully confronted and acknowledged the loss. Eiffel has been lost in space for 116 days, but it's only at the end of this episode that Minkowski brings herself to say in her distress calls that he is "presumed dead". Whereas in Boléro, she's already eulogising the dead and thinking about what can be learned from the loss, not even a full day after the mutiny.

Obviously there is much less ambiguity to a body bag (or least there would be, if not for alien interference). But I can't help thinking that the difference between the attitudes towards loss which Minkowski displays in these two quotes is less about the difference in the kind of loss, and more about a situation that prompted and enabled the processing of emotions in Boléro: namely, the funeral. After Eiffel was stranded in space, I think Minkowski probably went months without looking her grief in the eye. But after the deaths of Lovelace, Hilbert, and Maxwell, Eiffel's suggestion of a funeral forces Minkowski to confront her complicated emotions and provides a space in which she can offer direction to her grieving crew.

This is a good illustration of how I think Minkowski and Eiffel complement and support each other in a really valuable way. On his own, Eiffel couldn't provide the leadership that the crew needed for the funeral to work. But without Eiffel, and his determination to recognise the emotional weight of the three deaths, the funeral would never have happened and Minkowski would never have been in a position to provide hope and direction to her crew. When Eiffel was the one the Hephaestus crew were grieving, Minkowski couldn't offer much emotional direction to her crew beyond despair. But when Eiffel is beside her in the grief, saying that the grief deserves to be felt, then Minkowski can find a way for them to move forward emotionally. It's not the deaths that remind them how important it is that they are still here. It's the grief. It's the ability to confront that grief together.

[crimeronan]

i'm working on the next wwaitsoatl chapter, which as i've previously mentioned is by FAR my most involved story as far as, like, technical process goes. i finished the second draft of the chapter and went "god, wow, this is all shit, this all sucks so bad, i'm never gonna be able to make anything usable out of this" and then stepped away for a few hours and now i'm midway through the first editing pass and i just keep going "oh my god. oh my god. holy Shit this is gonna bang so fucking hard once i fix it all. oh this is gonna go so hard there's so much potential. fuck YES oh my GOD my HORRIBLE LITTLE BITCHES ARE BACK-"

[beautifel]

seems like my heart does nothing but break lately

[cephalopod-celabrator]

I think one of Pratchett's great skills in writing was being able to make silly things serious, in different ways. Like, there's a fairy godmother forcing everyone into fairystales, how fun! Except in the process, she has stopped seeing them as people. She's forcing people to live lives they don't want to because she decides that's how it has to be. Sometimes she goes so far as to violate her victim's minds and deform and puppet their bodies so they'll play their part right, and anyone who doesn't do their job gets mercilessly killed. And there's a zombie activist named Reg Shoe who buries himself every year out of solidarity for the dead, how funny! Except he is filled with a genuine passion for justice and improvement in the world, and that's why he literally refuses to die. And he buries himself on a holiday that happens to be the anniversery of his own death, and he does it next to the bodies of the friends and strangers he fought alongside, the ones who didn't get to come back, so he spends one day with them. There is still a lot of silliness in discworld, a lot that's wacky and funny, but a lot of it, when you think about it, is oddly beautiful or touching or disturbing or something else entirely.

[angel-eyes05]

going over easy

pairing: bob reynolds x powered!thunderbolts!fem!reader

summary: two of the same. after breaking through inital barriers, you and the sentry appear to be inseperable, a pull almost forcing you two to each other. the strength of that pull has been getting pretty testy recently, and the two of you begin to wonder who you are to the other.

warnings/info: nsfw and mdni warning by the end of the fic, ill section off that part if you just wanna read the cutey parts, veryyyyyyy soft sex, no use of y/n, this bob is gonna be a little different from how i see him in a lot of other fics so disclaimer about that ig, but dw he's still very soft and sweet, oral sex and fingering (f!receiving), self depreciation on readers side, lots of my headcanons are gonna shine through here, reader is powered as well (yes that is gonna play into this lol) and is less of a blank slate than usual (aka shes kinda side rip), a scene in the void so we can know reader a little more and just for plot purposes lol, bob's powers are gonna be limited to whatever we saw showcased in thunderbolts so please dont get picky if somethings comic inaccurate thanks, its bob so ofc theres a little bit of angst too but dw this is very fluffy as well we love being well rounded lol

word count: 13.3k

notes: so guess who's obsessed with thunderbolts now.....and guess what half of the reasoning is.....if your guess was a man YOUD BE RIGHT!!!! i had to write for him ofc, i put a steve harrington fic on pause for this i had to jump on it lol. one thing i will say about bob fics that annoy me is that ofc everyone turns bob into a cutesy pootsy uwu boy which, hate me or whatever, he is NOTTTTT to me, that man was so sassy and sarcastic in the vault (to walker especially lol) so i wanted that to come out a little more here while still being his naturally sweet and soft self. i go a little bit into 2016 mcu fandom mode on some of the early character descriptions and relationships BUT CAN YOU BLAME A GIRL CAUSE IT FEELS SO GOOD TO BE BACK, I JUST HAD TO </3. i also didnt proofread this cause yet again its like 1am when im posting this and im so tired so if you catch anything uhhhh my bad lol. anyways this is standard to most of my other fics, so have fun lol enjoy!!!

dividers by: @cafekitsune

You always overcooked your eggs. It was part of your routine at this point in your life. As a kid, your irrationally large fear of getting salmonella caused you to force your mom to always burn your eggs, chicken, and other foods of the sorts. It didn't even taste bad to you. It was all you had ever known. Uncomfortable, but natural. You scooped the rubbery eggs out of the pan and onto your plate while you attempted to squirt whatever ketchup you could out of the bottle. Taking your lunch, you leaned on the kitchen island and stared out of the sweeping windows of The Watchtower.

Valentina finding you was complicated. On one hand, you were out of the hell hole of a compound you called a home. However though, her manipulation paired with constant missions and training proved to be its own task entirely. And still with all that, your mind had a knack for traveling back to that dark, damp room. Like a looming threat over your head that if you ever messed up, that's where you would return.

That fear pushed you for the past few years. You worked till your bones cracked fixing up Valentina's messes. It was monotonous, but you had convinced yourself to be grateful for the opportunity to become something more with what you had. You had a special gift after all. Thrusted onto you, sure, but Valentina said that it meant you were worth something now. A living shield and sword. Each time you got hit, your body was able to process the kinetic energy into physical blasts. Meaning dodging an attack was actually bad form on your part. So you got hit. A lot. Most days you'd stumble back to your apartment, knocked in the head so silly you didn't know what was up or down.

But it was good work. Kept you busy. That was until Valentina attempted to have you assassinated, trying to tie up all her loose ends. That's all you were to her at the end of the day. A fly on the way she had to clean up before her guests arrived. Turns out though, she had lots of other flies on the walls, who would in fact turn their forces against her, becoming the world's New Avengers in the process.

One of Yelena's first personal tasks on the job was to find any other lost associates of Valentina. Lucky for you, you fell right into that category. After proving yourself physically capable and trustworthy to her and the rest of the team, you eventually joined as an official member. Your rise to glory had been long and tough, but man was the view from the top nice.

As you grew closer with each of the teammates, you noticed each of their little knick-knacks. Yelena was very easy to let you in, almost like she was begging to share herself with someone else. She must've gotten it from her father, Alexei. He didn't take anything more than four hours to warm up to you. The other three went at a much slower pace, Ava and you eventually bonding over your mutual teasing for Walker, who you made sure knew it was all in good fun. Bucky was last, but it seemed thats how he was with most people. You let him take his time, which seemed to work well in the end. All of them had made their way.

Well. Almost.

Bob was kind of a weird guy. He was kind of an Avenger? But not really? If anything, he was more of their dog that would show up to public appearances with you and the team, but never missions. He spent most of his time lounging around or cleaning up the Watchtower, or in sessions with his therapist. He was always looming around, but kept a specific distance. Mainly physical. Whenever you'd seem to be about to brush by him, he'd scatter away, like a cat who got spooked. You had talked to Yelena about it before, but she said to just give him his time. That this was probably natural after his "incident" a few months back.

You weren't in New York for it, but it of course was on the news everywhere. How a sea of black ink had devoured the city and all of its civilians in their own personalized trauma nightmare. Something you were secretly grateful to have missed. You knew exactly what you'd see if you were in there.

In the recent time of your arrival, you had managed to find and take up your role in your little group. Their own little weird mage, banned from making food for anyone but yourself. No one else liked your burnt food, big shocker.

As you wrapped up with said burnt lunch, you took your plate and utensils to the sink, as a pair of bare feet patted into the room. "Good morning sleepyhead," you called out, knowing who they belonged to already. "Morning's a bit of a stretch, it's like what, 1:30 already?" Bob replied, mid yawn. "I told you guys to start forcing me up earlier," he complained. "Yeah yeah, but Yelena says it's good for you. Your body needs its rest after the serum treatment," you retorted. "Doesn't..." he paused mid sentence to check his sleep tracker on his watch. "....14 hours seem like a little much?" "Hey, your body's gonna take what it needs," you said, finally turning around to face him. He was wearing his usual lounge outfit, a gigantic, comically oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. His body had grown incredibly sensitive to touch after the serum, so the less fabric tightening down on him, the better.

Bob gave a half smile to your comment and attempted to wipe the drowsiness off his face. "You can leave that for me, it's fine," Bob commented, as you took the dish soap and drizzled it over your dirty plate and pan. "I don't mind, I'm already here anyways," you insisted, turning on the tap. Bob sighed and shrugged his shoulders backwards in an attempt to wake his body up. "Alright, but I'm taking charge on the stovetop," he insisted, walking over to your area.

Something must've been in the air today, because this was the most Bob had talked to you in a while, and this was definitely the closest he had stood near you ever before. His presence was a sweet one, as he himself was a sweet guy. You had seen it in the way he acted with everyone else. You knew it probably had to deal with the fact that you were the newcomer, a different face than what he was used to, but you wanted to badly to have something that close with him too. A deep, lingering jealousy had proved to be a close friend of yours when you would see how he would act with John or Yelena compared to how he would act with you.

Hopefully, this was a step in the right direction.

"You know where the others went?" Bob almost immediately asked.

Or maybe not.

"Downstairs in a meeting with Valentina. I got a pass to skip on this one." In the last meeting you had been to, Bucky had to hold you down before you had the chance to blast her smug smirk off her face.

Bob made a hum in acknowledgment. "Can I ask you something?" He nodded, which you caught out of the corner of your eye. "How do you feel about....her?" Bob paused for a moment.

When Yelena had told you Valentina was at majority blame for The Void Incident, you had no doubt in believing it. You didn't know how the others were so okay with it, but Ms. de Fontaine being your boss still unsettled you. You didn't like the idea that she was still overseeing all of your actions and controlling how you were supposed to be acting towards the public. Especially after the shit she's pulled. Once Yelena explained the situation, about the blackmail shock collar the team had on her if she ever took anything too far, you felt a little more at ease about it. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake off the paranoia about being in this situation with her.

"Fine," Bob responded. You placed the plate down in the sink and turned to face him finally. "That's all you're gonna give me? Fine?" He gave a deep, annoyed sigh. "Well what do you want me to say? That I don't like her? That I don't trust her? That she's the reason I'm like this now and when it didn't go the way she planned, she killed me? Hmm?" You froze a little bit. You hadn't seen this side of him before. The team said it came out a little bit when he would go "Sentry-Mode" (a name made on Alexei's part). You sighed and went back to washing your dish. Bob rubbed his face again. "Sorry, I just thought it was pointless to state the obvious." You smirked a little bit. "Well that's one thing right. Just trying to fill the air I guess." "I know....sorry, that was mean." There's the Bob you know. Always apologizing. "You're good."

The air was stuffy with a tension for the next few minutes while you cleaned the kitchen. Up until a wet glass plate slipped out of your hands and crashed onto the floor, shattering into a billion little pieces. Bob flinched at the sound, on the other side of the island wiping down the counter. You froze and chuckled to yourself a bit. "Woah, you okay?" he asked, concerned. "Yeah, yeah, just a bit of a ditz today," you said, wiping your hand across your face. "You're good, just stay where you are for a sec, I don't want you to get any in your feet," Bob warned, going into first responder mode as he assessed the situation. "I wanna try this out for a second," he insisted.

You watched closely and stilly, as Bob took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and put his hands out. Suddenly, the glass shards around your feet jittered and lifted into the air slowly, as Bob opened his eyes and guided them to the trash can. Once he was done, he released his breath and dropped his hands. "Well look at mister big shot powers over here!" you cheered. "Bucky let you start practicing again recently?" "Yeah, a little bit here and there just so I don't go overboard again," he blushed a light pink. "Keep it up," you smiled at him.

Before you took another step, you looked down at the ground and noticed a particularly large piece of glass. "Oops, looks like you missed one hot-rod." "Shit, sorry, let me try one more time," he said closing his eyes again. "No no, don't worry, it's fine, I'll just pick this one up," you insisted, reaching down to pick it up. "No, wait, you'll cut yourself!" Bob shouted, almost running over to reach you. "Bob, it's fine I pro-."

As Bob's hand grabbed onto your wrist, you felt a spike of shivers roll down your arm. The first time he had made contact with you, and his hands were so soft....

You couldn't focus on it for long though, looking up and seeing a face of pure horror on Bob's face. You looked at him confused. You were quick to join him though as streams of black slithered across the floor and over your eyes. The last thing you remember was Bob's hand ripping off your wrist, desperately called out your name as the shadows took his place.

~~~~~

Your eyes peeled open, as you tried to assess your surroundings after the chaos. It was eerily quiet, a leaky faucet dripping as the only sound. The room was dark, damp, and cold. Concrete floors and walls, a chamber pot in the corner, and a cot with a wrinkled, thin blanket shoved against the wall. After your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you saw her. The lone decoration of the room. A poster of 1961's Breakfast at Tiffany's, Audrey Hepburn's face faded and discolored with time. The more you stared, the more you recognized this room. You knew where you were. And worst of all, you knew exactly what day this was.

With almost perfect timing, the metal door slide open with angry force. Three armored men burst into the room, as you heard something shuffle itself across the floor. You didn't even notice her at first.

A girl, shoved up into the corner of the wall, head hanging over the chamber pot as she wiped the bile off her mouth. Your memory was fuzzy, but she couldn't have been older than 17 at the time. With short, flat, oily, botched up hair. Wires were bursting out of her neck and down her back, connecting her to a running machine in the wall for vitals.

You. An older one.

The most notable feature was her frame. You would expect someone in this situation to look malnourished, seconds away from death. On the contrary, uncanny muscles were bulging out of her arms and upper back, like they were clawing to be let out. A product of the treatment, like a sumo wrestler on steroids.

The men rushed over to that version of you, ripping the wires out of her neck and latching on a power damper collar in their place. That collar itself was an omen. Can't torture the girl who can absorb the pain and shoot it back out. You'd just be throwing fuel onto the fire.

They forced younger you up to your feet as their superior walked into your room. You could feel your heart stop in your chest as you searched in desperation for a way out. You called out for Bob, Yelena, anyone at all. Almost like your mind was in tune with your decisions, the metal door slammed shut just before you could run out. You leaned your head on the door, not bearing to look, barely standing to listen.

Your old superior examined younger you and the rest of the room, the poster in particular. He smiled sadistically at it. "A real stunner she was, eh?" You scoffed at his words while younger you darted her eyes away. In one swift movement, he ripped the poster down to reveal a makeshift hole halfway into the wall. Your escape route. Taking a deep breath, you finally turned around to face the incoming carnage.

"You think you're smart huh?" the man asked her. Younger you tilted her head up, looking him straight in the eyes, too worn down to care what would happen to her. He smirked. Her silence was enough of an answer. He snapped at his employees, one of them slamming the butt of his gun into her temple in response. You couldn't help but flinch.

The superior slide open the metal door again, as his pawns dragged her unconscious body out the door, while you closely followed. The harsh hospital lights left a sting to your eyes as you traveled through your mind's endless hallways. Finally, you reached the chamber. The door slide open to reveal a dentist chair and an array of instruments littered throughout the room.

The men placed her down into the chair, one of them injecting a serum into her arm to wake her up. Younger you shot awake, pulled down by different leather restraints. Bile filled your mouth as you were reduced to being so helpless to just watch. A doctor followed into the room soon after the six of you, his face burned into your mind.

He took two long prongs, pinching them onto the skin of her elbow, and turned on a machine to send out electrical shocks. After a signal from the commander, he sent out the first wave. You couldn't help but turn your head away, holding back your own tears as phantom pains of remembrance ripped through your skin.

The worst part of all of this was how younger you barely struggled at all, only letting out blood curdling screams of pain. She had accepted her fate hours ago, knowing this was inevitable. Why fight it. It would only make it worse. It made you sick to your stomach. How much she had given up at this point.

A pause in the shocks. You turned your head back to see the commander walking up to the girl, sticking his face down to her's. "You knew this was going to happen?" The girl nodded her head slowly, with the energy she had left. He scoffed. "Then you're dumber than I thought." He stepped back again and signaled for the second wave.

Not baring to take it again, you went against your own judgement and rushed between the men, ripping the prongs off of the girl's body. You met her eyes for a split second.

Behind the numbness, you could see her fear. Roaring underneath the surface.

Before you could sense the rest, you felt a slam into your own temple, knocking you down to the floor. You looked up to see all the men looking at you now, the first time they had done so. The commander pushed past them, staring you down. He crouched down to your level, pushing a stray hair back behind your ear as you shuddered. "Still the same dumb girl I see," he smirked.

In a split second, he grabbed your arm, attaching one of the prongs to it, as the still working machine sent hundreds of volts into your arm in a split second, slicing through your nerves.

~~~~

Before you had time to react to the pain, your body in the real world roared back to life, as you screamed and coughed to catch your breath. You found yourself sitting down in the middle of the kitchen as your hands scrambled all over the ground as you hyperventilated, trying to ground yourself. "Woah, woah, woah, easy, I got you, you're safe now!" You looked up and finally noticed Yelena sitting on the ground in front of you. She had both hands placed on your shoulders, looking deep into your eyes to help you center yourself. You frantically looked around the room, finding the other team members close by, staring at you. Eventually, you found Bob, walking out of the room with Bucky close on his tail. You wanted to talk to him, knowing he was probably upset too, but you had bigger things on your mind.

"I.....I..." You couldn't get the words out. Before you could try again, Yelena softly pulled you into a hug, that you returned very quickly. "You're good now, okay?" she asked. You nodded gently into her shoulder. With more deep breaths and a few tears, you eventually were brought back down. You pulled out of the hug, and began to stand on your feet.

"Yelena, I told you I needed the team up to the helicopter deck in five minutes, do you guys take pleasure in disobeying me or wha-." Valentina bursted out of the elevator, rambling on about what they were probably discussing in the meeting. She only paused after noticing the obvious tension in the room. She looked at you, hunched over and mascara running down your face. "Well what happened to you this time?"

~~~~~~~

The ambient blue glow of the tv washed over your face, as your eyes glazed over the screen. In the few hours since the incident, the team decided it was best for you to sit out on this mission. So you had cooped yourself up in your room, trying anything to distract your mind from going back to that place. Every now and again, you'd hear light pacing footsteps in the hallway outside your door.

You hadn't spoken to Bob since you went under. He hadn't made any attempts to apologize yet. Yelena said it would probably take some time and she would talk to him as soon as she got back. You didn't want to wait until then to make things right, but knowing how fragile both of you were at the moment, you didn't want to accidentally make anything worse.

When the footsteps finally stopped, you sat up a little bit in your bed. Three soft knocks followed. You paused. "Come in." It wasn't him.

Ava gave you a soft "Hi" before stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "How was the mission?" you asked her. She shrugged her shoulders. "More of the same really, you didn't miss much." She gave a little hop onto your bed, laying down on her stomach next to you. "How you feeling?" You gave a little sigh to her. "A little better. I just think I need time." She nodded at your response, and gently held your hand. "You need me, you know where to find me, okay?" You smiled and nodded at her kind gesture. Ava put up a front with the rest of the time, teasing many of the others and acting nonchalant. But something else came out in her around you. That little girl, normally shoved under years of pain and killing.

"Can I ask you something?" you asked her. "Of course." You took a deep breath in and looked her in the eye. "Back when....he took over New York, what did you see?" Ava took a minute to think to herself. "Well, I went through three different rooms to find Bob and Yelena at the center." You adjusted yourself to a more comfortable, open position, trying to create a more welcoming energy in the room as Ava got vulnerable with you. "First room was with my parents and how I got....this way." She took off one of her gloves from her suit, showing her hand phasing between multiple quantum planes at once. A painful experience, she described it as. "Second room was one of my first missions with S.H.I.E.L.D., I had to take out an unarmed doctor."

She twiddled with her fingers, looking down as she picked at the nails. "Last one was a fight I had with an old friend.....he was trying to protect me from....myself I guess....said a lot of things I regret." You frowned down at her, placing a hand on her back to rub it in condolences. "That Bill guy you were talking about earlier, right?" She nodded. "But anyways, I've learned not to dwell on it anymore. My life is different now." She looked up at you. "All of ours are now." You nodded in acknowledgment.

"We're never gonna let those bastards get you again. Can you trust me on that?" She held your face between her hands. You nodded. She looked at you deeper. "I can. All of you," you verbalized. She sat up and pulled you in tightly for a hug. Ava was your best friend. You could trust her more than anyone else here on that.

As she pulled away, she cleared her throat. "Can I ask you a question now?" You nodded. "Do you blame Bob for what happened?"

You took a second.

"No." Ava raised an eyebrow at you. "I really don't." "Okay good, just making sure." You smiled at her. "Is Yelena talking to him?" "She's gonna try to at least," Ava sighed. "He's gonna be like this for a while. Scampery, avoidant. We've learned it's best to let him work through it." You nodded. "But he's gonna be okay, right?" Ava looked up at you, slight confusion in her eyebrows. "Yeah....." You nodded. "Okay....good."

Ava sat in silence for a little bit. "You care more about him being okay than you being okay?" You looked at her, clogs turning in your mind. "When you put it like that, I guess." She looked even more confused now. "Why?"

.....

"I don't know."

~~~~~~~

The next few days were spent with you trying to answer that question for yourself. You and Bob's relationship before this was never a super close one. You always naturally kept a distance from each other. It didn't make much of a difference if things went back to normal from this or not. So why did it matter? Why did it matter if he started talking to you again? Because man did you want him to again. And badly too.

It was like he was playing a prank on you at this point. Every time you would enter a room he was in too, he would find some excuse to leave, leaving you with a sour taste in your mouth. You knew the other team members noticed it too, because you would see one of them usually follow out of the room with him to confront him. You didn't want him to take the blame for this. You knew he was just taking this healing stage at his own pace. But man did you just wish his pace would go a little faster.

At least he wouldn't go on missions with you guys, then you'd really be screwed.

You tended to forget a very important fact because of that.

"Val needs you all downstairs in an hour, there's that press conference about the rebranding today." You could hear Mel talking to the group from your cracked bedroom door. You had been snooping in there, since Bob was in the control room outside with everyone else. "Bob, she wants you there too this time, says the more members there in support, the better."

Shit.

You could hear his whiny groan from your room. "Do I have to?" "Unless you wanna tell Val yourself." That must've been a huge wake up call for him, cause you could hear him rush your way to his room to get ready. He made split second eye contact with you before closing the door. Your heart almost broke with the swiftness his eyes darted away.

You closed your door and started getting ready yourself before you had to take orders from anyone. Most press meetings required a more casual, business attire. Ones like this however, required full glam, full hair, and full costume. You were particularly fast at the getting ready process, especially since you didn't have a thousand gun holsters you had to fasted on, unlike your other team members.

Your costume was also fairly simple. With the nature of your powers, your previous suits had a knack for getting the sleeves torn off, so you decided to replace that design with a simple, black, mock neck bodysuit. Your pants were standard black cargo pants, multiple pockets in case you needed any physical weapons on you in an emergency. They were tied off with a pair of heavy duty combat boots.

For press conferences, Valentina usually requested you to go the most glam with hair and makeup out of the group, since the other two girls were slightly opposed to it. So once that was finally done, you walked out of your room into the control deck, ready to go.

You usually sat there for a good amount of time by yourself, until one of the guys would join you. But this time, Yelena was the first one out after you, albeit half dressed, in the middle of doing her eyeliner, and a makeup bag in her hand.

She looked at you, slightly distressed. "What's up?" you asked. She clenched her teeth. "You're gonna say no, I know it." "Can you just ask me?" She took in a deep sigh. "Can you help Bob with his hair and makeup?" It took every bone in your body not to burst out laughing at her request.

For Valentina and the press, everyone in the tower had to be dressed up. Including the guys. Not too much, but some to cover up most of their "tough guy" looks. Almost like a stage makeup of sorts. The stylists you guys had were always wrangled up with Alexei and Walker, always opposed to the idea and needing extra support, so Yelena would take care of Bob's and Bucky would handle his own.

"I'm already running behind and Val wants Barnes and I down early to practice responses." You looked at her, baffled. "And Ava can't do it?" Yelena raised her eyebrows at you. "It's a miracle Ava can do her own." True, unfortunately. "Yelena, you're kidding me right?" She walked closer to the couch you were sitting at. "He's a grown man, can't he do it himself?" "Yes, but unfortunately he's also a very slow learner too." You shook your head to yourself. "Have you even been in the tower for the past week, he won't even look at me right now," you whispered. She sighed to herself. "I know I know, and this would be a one time thing I promise, I just really need the help right now."

You leaned back into the couch and washed your hands over your face. "And not to be an instigator, but I think it would help you two also." You snorted at her sentence, taking your hands off your eyes to see how serious her face was. You took a deep breath and thought it over for a second or two. "Fine," you gave her, deadpanned. "But you owe me so much right now." Yelena let out a sigh of relief. "I really do, thank you." She dropped the makeup bag, presumably filled with the tools you'd need, in your lap, and bolted towards her room.

~~~~~

The door to the room loomed over your head, seemingly getting taller with every passing second you stood in front of it. Biting the bullet, you finally gave four slight knocks on his door, the same knock Yelena used for all of you. Yes, it was a bit of a trick, but you knew he wouldn't have let you in otherwise. You heard a soft, kind "Come in" from the other side of the door that made your heart warm up ever so slightly. You took a deep breath, and slowly opened the door. Your heart froze up again when you saw the way his smile dropped when you walked in. He was dressed in his usual attire for conferences, a pressed, slightly too big for him, tuxedo with dress shoes. But of course, his hair was in its natural, shaggy mess and you could spot any upcoming pimples from a mile away. Your job for the afternoon.

"What ar-" "Before you kick me out can I explain!" you jumped in before he could interject. He waited a second before nodding. "Yelena had to go downstairs early and doesn't have the time to get you ready, and before you ask, yes everyone else is too busy, and yes, I am your last resort."

His eyes darted away from you and to the ground, the most of an invitation over as you were gonna get. You took a seat on his partially made bed, observing the rest of his room. It took you a second to remember that you've never been in here before. It was a lot cleaner than you expected it to be. Then again, he spent almost all of his time in the tower, so he had a lot more time to clean than the rest of you did.

There were scattered band posters on the dark blue walls of the room, and a few collected rocks lying on his T.V. stand. You opened up the bag and took out his hair gel first. Val liked his long, overgrown hair to be slicked back for press events. You squirted some of the gel on your hands and lathered it deep into them.

When you went for his hair though, he moved his head slightly back away from you. You immediately put your hands down in response. "Okay, let's get this straight now," you snapped. "I get you're mad at me for whatever reason, but I'm not gonna take this from you right now, especially when I'm trying to help you. So either grow the fuck up, or you can do it yourself, okay?" His eyes widened a little bit. You were never the mean type towards anyone on the team, but when your limits were tested like this, you had no choice but to respond.

Putting back any feelings he had, he straightened up and leaned closer into you. "Thank you," you responded. "I'll be quick, I promise. Out of your bubble in no time." Your hands tangled into his hair, pushing the light brown strands back in straight lines. Before it would get tangled in by the gel, you could feel how soft his hair was. Even if it was overgrown, you could tell he took pride in it.

As you pushed his hair back into a makeshift mullet, making sure the gel wasn't ruining his curls at the bottom, you noticed something. Just out of your peripherals, you could see his eyes, darting every which way. They couldn't stay still for more than a second. Sometimes they would be at your shoulders, at your legs, your hair. Most of the time though, they were trying to find where you weren't. But each time, they would land magnetically back to you.

You couldn't help but let out a little laugh to yourself, a little breath out of your nose. "What?" Bob reflexively asked. You smiled and shook your head. "I really don't get you, man." His brows furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" Finally finished with his hair, you untangled your hands and brought them back to you, his eyes following them. "Bob, you're scared shitless of me."

A glow of pink wiped over his cheeks. "N-no I'm not." You laughed right in his face, as you went into the makeup bag and pulled out primer, foundation, and concealer. You squeezed lines of primer from the bottle onto his face. Before you could use your hands to rub it in though, he quickly grabbed your wrist again. Same way as before. You froze for a second before you realized, nothing was happening. You weren't going back in. You realized why when you looked at Bob's face, focused now more than you had ever seen before.

Your face and demeanor softened. "Bob." His face turned to yours, fear glazing over his eyes, trying desperately to keep the void from taking you again. You took his calloused fingers in your hands, peeling them away from your wrist and holding it with your own. You looked into his deep blue eyes, almost lost in them.

"I'm not scared of you."

His breath shook at your words, and you could've sworn you saw his eyes slightly water up. "I never have been. And I don't plan on changing that." The tension in his body melted away at those magic words. His lips pursed inwards as he looked down at your hands intertwined. "Can you trust me on that?" He gave a slight nod to you. You took his chin to your hand and pulled it up to look at you. His eyes were fully watery now. "Can you?" It took him a second.

".....I can."

You smiled at him.

"Thank you," he whispered. You closed your eyes and nodded to him. "You're welcome." The two of you sat for a moment like this, hands tangled in each other and observing each other's faces. You noticed how large his hands were. You never really considered your hands as small either, so the fact they were still much bigger than yours surprised you. They were restless as well, constantly moving between your own fingers, like they were getting a feel for how yours were. This was the most you had ever seen him before, in more ways than one.

Eventually, you let his hand go and cleared your throat. "Let's get you ready now, I'd rather avoid an earful from Val after the conference." Bob nodded and sat up straight again, as you rubbed the primer into his face with your thumbs. His slightly stubbled chin tickled the pads of your fingers in an almost hypnotic notion. Before you even knew it, your hands were staying caressing his face. Bob didn't seem to mind it, his eyes slowly closing, and even leaning his face into your touch further.

The two of you immediately snapped out of it at the sound of Bob's door slamming open. Mel stood at the door, panting, hand leaning against the frame for support. "What the hell is taking so long?" she asked frantically. "Uhhhhhh." The lack of an answer you two could come up with only angered her more. She rolled her eyes and pointed to you. "Get downstairs, I'll finish up with him." You looked back to Bob, smiled, gave his cheek a quick pat as you stood up and walked out the door.

Before Mel closed the door behind you, you caught Bob's eyes, hypnotically following you. As if he was searching for you. For more.

~~~~~~

Something shifted between the two of you after that day. No more avoidance. You found Bob coming to you for anything now. Whether he was having one of his bad days, needed help cleaning something up, or even if he just wanted to watch a movie with someone. Equally, you found yourself going to him for almost anything. Almost.

The main difference between the two of you was Bob had told you everything about him. You knew him like a book. Every page studied and memorized. But when he would ask you something about your past, you always managed to slither out of the question. You didn't mean to be so secretive around him. It was more of a reflex at this point. You'd done it with everyone. He was included in that group.

You could tell it hurt him though. Knowing there was some part of you that either didn't trust him enough to know, or maybe just didn't want him to know at all. Hopefully with time you'd be able to open up, not just to him, to everyone. But that's all the two of you could do for now. Hope.

A sign of that coming close had finally appeared, a new impulse crossing your mind. Dating.

For obvious reasons, relationships had never been a top priority for you. But as things were slowing down in your life, you began to feel left out of the "dating in NYC" craze. Without much experience under your belt, you decided to go through the dating app route. That proved to be more challenging than you thought. "I don't think men on here have ever had a conversation with a woman before," you'd complain to Bob or Ava constantly, usually followed by a large eye roll from them.

Lightning seemed to have struck though. On your way home from grocery shopping, you managed to bump into a guy at your bus stop. It was something straight out of a movie, the way the wind knocked of your cap and he had managed to catch it for you. The two of you spent the entire bus ride talking, and he eventually asked you for your number once you reached your stop. Tonight was date night. He had planned a special dinner in the city, and the two of you would go dancing after.

"Are you sure this guy's not like some stalker or something? You are a superhero after all, there's weird fans all over the city," Ava protested. Her and Bob were sitting in your room as you got ready. She sat on your light yellow beanbag on the floor, tossing a crumpled up paper with the address to the restaurant on it into the air. Bob was laying down on your bed, extra quiet today for some reason, staring up at the ceiling.

"He's not, I promise, Bob saw him too, he can vouch for me," you waved her off, looking in your mirror trying to do your makeup. You could see Ava look to Bob behind you through the mirror. She raised her eyebrow at him, which he just shrugged off. "I'd just prefer you not get kidnapped tonight, so try to avoid that if you can," she turned back to you. "Ava, if he's a normal citizen, I'll have zero problems defending myself, if anything happens," you defended. You sprayed some setting spray onto your face, and got up to change into your outfit.

Your bedroom had an attached bathroom, so you went in there to change. Once you closed the door, you took off your current sweats and baggy turtleneck sweater and slipped on your outfit. Your date asked you to go a little more formal than normal first date, so you specially picked out your outfit from your closet: a black boat-neckline midi dress, with a little thigh slit for less formal environments. It was gifted to you a few years back, but you hadn't worn it since. There was one glaring issue you noticed.

Throughout your time in the lab, you had obviously developed some scars. You didn't mind most of them, being electrocution scars, which made for some pretty cool war stories. Photoshoot photographers were particular fans of those. Some scars, however, weren't exactly your favorites. The specific one being a thick, prominent scar, starting at your right collarbone and trailing up to the back of your neck. It was fairly recent, compared to the rest of your scars, so the fading process was far from beginning. It was part of the reason you stuck to turtleneck fashion so much. But with this dress here, it was finally out in the open, something you weren't so sure you were comfortable with.

After convincing yourself though, you were willing to bite the bullet if it meant looking all dolled up for once. After a final examination in the bathroom mirror, you took a step out the door to show off to your friends. Both of them seemed to jump back to the positions they were in before you walked into the bathroom, almost like they were gossiping girls before. But once they noticed you, the air in the room stopped.

Ava was the first one to give out a little supportive holler when you stepped out, getting a little giggle from you. "What are you waiting for, give us a twirl!" she shouted. Obliging, you gave a little curtsey and spin. Turning to Bob, you could see a little smile curling up from this mouth. "So, what do you think?" you asked him, hoping for some words out of him today. "You look beautiful. Really really beautiful." There was a slight tint of melancholy in his words. You believed what he said, that was sincere. But his smile was actively lying to you.

His eyes spoke the truth though. You watched him as his eyes traced the way your dress hugged your body, highlighting all the beautiful parts of you, leaving little to the imagination. You saw his eyes stop at your collarbone, and his smile faded away. Just before you could see his mouth open to ask about it, you jumped right in. "Well, I better get going, I don't wanna miss my train," you frantically said, grabbing your kitten heels and strapping them on.

Ava and Bob followed you out of your room and towards the elevator out of the tower. Ava gave you a tight hug, whispering a little "Text me if you think he's a killer," before letting go. Bob's body seemed to stutter a little bit before giving you a hug. He had been more in control of the void spreading through his touch, but he was still cautious over it. His hugs always felt like home. The way he would squeeze you just the right amount and how well your chin fit into the crook of his neck. His hand sat comfortably just above your hips, with always his pinky finger straying a bit lower and tracing your upper thigh. When he let go he stayed close to you for a second, his eyes just slightly lower than where yours were. "Be safe, okay?' he asked with full sincerity. You nodded and let go just before getting into the elevator. "I will."

~~~~~~~

You rested your back against the elevator, back at the tower and up to your room after the long night. You checked your phone for a time. 2:24 am. Hopefully everyone else would be asleep when you got back.

The date wasn't bad. Not at all. In fact, it was one of the better ones you could remember going on. Dinner was nice and you went down to this jazz bar for some dancing. He walked you back to the tower and the two of you even shared a quick kiss.

So why did you feel so....weird? The circumstances were perfect for a second date. You like the guy, you really did. But something about him kept you from getting truly comfortable with him that night. The little things. The way he insisted to the waiter on splitting the bill, the way you had to stop every taxi for the two of you, the way he'd cut off your sentences. The way he couldn't stop looking at the scar poisoning your neck. That one really got you.

Maybe it was just your anxiety highlighting it, but it seemed every time his eyes would trail away from yours, they would land right on that scar. Like he was trying to subconsciously let you know it was there. As if you didn't have to take the work to try and cover it up every day of your life. That irked you most of all. You felt awful about it, it wasn't his fault it was there. But no matter how hard you tried, whenever you thought about going on a second date with him, you couldn't erase the look in his eyes out of your mind.

As you examined it in the mirror in the elevator, the doors slid open to an empty living room and kitchen floor. You wiped the tiredness off of your face and turned on a dim overhead lamp, setting your purse on the kitchen island to grab a quick water bottle. Your ears perked up when you heard some stirring from the couch area. Following the noise arose a head of shaggy brown hair. Your face softened and smile lifted when you saw his head turn around to find you. "Hi," you whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Bob replied with a sleepy "Hey," eyes still lowered.

"Whatcha doing out here, shouldn't you be in bed?" you asked, walking over to the couch. "Couldn't sleep...came out here to city watch and try to get sleepy." Your head turned to the massive windows overlooking the night city, still so alive. Bob let out a small yawn and reached his arm over to where you were standing. You took his hand, allowing him to guide you over to sit next to him on the couch. His position was slouched and comfortable, still half asleep. He rested his head into your shoulder, sending a little nervous shiver into you. "How was it?" he asked, eyes closing. You sighed. "Good." He chuckled under his breath. "What's that for?" you asked, pointing your eyes down to him. "Someone who went on a good date wouldn't just say it was 'good'," he slyly slurred out. Maybe this is why you never see Bob right after he wakes up. This Bob was kind of an asshole.

"What, can I not go on a date that's just 'good'?" you asked, getting slightly mad with him. "Someone as special as you shouldn't have to lower herself to going on dates that are just 'good'." The words trailed off in volume on the way out, almost like he didn't even know they came out in the first place. But you managed to catch them. And they sent butterflies down into your stomach, a pink glow to your cheeks, and a stupid grin to your mouth.

You looked down at him, resting on your shoulder. His body leaned perfectly into yours, filling all the empty space with his own. His delicate hands rested in his lap while his eyelashes tickled the upper parts of his cheek. And his hair, his beautiful hair, curled perfectly at the ends, grazing against the back of your neck with the air of The Watchtower. You could fall asleep with him here for days, in perfect, complete serenity.

"So why was it just 'good'?" he finally asked after what seemed like minutes of silence. You thought to yourself. "Cause I'm not gonna go on a second date." He lifted his head off of your shoulder and looked at him, with a slight concern on his droopy face. "Did something happen?" "No no no, I promise," you quickly shut down the idea. "It's just....." He sat more at attention, rubbing his eyes to try and wake up more. You both turned to look at each other, the sides of your faces resting on the couch cushions. "He was fine, great even....I just...." You tried to find the words to describe what you were feeling. "C'mon honey, talk to me," Bob slipped out, in a deep, sleepy voice that sent waves through you.

"I can't see him being able to deal with me," you finally spoke. "What makes you think that?" You sighed. You sat up a little bit and pulled your hair back behind your neck and lifted up your chin. "You saw this earlier right?" Bob gave a soft hum and a nod in response. "I got this a while back, back when I was still in the labs you saw in my nightmare." His eyes focused in on the scar, trying to make it out with the little light in the room. "I wanted to ask earlier, but I didn't wanna upset you," he spoke. "I know you don't like talking about it." You smiled a little at his ability to know you so well.

"Well, on one of the missions I was sent on back there, I got injured real bad. Broke my clavicle and they could only fix it through surgery. But I wouldn't necessarily call their doctors 'top of the line', so the cleanup was messy." You brushed your hair back onto the scar to cover it up. "One of the many souvenirs they gave me," you attempted to joke. Bob smiled a little bit at it, but was still focused on your skin. "Anyways, I don't like looking at it much, it's one of my uglier scars, and when other people catch it, I can't help but worry about what they're thinking."

"What d'you think he was thinking about?" Bob asked, slouching his head back into the couch to secretly admire you. You slouched back too. "About how much of a piece of work I'm gonna be," you chuckled out, even if the thought made you wanna cry. You could see that same sadness in Bob's eyes as they trailed up to your eyes. You sighed and looked away from him to the window outside. "This is why I don't date," you joked, wiping your face.

"Hey." You looked back at him. "Can I do something I'm gonna regret once I'm more awake?" You raised an eyebrow at the suspicious statement. "Okay." He sat a little closer to you, bringing up a hand to your hair, looking to you for approval. You gave him a soft hum as he pulled the hair behind your neck again, and softly traced his thumb over the scar, leaving goosebumps in its trail.

As gently as he could, he brought his face closer and pressed his lips softly onto your clavicle. Your breath hitched, causing him to bring his face back again. His eyes bore into yours, ready to give an apology if you requested. But your hand encouraged his actions, tangling into the back of his hair and pushing his lips back in.

Bob's lips danced over your scar, as your breath got heavier and hands tugged on his roots in approval. His hands found their way to your hips, caressing you in all the right spots. You fought to keep in any sounds your mouth wanted to let out from his touch. But right as you could feel yourself getting to the good part, Bob placed his final kiss, releasing you as well. You rested your head back as Bob stood up from the couch, lending a hand out to you. "It's late, we can talk more tomorrow, but you need your rest for now." Bob almost seemed to snap out of whatever lustful spell was just over him. Or maybe you took what just happened the wrong way. You tried to process it in your head as you took his hand and stood up with him.

Hand in hand, he led you to your room. As he opened the door and let you inside, he leaned over you on the door frame with one more message: "If a man looks at you and his first thought is of is how much work you'll be, he's no man at all."

~~~~~~~~

His words stuck in your heart for the next few days as the two of you tried to pretend that nothing happened. Drowsy Bob was right, Awake Bob apologized to you profusely the next morning, claiming he had no idea what came over him that night. "....I didn't mind it," you confessed after his apology. Made him blush faster than you thought was humanly possible. After a long, embarrassingly awkward conversation, the two of you decided on an agreement.

Whenever you were feeling bad about yourself, physically specifically, you could go to his room and he'd help you....feel better. You weren't fuck buddies, that was for sure. You just happened to be friends who'd kiss each other's bodies multiple times a week. And it made you absolutely insane.

You couldn't even go to Ava about this, since you and Bob agreed it was best if this was a secretive thing. Truth is, this whole ordeal was making you obsessed with the guy. You couldn't get him out of your head. Him being your roommate only made things worse. You couldn't escape from him. You'd never wanted someone this much before, it was driving you mad.

All the problems in relationships you felt before seemed to disappear with him. Since that night, you found yourself opening up more and more to him. You knew each chapter of each other's lives. And that made you really fucking happy. Having someone you could trust with yourself utterly, wholly, and completely.

The late nights where he'd do nothing but kiss and hold you, like he knew the magic of his touch. But you were greedy. You needed more of him, but all the uncertainty just got in the way.

You knew this wasn't just a thing "friends" did. But not knowing the exact details of how he felt for you kept you from asking for more. What if this was something friends did in his mind? What if the only thing he felt for you was based in lust? You'd rather not have that potentially friendship ruining conversation, so you decided to take the "suffer in silence" route instead.

That wasn't your biggest worry at the moment though. No, that spot in your mind was currently being overshadowed by the bullet wound in your side. You weren't gonna die, your powers would take care of that step for you, but it still hurt like a bullet wound. You'd spent a couple hours on the medbay floor of The Watchtower getting patched up, now on your way up to join the rest of the team.

The minute the elevator doors opened, you were greeted by a giant hug from Alexei, shouting Russian expressions of joy. As endearing as it was, you had to have the rest of the team peel him off of you, as he was two seconds away from opening up your stitches. Once you caught your breath, you greeted the rest of the team, all glad for your recovery. Your smile dropped a little, after scanning the members in the room. "Where's Bob?" you asked. "His therapist wanted to extend his session a little bit today," Bucky answered. You nodded a little to yourself. "You know when he'll be back?" you asked, trying not to sound too needy. "Soon enough," Yelena giggled.

....

"Does he know about..." you gestured to your bandages, slightly pink from any leftover blood. In almost miracle timing, Bob stepped out of the elevator and into your conversation. "Hey, what's-," he started, before looking at you clutching your side. His eyes widened with fear. "Oh my god what happened?!" he shouted, rushing over to you. "It's fine, I'm fine, I just didn't dodge very well today and someone caught me off guard." In combat, you usually tried to avoid the gunslingers and sword masters for hand-to-hand instead. You got more energy from absorbing bullet wounds and cuts, but on a pain scale, you'd rather deal with working up multiple punches to the nose.

As Bob questioned your pain scale, it almost seemed as if the other teammates were slowly leaving the room one by one, until only you two were left in it. The two of you naturally made your way to the couch and talked about your days for what seemed like hours. You went over battle strategies, he debriefed about his appointment. Eventually, noticing the sun going down, you started to become aware of all the dirt and blood still sticking to your body. "Um, can I use your tub? I need to get the day off me before I start peeling my skin off," you joked, standing up off of the couch. "Sure, whatever you need," he insisted, getting up with you. The only teammates with bathtubs instead of showers in their rooms were Bob and Bucky, and in all honesty, you just wanted to be near Bob's presence right now.

The mixture of dried blood, sweat, and dirt stuck your suit straight onto your skin as you made a painful attempt to peel it off. You dropped the clothes to the floor, and examined the damage in your mirror, unraveling all your littered bandages. Your stitches seemed to be doing okay, but the rest of the little cuts and bruises on you made themselves apparent. Your powers were useful in the moment, but damn did the aftercare suck.

Wrapping a towel around yourself, you walked over to Bob's room, leaving a soft knock on the door. A freshly bathed Bob opened up the door, now in his own baggy pajamas, his curls still wet and dripping. "I just wanted a to take a quick soak before you got in, I got a new round of hot water running for you." You gave him a little smile and stepped inside; he closed the door behind you. "Thanks." You walked into the steaming bathroom, tub filled to the brim with hot water like he said. Bob's bathroom was a cozy, dimly lit room that smelled just like him; eucalyptus and peppermint oil, incense cones, and a touch of his cologne. It calmed you down almost immediately, and enough for you to ask your question.

"Can you...uh...help me while I'm in there?" you nervously asked. He raised his eyebrow a little bit at the question. "I-It just hurts to turn a little and I need to reach some spots on my back." He looked you over while he deliberated. "I don't wanna sound rude or anything but...you sure you're okay with me....seeing you?" he whispered that last little part. "I'm wearing a bathing suit under here, I don't mind you seeing that at least," you replied, anticipating his concern. "Oh....okay, yeah sure," he replied, scratching the back of his head.

You dropped your towel and placed it hanging over the sink. The black bikini you were wearing covered enough of you, but still allowed all your injuries to be visible. That first step into the tub was heavenly, the heat rolling down off your spine with a slight, but welcome tinge of pain. You closed your eyes and melted down into the water, Bob smiling at your relaxation. "God, I needed this," you breathed out. Bob walked up closer to you, sitting on the edge of the tub.

You sat there for a minute, body absorbing the heat and releasing the built up tension in your muscles from the day. Once you finally opened your eyes, you found Bob's eyes grazing over your body. "What is it?" you asked. A stupid grin found its way to his face, as he readjusted himself to begin helping you. "Nothing, don't worry."

Bob took a nearby loofa and his body wash, about to squeeze some onto it before you put your hand out. "This is gonna sound weird....can you use your hands?" You didn't bother giving an explanation, it wouldn't change the implications of that request. Bob gave a little nod. "Wait just, give me a sec." He quickly got up out of the room, closing the door behind him. You sat there within your own thoughts. Fuck, was that too much? you thought to yourself, praying you didn't scare him off.

After a few anxious minutes, Bob opened up the door, leaving you with a sight that made your heart stop.

He had traded in his pajamas for a pair of swim shorts. You had to fight to keep your jaw from going slack at the sight of him without a shirt on. He wasn't kidding, that serum really did do a lot of work.

First of all, you had seen his arm muscles before, frequently on display whenever he would wear a short sleeve shirt. But paired with his perfectly plumped chest, carved abs, and toned thighs, it was enough to kill a horse. Worst of all however, was his swim boxers, with a very flawed detail: they were about two sizes too small, and you couldn't tell if Bob was aware or not, but you could see it. It was bigger than you thought. You would need a tranquilizer to hide the blush on your face right now.

"I figured it'd be easier to just get in and help, and this is my only pair of trunks.....is it too much?" So he didn't know, huh. You swallowed back any urges you had and sat up a little bit more in the tub. "No, you're fine," you said, pushing your body back to make room for him in the small tub. He shuffled up and gently placed his legs in one by one, sinking in in front of you.

Bob took the body wash again, pouring some and lathering it between his hands. He motioned you to turn around so he could get your back area. Your back showed him about five scattered cuts and scratches and two large bruises by your lats. You could hear his breath shake a bit as he got closer to you. Naturally, you straightened out your back for him to work with a better canvas.

A sigh instinctively came out of your mouth when his hands came down on you, lathering the soap over your skin. His hands worked into you like putty, spreading the bubbles out evenly onto you. The callouses scratched onto your skin, and you felt a deep heat brewing into your chest. It only grew stronger when his fingers started digging into your muscles. Pain oozed out and away as his thumbs worked out the knots in your upper back. You had to bring a hand up to your mouth to keep a pleasurably moan from slipping out.

The deeper his fingers got into you, the more your body began to twitch, itching for more. The water sloshed around a little when you began to move back into him. And thats when you felt it. Your breath hitched when you caught it. He was achingly big, and you could tell by the throbbing you felt on your lower back. He must've noticed you felt it, since his fingers stopped moving. The two of you sat there for a minute in a hot tension.

Eventually, he picked up a cup sitting outside of the tub, filled it with the bathwater, and poured the soap off of your back. Putting it down, he inched slightly closer to you, his hands finding their way again back to your hips like so many times before. "Tell me where it hurts," he whispered into your ear. You tried to shake out your shivers and be honest with him, your mind needing him in one place but your body wanting him everywhere.

You took the safe route. You needed to keep control of yourself. As long as you could at least.

You pointed to a spot along your spine where one of the bruises lay. "Bend forward a little bit," he spoke, in that low, sultry voice again, almost commanding you. You listened. You moved. But unfortunately, you couldn't keep the moan inside you anymore when his lips grazed and kissed over the bruise. You could keep it quiet enough for him to, hopefully, not hear it however.

Your body adjusted and moved to fit him as his lips trailed up your spine, and eventually to the nape of your neck. He sucked on the tender skin, desperation in its trail. Before he could get too carried away though, he pulled himself off of you. His hot breath stuck to your back, as he took a moment to splash some of the steaming water onto his face. After clearing his throat, he asked you to turn back around and face him, which you did of course.

Finding his face, you could finally see the display of his emotions. The main one: a drunken look in his eyes to desperately hide a growing lust. You could tell. It was the same look in yours. Trying to continue with the bath, Bob took some more body was and drizzled it out onto your arms and upper chest. Sure, you could reach those parts of yourself fine, but what's wrong with letting a man take care of you every once in a while. And if this was how he was gonna do it, you'd be glad to give in.

He massaged the soap into your skin again, relaxing your tense arm muscles, a little gentler around your chest and collarbone area. He pressed a deep kiss into your clavicle scar, a tick for him at this point. His eyes stayed down on you, examining the way your skin fit onto your body. You brought your hand to meet his, currently pressing gentle circles onto your tricep. His eyes found a nice spot, staring at your lips, with you back at his. Trembles started to infect his hands and you could even see a slight quiver stain his lip.

"Does it hurt...anywhere here?" he gasped out. Taking the opportunity, you slowly brought your finger up to the tiniest cut you had on your chin. Smiling, he went in, almost taking your entire chin into his mouth. Your hands wrapped around his neck as his mouth moved to press sloppy kisses into your jawline. But that's all where he stayed. And you needed more than that.

Enough with the teasing, you let go of his neck and took his face in your hands, pulling his mouth away from you. He looked at you, beautiful, deep blue puppy eyes mixed with questioning and fear. "Do you remember what I told you Bob? When I was helping you get ready for the conference?" The fear left his eyes, as he realized what you were playing with here. "Remind me...." You smirked at his words. "When are you ever gonna stop being afraid of me?" you asked, eyes glued to his lips. He dropped his head and let out a defeated laugh. "It's never been you that I'm scared of....it's always been myself," he said, lifting his head back up and closer to yours. "And why's that?" The corner of his mouth lifted up as his hand went to cup your jaw, caressing it with his thumb. "Because I have to keep myself from tearing off my clothes and taking you in the living room each time you walk through that elevator."

Before you could respond to what he said, your body started moving on its own, slamming your lips into his, sloshing water everywhere. The kiss you shared was needy, hungry, and slow. Different from the ones he left littered over your body in the past. What surprised you the most about it was what fueled it. This was not a lustful kiss, which is what you had expected from him. This kiss was filled with a pure, tender, and firing love the two of you have silently shared for each other for the past few months.

His hands wrapped around your waist, hugging you closer into him and onto his laugh, where his raging erection made itself more apparent by the second. "You need me that bad, huh?" you teased, breaking away from the makeout and grinding your clothed cunt against it. Bob nodded profusely, leaning back into you to chase your lips, which you pulled back from. You bit your lip and smiled, wooed by his desperation for you. "Someone's excited, huh?" you joked. "Well, I'd rather not get waterlogged here, so how about we dry off, get these swimsuits off, and...." you leaned close to his ear. "...you can take me on your bed any way you want, how's that sound loverboy?" you bit down onto his earlobe

Bob let out a whispered moan and dropped his head into your shoulder, pressing soft kissed into it. "Yes, please," he replied. Before getting up though, he pulled you into a close hug, which you returned gladly. Bob may have a secret, shameful side you didn't know about, but at the end of the day, you couldn't take the lover out of him.

The two of you stepped out of the bathtub, drained the water, and took your towels to dry yourselves off. Once you were dried, you opened the bathroom door, releasing the steamy air into the rest of Bob room. The cold tinged both your skin, as you walked hand in hand to his bed. You were first to undress, slipping off your bikini bottoms and untying your top off. Bob could've sworn his life flashed before his eyes at that moment, as he admired your beautiful body. He quickly kicked off his trunks, allowing his cock to finally spring out to life. He playfully ran up and tackled you onto his bed, kissing into you neck as you let out playful giggles.

His mouth eventually found its way up to yours, as the two of you slipped each other's tongues into your mouths. His hands gently swept you underneath him on the bed, still careful with your injury. "I-fuck, I wanna taste you," he gasped out while you sucked marks onto his neck. "Do it," you whispered into his neck, giving it a little nibble.

He giggled to himself, as his mouth traced kissed down your neck, sternum, and stomach, all the way down to your hips. You lifted your head to look down at him. He smiled up at you as his hands grabbed into your thighs, bending your legs up. His thumb grazed along your leaking folds, already sending shivers into you. "You're so....beautiful," you could hear him whisper just before leaving his first of many soft kisses on your slit. His tongue slowly worked itself over your clit, as one of your hands found its way down into the roots of his hair.

For leverage, you pulled slight tugs onto his hair, which drove Bob bananas. Each pull only drove him further into your pussy, absorbing his own whines and moans. His tongue worked over each of your lips, memorizing the way it made his taste buds react. You tasted so good, he could sit here eating you for hours. Looking down at the sight underneath you only pushed you closer to the edge. His messy, slightly damp curls intertwined with your fingers, as he sloppily ate your pussy, juice dripping down the sides of his mouth. Game changer moment was when he brought in his digits, curling his pointer and middle finger into your swollen cunt.

An exaggerated moan of his name left your mouth, as your hips buckled into his hand, begging for more. "C'mon, you're doing so good for me baby, keep it up," he spoke into your inner thigh, leaving a little love bite in there that left you biting your tongue. As his fingers worked inside you, you wriggled over the sheets, trying to chase an oncoming high. "You're so perfect sweetheart, so perfect for me," he continuously praised.

The twitch in your lower stomach grew more powerful with the seconds, as fingers continued to hit your walls perfect, his teeth grazed your clit, and hot breath washed over you. "Bob, I-I," you started to moan out. "Do it for me baby, come for me here."

As the high washed over your body, a final moan rushed out, paired with another hip buckle and legs a twitching mess as Bob kissed into your pussy. Your juice coated all over his fingers, which added more growth to his member, if that was even possible right now. His fingers slid perfectly out of your aching pussy and into his own mouth, as he got a better taste for you. A smile curled its way onto his mouth as he sat back on his knees, watching you come down from your high.

Bob couldn't help but crawl back up to you. He had to watch this moment with his own eyes. Your heavy breaths hit his face as he leaned on his elbows to perfectly lay over him. Your cheeks glowed a heavy pink as you came down from your orgasm. "Was that good?" he asks. You couldn't help but let out at laugh at the question. Good? Did he see what happened just now? "You're adorable," you validated, love-drunk eyes gazing into his own.

He let a breath out of his nose, and dropped his whole body weight down onto you. You cried out in a fake pain and your body absorbed his heat into you. "Get off, you're killing me!" you joked. He shook his head vigorously. "No, you gotta do it yourself," he played back. You giggled and used whatever strength you had left over to try and push him off. To no avail of course. "Alright, you gotta help just a little, you're pure muscle sweetie." Bob sighed and lifted his body off of you just enough for you to roll him to the other side of the bed.

Before he could move again, you jumped on top of him, placing your own dead weight on top of him now. "You see, I'd play along now, but I'm scared I'd toss you off the bed," he said. True, best not to play games like this with someone who has super strength. "Ugh, no fair," you complained, dropping your head into his neck. You heard his awkwardly adorable laugh, making your heart soar, as he scratched the back of your head.

"C'mere, let me see you," he asked gently. You lifted your head up, a fake frown plastered on your face. The act didn't last long though when you saw his face.

The way he looked at you right now was the way girls had dreamed about since they were kids. His eyes softened with pure adoration for you, with his mouth curled into the dumbest grin. He spoke your name in a question. "Yeah?" He brought his hand up to cup your jaw, which you nuzzled your cheek into as his thumb traced over your lips. "I....I think..." he trailed off. "What is it?" His smile turned slightly more serious. "I think I love you." He paused. "I know I do."

If it weren't for his body heat grounding you into the moment, you would've sworn you were dreaming right now. Everything you've ever wanted was right here. It was all in him. It was him.

"I know I love you too."

The giddy look on his face could set you free, as both his hands grabbed your cheeks to pull you into his kiss stained lips. The two of you continued to kiss and roll all over the bed, as you prepared to continue the rest of your love filled night.

~~~~~~

Sun rays streamed through the breaks in the blinds of Bob's room. Your eyes attempted to adjust to the brightness as you awoke. Wrapped up in his sheets, blooming with his scent, you began to remember the dreamlike events of the night before. You turned to the other side of the bed, and there he was.

Like a painting, Bob laid next to you, still off in his hopefully pleasant dreams. Loose strand of hair fell in front of his sleeping face, his mouth slightly agape to breathe, still swollen lips. In fact, all of your souvenirs from the night before laid over him: scattered hickeys along his neck and shoulders, and nail scratches peeking over from his upper back. It was perfect. He was perfect.

His breath readjusted as he began to stir a bit, and finally, his lashes fluttered open to see you. A childlike smile painted your face as you saw his sleepy eyes adjust to you. "Good morning sleepyhead," you pressed into the tip of his nose as you kissed it. He smiled an eyes closed one to you. "Morning honey." You had found out last night how much of a pet-name user Bob was. You didn't mind at all. It only helped seal the "it feels like i'm in a movie" idea for you. "How'd you sleep," he asked with his eyes still closed. "Good, great even," you hummed. "And you?" His eyes opened and he leaned in closer to you to kiss you silly. "Best in years, honest truth."

After some morning talk, Bob got up to go to the kitchen, leaving you with some extra minutes for sleep. When he returned, it was with a plate of breakfast on a tray just for the two of you. It took a miracle for you not to jump over the bed and onto him then and there. The plate for you included all your favorites: blueberry Eggos, orange slices, and eggs. These weren't your usual eggs though. "I know you like them burnt, but by the time I remembered, I had taken them out of the pan and these were the last two," he apologized.

You inspected the eggs with your fork. It scared you a little, but you'd rather risk a stomach ache than hurt Bob's feelings right now. And plus, it was time to finally grow up. Taking them onto your fork, you took a deep breath, and put them in your mouth.

Chew, chew, chew. Swallow.

God, these were so much better than rubbery, burnt eggs. "These are so fucking good Bob, oh my god," you salivated. He smiled that dumb grin and climbed into bed next to you, as the two of you continued the rest of your morning together. It was nice to know you didn't have to burn your eggs anymore. The other side was better than you could've imagined.

a.n: AND THATS IT i hope you liked it lol. this is by FARRRRR the longest fic i've ever written and it took like a week and a half to write rip so i hope you all enjoyed it. please leave a note or interact if you did, i'd really appreciate it. alright thank you so much again, catch you on the next one BYEEEEEE

[junezsq]

compliments

harry james potter x fem!reader

summary: on the train ride back home for christmas break ron dares you to find out what harry likes about you

established relationship

warnings: it’s the awkward lavender train scene … so be prepared, unbreakable vow is mentioned, sad hermione :( year 6!

word count: 1.3k

a/n: this was the scene i came up with that made me decide i wanted to write for harry and turn it into this small interconnected series lmao. i love writing my oc’s into existing book/movie scenes, so pls lmk if you do so as well, and if you do; my requests are open<3

── ᵎᵎ ✦

you, ron and harry had settled into an empty compartment on the train back to london for christmas break. your legs were crossed by the ankles as your eyes glided over the words carefully written down in the book you’d been reading for a few days now — not that you were actually processing what they said though, since your friends’ conversation took care of being a constant distraction.

“unbreakable vow?” ron leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “you’re sure that’s what snape said?”

“positive. why?” harry leaned against the window, his eyes focused on the red haired across from him. the latter looked down in thought, “well, it’s just you can’t break an unbreakable vow.”

a soft sigh, barely noticeable, escaped your lips as you dog eared the page you were on. you were fairly sure you wouldn’t be able to pick up any information if the pair continued talking.

“i’d worked that much out for myself funnily enough.” harry spoke causing you to let out a light chuckle. the pair turned to you at the sound and ron’s brows were raised as if he was waiting for you to say something. your head gave a small shake, “nothing… please, continue.” you smiled as you looked at them; wanting to hear their thoughts.

ron slowly turned his head back to harry, “it’s just that…” the rest of the sentence never came, as ron looked deep in thought. you kept your eyes on him for a moment longer before resting them on harry, “unbreakable vows are incredibly dangerous.”

harry, who was sat beside you, sat up a bit straighter at your words, “are they?”

“yeah, mate.” ron breathed out, “you don’t understand…” but before he could continue the presence of someone outside the compartment caught his attention, “oh, bloody hell.”

you followed ron’s line of sight and when you saw lavender brown behind the glass door you immediately closed your book, incredibly curious what’s to happen. her exhaling on the glass, along with the movement of her finger drawing an outrageously big heart on the condensed part of the door, caused you to press your lips together — having to try your utmost best not to laugh.

“no!” you whispered, turning your head to look at harry, who was busy distracting himself while lavender continued drawing an ‘r’ and ‘l’ in the middle of the heart. it made it even harder for you to suppress the laugh bubbling up in your throat when harry mindlessly pulled the armrest out of the train seat, only to push it back in not even a second later.

eventually you dared to look back at the door, just in time to catch lavender exhale one last time against the glass; clarifying the heart and message she’d drawn. you watched — your eyes still wide and lips still pressed together — as she breathed out an exasperated ‘i miss you’ before turning to leave.

the second she’d left you turned to look at the two boys sat across one another, and when harry uttered — deadly serious — ‘lovely’, you couldn’t help but let the laughs escape your lips, “oh my god.”

ron shook his head, “all she wants to do is snog me.” he leaned closer towards harry, “my lips are getting chapped.” his finger moved up to point at his lips, “look.”

while the red haired moved closer, harry tried to dodge his face, “i’ll take your word for it.”

“i don’t get how you two do it.” ron sighed as he sat back, but after a short second he crossed his arms, “now that i think about it,” he squinted his eyes as he observed the couple that sat across him. “i’ve never even seen you snog.”

“i mean, we don’t really do it in front of—“

however, before harry could finish his sentence you sat up straight and cut him off, “i still can’t believe you two are together, honestly.” your hands were curled around your book, which had been laying abandoned on your lap for the entire interaction. ron sat back, “is it really so hard to believe that i have a girlfriend?”

“no.” you shrugged, “she just doesn’t really seem like your type, now does she?”

“my type??” ron’s brows raised, “i don’t have a type.” he slumped down in his seat. you playfully raised your brows at his words, “alright, what do you like about her then?”

ron swallowed, resting his head against the backrest in thought. when you glanced at harry you could tell he was confused on why you were interrogating your friend by his slightly squinted eyes and furrowed brows. you shrugged, “what? i don’t know her that well, really. i’d just like to know.”

a harsh sigh from ron pulled your attention back to him. in the meantime he’d closed his eyes and after another long silence he looked back at you and harry, “i guess she’s quite nice?”

your mouth fell open at his words, “she’s quite nice?” you blinked before looking at harry who just shrugged his shoulders. a scoff fell from you lips as you put your attention back on the red haired, “ron, if you’d had genuine feelings for her, i’d imagine you would be able to come up with a lot more than just guessing she is quite nice?!”

he crossed his arms, “it’s pretty difficult actually, why don’t you ask harry what he likes about you, hm?”

you rolled your eyes once more before sighing, “sure.” after carefully placing your book beside you, you turned slightly in your seat so your body was facing your boyfriend, “harry, what do you like about me?”

the brunette glanced between you and his best friend, “what?!” he shook his head, “i’m not doing this, alright? this is your discussion.” his eyes landed on yours and when you raised your brows at him — waiting for an answer — he sighed, “fine.”

he sat up slightly straighter before speaking up again, “for starters, you’re incredibly kind. not only through words, but through actions, also. you’re always there for me, ready to help with … anything, really. not only after we started dating, but when we were just friends, too, and even when you barely knew who i was, in our third year.” when harry saw a soft smile starting to form on your lips he felt encouraged to continue.

“you’re funny, doesn’t really matter if you try to be, but you make me laugh. you’re also an amazing storyteller; the one about the four siblings in their fantasy world, that one’s great.” a soft chuckle fell from your lips at the memory of you telling harry the story from your childhood. “and i really like it when you play with my hair, helps me relax when—“

“bloody hell, you’re aggravatingly cute together, the two of you.” ron cut harry off before he could continue his list.

your eyes stayed on harry for a moment longer, the smile still evident when you eventually turned to look at ron, “proved my point, don’t you think?” but the red haired slightly shook his head and mumbled under his breath, ‘whatever.’

in the corner of your eye you noticed hermione walking up to the door to your compartment. however, when you turned around — ready for her to walk in — she stopped in front of the drawing lavender had made on the glass only a moment earlier.

your heart sank for her, knowing how much she liked ron, and when she immediately stalked off without even saying hello your smile dropped. you quickly glanced at your friends before standing up and opening the compartment door, “i’m going to talk to her. i’ll be back in a moment.” you spoke, slipping through the opening before closing the door behind you and following hermione.

“that was … weird.” ron muttered and after a moment of awkward silence harry turned to his best friend, “so what happens to you? what happens if you break an unbreakable vow?”

“you die.”

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

SOUNDTRACK // stardust, zayn

TAGLIST // @callsigncrushx @moonjellyfishie @pussyslayerhd @accio-mayachhiato @ezrafrss @iyskgd

[angellic4l]

thank you’s - s.r

in which; sunshine!bau!reader is demeaned by an officer on a case and season2!spencer sticks up for her.

content: fem!reader, reader described as having ‘girly’ flair, sexism, mention of blood/bloodstain, mainly fluff, protective spencer, and i think that’s it but lmk.

a/n: i just rawdog it and write on tumblr as a draft so i have 0 clue how many words there are. also, thank you all so much for the love on my first fic, i adore you all. these are my babies now and i hope you love them.

Warm sunlight warms the skin on your back while you’re crouched down at the latest crime scene, examining a bloodstain on the concrete floor. Despite it being November, it’s still considerably warm in Texas, a big contrast to Virginia weather for sure.

Despite official policies about dress code and such, you’re still a fun person, so you like to add your own girly flair to the professional attire you sport almost every single day. It doesn’t harm anybody, it doesn’t break any rules, and it’s cute.

However, pair the cute flair you add to your clothes with your enthusiastic, optimistic, ‘happy go lucky’ personality, and the fact that you’re a woman, and it causes people to make their own assumptions - typically sexist ones.

After doing bloodstain analysis on the red splatter that coats part of the parking lot’s floor, you go to stand up from your crouching position. Mid motion, you spot a small note on the floor, tucked under the wheel of a car. Crime scene analysis requires everything and anything to be processed, and the unsub has yet to make contact with authorities, so you make the decision that it’s worth looking at before motioning for Spencer to come over after seeing him somewhat idle.

He begins to make his way over from the other end of the parking lot as you stay crouching, waiting for him to come over because you don’t have gloves on. What you don’t see after you turn back around is an officer, an average sized male with blonde hair who appears to be slightly older than you, approaching you at the very same time.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’, workin’ for the FBI? You sure yer pretty little brain can handle allathat, darlin’?” A man’s voice; a thick, Texan drawl, coated with a somewhat flirty tone, yet at the very same time, it’s seeping with disdain - ambivalence.

Unfortunately, you’re used to that tone of voice and can recognise it all too well. It’s not going to be the first time you hear it, and it certainly won’t be the last, no matter how progressive times are or how you express yourself.

Standing up, spinning on your heels, ready to give the - officer? that’s poor - a rehearsed response to ensure your own safety, yet keep a boundary, you see Spencer stood behind the average sized, blonde haired man that you don’t recognise. He’s giving the officer one of his looks, his face saying everything, as usual, despite the officer not being able to see it.

Spencer’s fully aware his face is saying everything without it coming out of his lips, he’s completely baffled at how someone could say something so demeaning to anybody, much less you. You’re probably the sweetest person he’s ever met, always so supportive and enthusiastic. He feels protective of you. He doesn’t even realise he does until the words are out.

“She’s perfectly capable of doing her job, if not more so than other male agents, not that it concerns you whatsoever. And I’m perfectly capable of reporting a sexist comment to your supervisor.”

Spencer’s tone is defensive, no, protective, and you can feel heat rushing to your cheeks. It’s the bare minimum - sticking up for someone to a discriminatory comment - and you know that. It’s more so that Spencer hates confrontation, but he’s doing it, and it’s for you. Thank God for the Texas weather masking your fluster as warmth.

With the threat of his supervisor being involved, the officer offers a mumbled apology before walking away, almost as if his ‘tail’ is tucked between his legs, like a scolded puppy. A soft laugh elicits from your lips at the sight. Once the sexist officer has gone, Spencer’s eyes find you, his expression changing to one of concern.

“Hey, you okay? That was demeaning,” the brunette offers, his hand coming to rub the back of his neck, a habit he has, typically more often around you.

“‘M okay. Used to it, unfortunately. Thank you, though, Spence. That was sweet; I know how much you hate confrontation,” you say, giving him a soft smile as you do.

It’s Spencer’s turn to blush now, you calling his actions sweet and that soft smile - god, that smile - flushing his cheeks a light pink while his hand still rubs at the back of his neck.

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me. Anyway, you called me over here. What did you find?”

With his question, you’re quickly reminded of why you did call him over, before the sexist comment and mini confrontation that’d ensued with the officer’s presence, but there’s something you want to do first.

“I don’t need to thank you, but I want to,” you reassure him before stepping forward, moving closer to him, leaning up on your tiptoes, turning your head to face Spencer’s cheek, and slowly placing a chaste kiss to his already pink cheek.

Spencer’s eyes widen before they close, realising what you’re doing and wanting to savour the feeling of your lips on his skin. Unfortunately for him, the brief contact is gone just as quickly as it had started. He opens his eyes again and moves his right hand from the back of his neck to touch his cheek, realising what he did in front of you, and acting as if he was wiping away your lip gloss stain.

“Oh, uh.. thanks. Anyway, the, uhm, you called me over to see…?”

Silently, secretly, he wills the feeling of your lips on his skin to never leave his memory, not even when he’s old and grey, and maybe, just maybe, he wishes that you’ll be by his side when he is.

[chimerafeathers]

you know what i think Mirabelle deserves to get a little fucked up freaky in how she processes learning about Siffrin’s loops post-canon. for fun. as a treat

thinking about this line in particular and stretching out the implications like taffy

this is a more romanticized, cutesy facet of her interests but she’s still framing Siffrin’s situation through storytelling. so like. What If.

i mean. this woman loves horror and gore and monsters and horrible things happening to innocent people. IN FICTION. in fiction!!! obviously!!!! and it’s beyond terrible that something even remotely close to any of that happened to her real friend in real life!!

BUT.

maybe. maybe sometimes, if the conditions are right, she gets a little too wrapped up in her imagination about the bloody, awful poetry of it all. maybe Siffrin tells a joke that's a little too dark and gory for anyone else, borderline or full-on Concerning, but she latches onto it without thinking about the Implications and plays along with increasing gruesomeness because FINALLYYYYY someone will play with her in the Horror Space (like Isabeau does in the romance space!!) and then. OOPS. the implications!!!! and she has to recalibrate out of Fun With Fiction mode into Oh No, My Friend Underwent A Horrifying Ordeal mode.

but being able to joke about things, even the awful things, is...kind of comforting, to Siffrin. makes them feel less like they're being babied and pitied and more like what happened was something...normal, almost? something that doesn't have to feel like the end of the world all over again every time it's mentioned, at least. so he tries to reassure her, and Odile and Isabeau have to go “actually can you PLEASE not joke about dying horribly it’s freaking us out and also might not be the Best for you? mentally???”

maybe Mirabelle will get a little Too Into trying to weave meaning and symbolism into the scant details that Siffrin gradually reveals, like she’s trying to finish the orange poem all over again, or eagerly meddling with the romantic reunion of the two actual people in the House with undelivered bonding earrings, writing their story for them without their input.

it’s easier to justify the tragedy of it all when it has a purpose, isn’t it? finding the beauty in the darkness, the love powerful enough to end the world. romanticizing the horrors until her friend can talk about them without shutting down.

and she feels guilty about hearing something and immediately thinking “ohhhhhhh this is JUST like Blorbo From My Novels,” because she should treat Siffrin’s situation with the gravity and care he deserves!! they’re a real person, not a character who exists for entertainment, to represent the ~themes~ of some story.

but if she admits as much…maybe Siffrin is safe to admit that he had started seeing the rest of them as actors, endlessly reciting their lines. maybe that’s just how people process things sometimes, grasping for metaphors when unfiltered reality gets to be too much. maybe it’s okay to talk about that part of it all, too.

[melzula]

Can you please write jealous Zuko? It can be however you like😊

a/n: i love jealous zuko! however this ended up being more angsty than i intended😭 hope you enjoy!

summary: a party at the palace leads to a deep revelation for zuko

He was miserable.

The palace didn’t throw parties very often these days, but the recent conquering of another Earth colony was deemed a call for celebration, and so all of the noble families in the Capital City were invited to attend. A grand feast was held and praises were showered upon Ozai throughout the night. It was one of the rare times Zuko didn’t have to worry about his father’s wrath, and so he should have been enjoying himself.

But he couldn’t, not when he could see that across the way another boy was flirting with you right in front of him.

You were Zuko’s everything- his childhood best friend that he’d always held harbored feelings for. During his banishment he thought of you constantly, and upon his arrival he immediately asked you to be his girlfriend. You were sweet and friendly, easily approachable and always able to cheer him up despite his moodiness, you were perfect. And apparently this other boy could see this too.

You smile out of politeness and nod along to the boy’s rambling story about his fire bending skills and high IQ, not very interested in listening but too nice to brush him off. It infuriates Zuko to see someone else take advantage of your kindness, and he’s unable to just sit back and watch any longer.

A harsh hand lands upon the boy’s shoulder, startling both of you in the process. Zuko’s eyes are blazing with fury, his palm scorching the fabric of the boy’s robes and scaring the spirits out of him in the process.

“Can’t you take a hint? She doesn’t want to talk to you!” the Prince bellow angrily, prompting a few guests nearby to turn their heads curiously towards the commotion. A bit embarrassed at the sudden attention, you gently pull Zuko’s hand away and drag him out to the gardens before he can escalate the situation any further. The last thing you need is for him to cause a scene at his father’s party.

“What?” Zuko says defensively as you wordlessly walk through the palace hallways. “I was helping you!”

“You were acting jealous again,” you chide gently.

“No I wasn’t!” He argues defensively only to shrink under your pointed gaze. “…I was.”

“I love you, Zuko, but I don’t love how jealous you can get sometimes. I’m your girlfriend, don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do!” He interjects quickly, almost offended at the notion.

“Then what is it? Why do you act this way?”

Zuko is silent, his eyes casted sullenly to the floor as you patiently wait for his answer. You take his hands in your own and give them a reassuring squeeze to let him know you’re there for him, and the act seems to coax him out of his stupor.

“I’m afraid you’ll change your mind about being with me, and once the right guy comes along you’ll realize you’re better off without me,” he admits quietly, almost ashamed to voice the thought out loud.

“Zuko…” you utter sadly, heartbroken at the fact that he could even believe such a thing.

“Why do you want to be with a boy who’s been exiled from his own country before? Whose own father burned his face? Who’s so messed up in every way possible?”

Gently carefully cupping his face in your hands, you tilt his head upward to meet your sincere gaze. His eyes are glossy with tears he refuses to let fall, and your heart aches for the poor boy before you. You wish you could take away all of his hurt in agony, but you can’t, so you do your best to take away his insecurity instead.

“I wish you could yourself the way I see you,” you tell him lovingly. “You are more than enough for me, more than I could ever ask for. You’re strong, you’re brave, you’re smart. You’re you. I love you, Zuko. No one’s ever going to get into the way of that.”

He says nothing in response but simply yanks you into his arms for the tightest hug you’ve ever possibly received. You know he isn’t the best at words or emotions, but his embrace conveys that he is grateful for every word to come out of your mouth.

He knows he may be jealous at times, but he also knows that he doesn’t have to be anymore.

Because you’re not going anywhere.

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin

[fatal-thoughts]

Anon here requesting a part 2 to the recent Telemachus fic. Please 🙏

(Btw- I adore your writing style! Gonna binge your fics later ^^)

Aw, tysm! A lot of yall really want a part 2 so here you go, my loves.

A Lovely Exchange P 2

P1 here

Telemachus x Reader

Synopsis: Telemachus already fights off his mother’s suitors, but what if he manages to become one? To… one of the palace’s servants?

A/N: Ya'll are hilarious in the comments of part 1, dw I hear ya'll I hear y'all loud and clear. Also, don't be shy to send me asks and even suggestions, I don't mind^^

“You like her, don’t you, son?”

Wait… WHAT??

HOW DID SHE KNOW?

Was it that obvious? 

WAIT! I DIDN’T KNOW!—

Telemachus was breaking in a cold sweat, his fists shaking as he maintained his eye contact with the ground, not wanting to face his mother.

“I-I…”

‘This is fine, this is fine! Everything will be fine. Just—just lie, right? That seems easy enough…’

He takes a deep breath.

“I… do…”

Athena he has said this once and he shall say it again, please come to his aid.

Penelope’s eyes light up upon hearing that. 

Telemachus was holding his breath so much you’d think he was about to pass out. Thankfully, his mother spoke before he turned blue.

“Good, I always knew you had the eyes for her. Honestly, son, I was just waiting for you to tell me! I always wondered why you’d often avoid Y/n, she is always so sweet and kind—mostly the reason why I favour her so much. Then I realised that's why you were avoiding her. You liked her! How adorable.”

Telemachus took a few good seconds (or more) to process his mother’s words.

Seriously? She KNEW?

And she didn’t SAY ANYTHING?

Well shit, he didn’t know he was that obvious. She could’ve spared him the embarrassment on that one but alright.

“Mom, you knew? This entire time? You KNEW?”

Telemachus asked, standing up and going through a crisis right in front of his mother. Penelope nodded with a sweet smile on her blissful face.

“Why did you not say anything?”

“I wanted to see for myself of course. And the way you spoke to Y/n earlier just proved it.”

Fuuuck he was so AWKWARD WHEN HE SPOKE TO Y/N.

Athena can turn back time, right? She's a goddess so she’s definitely capable of that right? Or maybe he can make a deal with another god just so that Y/n can forget that Telemachus ever existed.

God, he wanted to pass out so badly!!

“It’s alright son, Y/n is more than suitable to be your partner! Speaking of which, look at how beautiful the roses have blossomed this day. You sure chose a lovely girl to court, do you think this is her favourite flower? Or Is it daisies? ”

Penelope sounded so blissfully unaware as she put her hands together, excited with the idea of Telemachus and Y/n together.

“Mom! Please! I’m not even able to speak to her in complete sentences yet! Let alone be her partner right now! Y/n is…”

“Yes, my prince?”

A serene voice called out.

Telemachus froze like ice. 

His mother on the other hand immediately got up on her feet as she approached the voice.

“Y/n! Just in time, my dear. We were just talking about you.”

…Shit.

Having heard your name be called out from a distance, you decided to see where all the commotion was coming from. Soon enough, you found yourself being approached by the Queen and a very… conflicted looking Telemachus.

Did he tell his mother about what happened earlier? Is he still nervous? Why did he look so… red?

Your thoughts were put on hold as you saw Queen Penelope in front of you.

“Did you need anything, my Queen?”

You asked her, her gaze mischievously shifting from you to Telemachus for a split second.

“My son and I were just speaking of your beautiful work in the garden, my dear. You’ve outdone yourself Y/n.”

Telemachus nodded in agreement, an offputting smile on his lips and a pink hue returning to his cheeks and migrating into his ears, which he tried to hide under his hair. 

It was no surprise the flowers you grew were quite a wonderful bunch. Your father used to be the palace gardener and in his spare time, he’d teach you all of his tricks on how to take care of flowers of all kinds. And since his retirement, you unsurprisingly took over.

Hearing the Queen’s praise warmed your heart.

“In fact, you have done so well that Telemachus would love to thank you with a quaint little dinner with him! A lovely exchange isn’t it?”

A dinner? With the prince? How sweet of him, perhaps he does like you a little bit. It doesn’t explain why he’s looking at Queen Penelope in disbelief like she just betrayed him.

Because she did.

He just said that he still couldn’t talk to her in coherent sentences.

And she sets him up with her, on a date, alone, just the two of them.

This is it, he couldn’t believe it.

His mother, his own mother, wants to kill him.

There was no other explanation as to why she would EVER suggest this.

Except if she wanted to actually kill him.

“Telemachus!”

Penelope called out to him, snapping him out of his daze. He fixes from looking at her back to you, with a genuine little smile at him.

“It’s settled then, yes? You will mar—I mean, dine with Y/n tonight correct?”

The boy managed to let out an awkward and voice-cracked “Yes’.

Penelope couldn’t hide her smile at the two as she put her hands on your shoulders.

“Wonderful, You’d be a delightful daughter-in-law!”

You quickly turn your head towards her, daughter-in-law. Is she ensuing…

Meanwhile, Telemachus was for sure about to give in on his own knees.

“I mean—oh well, we shall prepare for your upcoming date now. Come along Telemachus! We have much to discuss! As for you, Y/n, I shall have a tailor for your clothes shortly. We have a special dinner to prepare!”

Penelope moves with a quick pace, dragging Telemachus by his arm which was soon to break from her force.

“AH! Mom! I almost tripped!”

“One must endure slight pain when they are in love, my son.”

“I could’ve gone limp!”

“Same thing, Telemachus. Come along now! We have much to discuss.”

It was a bit confusing, but nonetheless, the exchange brought a sweet smile to your face.

Perhaps Telemachus is a sweetheart.

Sorry if it was a bit rushed, I wanted to work on other one-shots for a bit.

(Aka I'm writing a dark romance Antinous x Reader one-shot since that man has been in my head for so long now and I need to feed my delusions)

Don't expect a part 3 to this btw, I have other fics to write.

(Like the Antinous one, I swear please just let me get this one-shot out PLEASE)

Anyway, hope you liked this one.

-Fatal-thoughts

[district4loading]

Blonde

Twice Sana x Male Reader

6K Words

Content Warning: angst, mentions of cheating, hate sex, possessive sana, breeding kink

Minors DNI

A/N: I've been wanting to write something about THIS^ Sana for a while now but I didn't really know where I wanted to go with the plot. That is until anon requested an interesting kinda angsty and toxic dynamic between reader and Sana.

From anon - "hear me out POSSESSIVE POWER BOTTOM SANA WITH A BREEDING KINK BUT WONT LET IT SHOW BECAUSE SHE’S A FUCKING BRAT AND YOU HATE HER BUT NOT HER BODY"

apologies to anon because I went a tad bit off script..

-

She's fucking blonde.

-

You don't know how you could ever allow Minatozaki Sana to ruin your life.

She's only five foot four and just a little over a hundred pounds but the heavy weight of her presence always seems to anchor you and keep you in her grip. You're broken up, you've been broken up for three months now. You made the decision to go no contact and completely cut her out of your life. It was the betrayal, the lying, the manipulating that acted as the final nail in the coffin, killing and burying any real love you had left for her. Now it's all bitter hatred.

It's taken you a while to get where you are. From thinking about her every day to only thinking of her maybe once a week. From not being able to listen to the songs you used to listen to together to merely flinching when they played on the radio. You weren't going to let memories of her turn the once normal parts of your life sour.

That's what you think right up until your doorbell rings.

You quirk your eyebrow and look up from your phone, wondering who could be at your door at five in the afternoon on a Wednesday. Package? No. Doordash? I wish. A friend? Maybe. You begin thinking of the possibilities as you walk the short distance from your computer to your front door. First you look through the peephole but you're only able to see your neighbors door. "Did I order something?" You mutter to yourself, checking your phone for a moment to see if you missed any emails.

Then you finally unlock your door and open it when you see that there was no email. You look down then you poke your head out, looking left then.. right. Your lips part and your eyebrows furrow as you try to process what the hell you're seeing in front of you right now. Or rather who. It takes you a minute to recognize that it's Sana and that's because something about her is different.

She's fucking blonde.

You're at a complete loss for words because you haven't seen or talked to her in months and now she's in front of you, staring into your soul with a fucking smirk on her face. She notices your gaze, full of confused awe and she thinks it's a good thing. "You like it? I did it for you" Her bottom lip juts out as she looks into your eyes.

"What..What are you doing here?" You begin to stammer as you ignored her question, having to remind yourself to breathe. She's just a girl.

"Are you saying I need a reason to visit my boyfriend?" She crosses her arms and you almost scoff, having half a mind to shut the door in her face. But you don't.

Instead, you make a face and shake your head "We're not together anymore Sana" She steps forwards and touches your hand and you almost immediately recoil and step back into your apartment "Don't touch me, I don't know where you've been." Sure it's a bit immature of you to say but after what she did to you, even feeling her hands on your body made you hostile. You want her nowhere near you.

"Seriously? It's been three months Y/n, get over it." She begins to get upset as if she had any right to. "I made one mistake and now you want to punish me for it forever! Listen he came on to me and-"

"You let him" You finish her sentence off coldly, your jaw clenching as the pain comes flooding back. That distinct ache in your chest, the turning in your stomach, she brought it all back and all she had to do was show up at your door. Your words stop her from talking and she gets this annoyed look on her face but before she can say anything else you actually gain a bit of strength and move to shut the door in her face. Sana puts her foot in the door before you do and stops you from closing it. "Listen, Sana I have a lot going on right now and the last thing I want to do right now is talk to you, just go"

You can't bring yourself to make eye contact and Sana sees it, she sees right through you. She's smart like that, she knows you like that. So she pushes herself through the door to enter your apartment because you'll let her. "Oh please, what else would you have going on besides jerking off?" She says it in that arrogant, sarcastic tone of hers. You open your mouth to protest as she walks in but then you close it and instead you exhale a frustrated huff.

"Why's that the first thing that comes to your mind?" You ask, moving to shut the door as you figured you could maybe say some hurtful things to her—get in her head and make her hurt like she made you. So you stand in the middle of your living room, keeping a good distance as you waited for her response.

"Well, you're a man and you haven't fucked in three months. You must be so pent up, baby" She uses that sweet, sultry tone to finish off her sentence, purposely pouting with those perfect lips right when you manage to take a glance at her face.

Fuck

If there was one thing about Sana? She was fucking sexy. The sexiest girl you've been with in your entire life. Now she has bleach blonde hair and you hate to admit it, as a matter of fact you wouldn't ever admit it, but she looked even hotter. It was such a shame, such a waste that her personality was awful. That she couldn't be trusted.

A little after you ended things you wondered what went wrong and you even tried to make sense of why she would do such a thing because you thought everything was going well. The intimacy was there, you saw each other all the time, there was never a day that went by where you didn't tell her you loved her and more importantly, the sex was hot.

You were ultimately perplexed until you had a good friend sit you down, slap you in the face and then explain to you that cheaters will cheat no matter what and that's probably when the hatred started.

If only he could see you now

A chuckle escapes your lips as you take a few steps forwards, tucking your hands in your pockets "What makes you think I haven't fucked in three months?" You give her a look, one thats calm and collected as if you had no care in the world, as if your heart wasn't beating out of your chest right now and this time, you get yourself to look at her. You watch as her cocky relaxed demeanor turned damn near rigid upon registering what you just said.

"But you haven't" Sana says the words in this matter-of-fact tone like she's expecting you to nod your head and confirm, but you don't. You almost laugh out loud, watching a vein nearly pop out of her neck at the mere thought of you with someone else.

Ironic isn't it?

You stay silent to build the tension, feeling a small boost in your confidence now that hers was noticeably shrinking. Now you can tell that her minds working and that's when you know you've struck a nerve. You try not to smile cause she's staring, watching every one of your moves like a hawk as you take a few steps closer to where she's sitting, right up until you're facing her. You manage to ignore her death stare and you only shrug "And if I have?"

That's when you actually get to appreciate her eyes. They're blue--or at least the color of her contacts are--and she's just staring. "Why the fuck are you playing with me?" She asks blatantly, the curse word leaving her mouth so aggressively, so seriously. Then you begin to lose your cool a bit, having a sort of flashback when you first found out about everything and that distinct feeling of betrayal came back.

The fucking entitlement was getting to you.

"You can't seriously be mad right now" You scoff bitterly and you cross your arms.

Sana stands up and you step back "Who?" Is the only word she utters and she's seething, visibly getting angrier the longer you make her wait.

"Sana, I want you out of my apartment. Now, or else I'm calling the cops" That's all you say before you turn around and walk off in the direction of your room, hoping she'd find her own way out.

You think that'll do it, you think that acting like you don't care and alluding to the possibility that you've fucked someone else would've did it for her.

You're wrong, because instead of leaving like you expect her to, Sana follows behind you closely "You mother-fucker, answer my question" You feel her small fingers wrapping around your arm and you wince when her nails nearly pierce the flesh.

You turn around to face her, yanking your arm out of her grip roughly. Then the annoyance on your face goes away and you freeze. Everything goes away because she's so close and her hand has found it's way on your arm again. She's mad at you, that's very obvious but she looks incredible and you notice how soft her hand is. "Who did you fuck? Tell me" She asks it again, more specifically this time.

"Sana-" You try to step back and the moment you do, your back hits the wall--because of course it does--and Sana doesn't miss her chance to corner you.

"Who?"

At this point you're looking into her eyes and you hate how pretty they are—how pretty she is. Then there's that familiar feeling in your belly. It's back, she still gives you butterflies. "I.." You start, and your words fall short almost immediately and just like that the power dynamic has shifted. All she had to do was get close. "No one" You relax your body, not noticing how tense you were until your shoulders dropped.

It's the truth, you haven't been able to do anything with anyone else since the breakup. It wasn't like you couldn't get laid, you had options but the attraction just wasn't there. Not for any other girl.

Her hand loosens on your arm, but she still keeps it there and her eyes sort of soften. "You're such an asshole, fuck" She hits your arm then huffs like she'd been holding a breath forever, stepping back from you to run her hand through her blonde locks.

"Oh really? Now imagine if I actually did fuck someone else? It would've felt really shitty wouldn't it?" You ask, that bitterness still so prominent in your tone. You couldn't help it, the irony of the situation is just too perfect.

Sana just glares at you and crosses her arms. For some reason you still can't bring yourself to move. You're still stuck there. "Will you ever be able to forgive me for that?" She asks and her demeanor stays the same. But you look into her eyes and you can see that she's genuinely asking like she wants you to forgive her, like she recognizes the pain she's put you through and she wants to fix it.

I don't know

"Sana...you fucking cheated on me, I've only been good to you... I just can't... why would you do that to me? How could you do that to me?" You ask the question that's been in the back of your mind for the longest time.

She comes closer and you allow it. You allow her to take your hand in hers as you stare into her eyes, waiting for an explanation, a reason. You need to know if it was your fault, if you could've changed anything, if you could've done something. "I was dumb and I wasn't thinking, baby" Her hand roams, reaching your face and she cups your cheek in her hand.

Shamelessly, you lean into it and it feels so warm, so soft. You hate it, you fucking hate her for doing this to you. The way she calls you baby makes those butterflies come back and you don't know how to feel. "Sana" You sigh and before you're able to say any words she's dropping to her knees in front of you. "What are you..." You start, but the words get caught in your throat when you realize what she's trying to do.

"I should show you how sorry I am" Her fingers hook over the waistband of your sweatpants and you let it happen.

Sana pulls them down, then your boxers go with it and you're soft. "I know you've missed me" She looks up at you as she takes your shaft into her hand. You exhale and look into her eyes but you don't respond to her. It's like you're outside of your own body, watching yourself in third person and you just can't bring yourself to do anything but watch.

Her soft hands are stroking you and it doesn't take long for you to get hard--less than a minute actually. "Sana" you whisper as she holds her fist at your base, then she opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out. When the warm, wet muscle comes into contact with your tip the pleasure overcomes you. "Fuck" your eyes are hooded and your mind's going blank.

You can't think of anything else, not even what she's done to you, nothing but her tongue lapping at your precum. She swirls it around then it's eventually in her mouth and her lips are so soft, pressed up against your shaft. You close your eyes and allow yourself to feel every filthy suck, slurp and lick. The sounds begin to echo in your hallway as everything gets sloppier.

Sana begins twisting her hand around the shaft jerking you at the base while she handles your sensitive head with her mouth. It feels amazing. She wasn't wrong, you missed this so fucking much. Off of pure instinct your hand is in Sana's hair and you're threading your fingers through the silky blonde strands. "That feels so fucking.. good" You bite your lip then take a sharp breath through your nose.

There's an eager humming sound that Sana makes but it's muffled as she continues to stuff you deeper into her mouth. She's going faster now, bobbing her head like she's hungry for you, like she's missed this too.

She moves her hand just so she can have your entire shaft inside and it slides down her throat so easily, no resistance as her lips touch your base. Sana holds it there and her eyes begin to water as she looks at you through her eyelashes then she fucking swallows. Your vision goes blurry for a moment and a guttural moan forces it's way out from your throat.

Then Sana drags back and it slips out of her mouth. She takes a breather, wrapping two hands around your shaft one after the other and she begins to stroke up and down. "I want you to fuck my mouth with this big, thick cock" She leans forward and flicks her tongue on the tip, catching more precum. she takes one hand and massages your balls throughly "Use me, and don't you dare fucking stop until you dump this load down my throat." She squeezes your balls for emphasis.

Your jaw almost drops "Sana" then she prepares herself. She opens wide and tilts her head back slightly. So inviting. Then she allows you to take your cock into your hand and out of hers. You guide the tip into her mouth and push your hips forwards using both of your hands to hold her head in place. It's probably not the best thing to do but you can't control yourself, not when she looks like this. Especially because she's asking for it, offering you her mouth to show you just how sorry she is.

You have to admit, it's one hell of an apology.

"Your mouth is fucking... insane" You grunt as the tight warmth of her throat squeezes your cock. She gags and you let it stay there for a bit, she's struggling now that you're in control but she won't tap out. Not like this. It takes a moment until she's breathing through her nose smoothly and that's when you begin to move your hips.

You pull out, then right back in, almost losing it at the wet sound it makes. You lick your lips then you actually start fucking her mouth, using it just like she told you to.

It feels so incredible that you don't miss a thing. Especially her occasional gag when you accidentally lodge yourself too deep. The sight is one for the books too, she keeps her big eyes open as you use her. What Sana can't say, her eyes will. They're so inviting, telling you to keep going, keep using, keep fucking—everything.

It's so subtle that you barely notice it, but Sana begins to undo the button on her jeans. Then she pulls the zipper down and she circles her clit slowly. She moans softly, eyes squinting as she touches herself while you use her throat. You expected it sooner or later because it's what she usually did when she sucked you off.

"Ah" You moan, feeling the heat build up in the pit of your belly "You have no clue... how ready I am to dump this fucking load in your throat. She only looks at you because she can't even nod her head, your hold is too tight. She moans a little and you try to control your breathing. It's getting erratic and every muscle in your body is burning up. "Yeah, just keep letting me use this... fuck i'm cumming" You give her a warning right before it happens.

You hold her head extra firm as you slide your member all the way in, her nose touching your base as your cock pulses and throbs. You're completely filling her mouth with it, painting the inside white with your hot seed while you grunt through your teeth. The feeling is only extraordinary and pleasureful and when you finally come down, you slide your cock out.

She loses her balance, leaning over as she gasps and chokes and holds herself up with her hand. You allow her to take a second to breath and when she's okay, you watch as she slides the other hand out of her pants and sucks on her fingers. Then Sana gets up on her two feet and pushes you against the wall again, she kisses you harshly then uses her hand to stoke your hard cock "Sir" She uses the term that never fails to drive you crazy, it's the implied authority that gets you "I want you to take this cock and fucking use me until you're done. It's my apology to you"

If you weren't completely blinded by lust, you'd push her off of you and tell her to leave because what she did is unforgivable and she can't just fuck for forgiveness. But her gaze is way to powerful and you're not strong enough to push her away. So instead you nearly growl and grab her wrist to pull her into your bedroom. You fling her forwards and she catches herself on the bed, climbing onto it as you pull your shirt off.

You walk towards the bed and yank her jeans off, then her panties and you motion for her to take her top off as you get into the bed and in between her legs. She's looking at you like she fucking needs it, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth in the sexiest way. As you go to line yourself up, you stop when you remember something. You may have lost your mind but you still have enough sense to reach into your nightstand and grab a condom.

"What's that for?" She gives you a look as she watches you tear the package open with your teeth. You don't answer her, you just continue on to put it on. Once it is, you prod her entrance but Sana pushes on your lower abdomen to stop you. "Y/n" The look in her eye is serious, like it's unfathomable that you're trying to use protection right now.

"Sana"

"Take it off, I don't have anything" She blinks "and you should know that" You can tell she wants to hit you right now, but she refrains from doing so.

"It's not cause of that, I just don't want to make any mistakes" You shrug when you know that there's no true reason other than to punish her. "Now it's either you move your hand or you get the fuck out and you never see me again."

Just like you expect, she moves her hand. "but I can't - it'll be harder for me to.. you know"

"You told me to use you and that's what i'm going to do. I don't give a fuck if you cum or not"

The words sound so coarse leaving your lips and it causes Sana to shut her mouth. Her lips quiver a bit and her eyes start to well up but she holds her glare. You never liked being mean to Sana and quite frankly if you're being real with yourself it's a blatant lie. No matter what you want to have her cumming, creaming and squirting on your cock until she can no longer think.

But you won't let her know that

You slide in and the first thing you feel is this unfamiliar pressure that squeezes around you tightly. It's something you're definitely not used to but you'd bare with it because you have to. Then maybe you'll think about it.

Sana exhales a pleasureful sigh before grabbing you by your arms to pull you in and you lean over her and begin to move your hips. She's so wet and warm, so slippery that you can just glide your cock in and out of her cunt without any resistance. Almost perfect. 

There's also this noise that you can hear, it's the obscene sound of her slick coating the latex each time you bottom out in her weeping pussy. You can feel it just enough that it has you biting your lip to stifle your own noises.

She's moaning heavily under you, although she said it'll be harder for her cum you know that she's still feeling the wide stretch that your thick cock faces her with. She's got her eyes closed and her hands clutching onto your arms as she wishes she could feel you bare with each vein scraping against her insides. It's something she's missed, but still something she'd have to earn back.

"Fuck - your cock.. it's so fucking -" A long whine follows and it's like she's completely forgotten whatever she was going to say in an attempt to tell you how good you're fucking her. She clenches and you feel it, almost shuddering when you do. Sana pulls your body down, slowing your movements as she gets her lips on your neck.

She sucks hard and you know she's leaving marks where she shouldn't be, you shouldn't let her but her lips feel too perfect on your body. It's all fucked up and you hate the fact that she's leaving deep red or purple marks on your skin. It tells you many things, one of them being that she still thinks you're hers and that you'll be hers forever. 

The thing is, she might be right to think that way because you don't move or flinch. You can't tell if you hate her or love her. "Sana" You murmur, feeling her cunt begin to squeeze you wildly, like it's trying to suck you in deeper. She's stopped the assault on your neck by now and your mouth is right by her ear so she can hear every grunt and moan you let slip. "This pussy feels so fucking perfect wrapping around me" You kiss her cheek and let your jaw hang open, your teeth scrape against the soft skin and you get a taste of the sweat that's built up on her cheek"

"T-The best you've ever had... right?"

You almost lose yourself and say 'yes' but you stop right before. She gets off on that, she always has. So you keep quiet and you quicken your pace. The moment she begins to react to the change in speed is absolutely priceless. Her high pitched moan, her mouth hanging open, the look of pure devastation in her eyes, everything. "Shit - please, please, please"

You hum and she wraps her legs around your waist, ankles pressing into you lower back. "Aw look at you. You're getting so close, Sana" You say it in a smug tone, hot against her ear. "What happened to having a hard time cumming?" 

"I'm - I'm - I'm - I - Fuck" She sputters "Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop" A crackled whisper escapes her lips and you have to bite back a smirk. Does she seriously think she has any power right now? Is what you ask yourself before doing something so villainous, you think she might actually cry or curse you out.

You slip your cock out of her wet heat and the guttural sob that escapes her throat is nothing short of perfection. The raw emotional grief in her voice makes you feel all too powerful and it might make you even more fucked up than she is. "Fuck you!" Her legs loosen around your waist and she kicks her legs at you and you stop her by grabbing her legs, laughing a bit in response. "I fucking hate you" She huffs.

With a smirk on your face, you grab her by the hips and in a swift motion you flip her over. You straddle the backs of her thighs, remembering just how much she loved to be pinned and fucked like this. With her face buried in the sheets and her body being forced through the bed. So you slide your cock past her warm ass cheeks and back into that sopping cunt. "Fuck" She drags out as you push yourself to the hilt, knowing that this angle never failed to fuck her up. "You better fuck me hard, fuck me and make me fucking cum on your cock. I fucking need it"

"Not even a please?" You snicker while you prepare to actually wreck her. Despite her crude language you can tell she's so fucking horny and needy for you. Ready to cum all over your fucking cock and be used until you release your load anywhere you want. 

Definitely not inside

"Fuck y-" She can't even curse you right because you've decided to shut her up by completely bottoming out in her cunt. What cuts her insult short is nearly a scream that could probably be heard by everyone on your floor.

You lean over and plant your fists in the mattress for better leverage. It allows you to plow into the soft cushion of her ass so easy, your cock angled perfectly to jab into that spot that can turn her dumb in no time. Her moans go into that higher pitch and you watch as her hands search recklessly for something to grab. The sheets do just the right job.

"Sana..." You grunt "This cunt is fucking creaming for me" You look down, just to see how the condoms been completely painted white with her sticky substance. 

Her walls start to convulse and clench erratically and she's right there, just so close to letting herself go. You keep your pace, deciding that you'll be nice and let her cum because this'll be a day she'll remember for years no matter where she ends up, or rather who she'll end up with. 

Cause it can't be you, right?

You don't think about it too much, you're focused on the mindless murmuring that you can't even begin to make out because she's doing it with her face pressed into the bed. Her back arches and her ass raises into your thrusts and that's when you know it's happening. "Already sweetheart? we've just switched positions" You snicker and she doesn't even have the brain power to curse at you because she's right fucking there.

Sana gasps and her upper body presses deeper into the mattress while her ass just chases your cock, like she needs it deep forever. "Cumming - I'm fucking - God" She groans and shudders through the remainder of the orgasm. Her entire body is feeling the waves, the shocks, everything as she cums and that's how you just know it was good.

She stops and her body lays flat on the bed again so you begin to move your hips. "Now it's my turn" You grunt as the heat builds up in the pit of your stomach "Where do you want it Sana?" There's nothing she says, she just moans weakly into the sheets "Want my load on your back?" No response "Want it in your mouth?" Nothing "Want it all over that pretty face of yours?" You continue and it's almost as if she doesn't really care where you cum. 

Or thats what you think until "Or... do you want me to pull this condom off and fuck my cum deep into this raw cunt" She clenches tight, and you almost lose it right then and there.

"Where... ever - fuck - you want" She does her best to turn her head and look up at you, those eyes telling you that she wants to be bred and claimed by you. But she doesn't say it, it's like she can't bring herself to. Or she just won't. 

Either way, you're not giving her what she wants.

It takes you a few more strokes and just a bit of concentration because of the condom but you're just about ready to burst. You think about it for a moment, getting careless and fucking a baby into her. Maybe you'll raise it together, maybe it'll mend your broken relationship. You seriously think about it, knowing that she probably isn't on any birth control and you could actually breed her, right here, right now. This pretty thing thats under you, writhing and moaning would be tied to you forever if you had a kid together.

"Fuck" You gasp as you pull out with swiftness, peeling the condom off before struggling to get to where her face is. Sana opens her mouth weakly and you get your cock into your fist the moment it all happens. You're cumming, almost keeling over when the ectasy hits you like a brick. You look down and it's absolutely covering her, some getting in her mouth. You make sure to pull the rest of it out, smearing the last bit of white on Sana's face.

She swallows what she caught in her mouth and gives you a smile "I hope you take it into consideration, what with my apology and all"

"Take what into consideration"

"Taking me back"

Yeah right, Hell no

-

Maybe you aren't to be taken serious, maybe no one should ever take you serious because you obviously can't even take yourself serious. It's only been a month since that day with Sana. How the fuck does she keep ending up in your bed, every. fucking. night. 

She's like a fucking disease, you can't get rid of her.

You tell her you hate her, she giggles and says she hates you more. You tell her to get out, she stays and you end up fucking. You tell her you don't love her, she kisses you. It's like she knows you're full of shit, like she knows you. 

Each day she shows up at your door she proves that theory right. 

It's no surprise that you're in love with her, you've come to terms with that recently. But somehow, this new look of hers has really been wrecking you. It's the way she rocks the bleach blonde hair with such confidence. Like she knows whenever she walks into a room, all eyes are on her and they don't stop staring until she isn't present anymore. 

She loves the attention and it kills you. You first witnessed it when she convinced you to take her out a week ago. The waiter couldn't keep his eyes off of her and it didn't help that she wore a dress that had her tits practically spilling out. Instead of telling her to cover up, you ended up punching the guy right in his face.

Then you took Sana home and fucked her on your couch cause you were too impatient to make it to the bed. You needed her to know she was yours in that immediate moment.

It wasn't always like that before. When you could actually trust her you couldn't give a fuck about what she wore or how she wore it, cause you knew that nobody else could have her.

Now that that's not so clear anymore, you need to make her aware of it every time.

It's maybe one in the morning and you're fucking her again. You've got her bent over, on her hands and knees in your hallway. Again, you couldn't make it to the bedroom because when you got here you pushed her against the wall and began kissing her. Then you had her pinned as you fucked her into the wall and somehow you both sunk to the floor.

"You've been such a good fucking girl for me lately" You mutter as you bring her to the brink of her next orgasm "Keeping yourself all nice and untouched for me"

"All for you sir.. I'm yours I'm fucking.. yours" There's a shudder in her voice and in no time "I'm gonna fucking - fuck!" She warns, her needy body meeting each one of your thrusts. It's like you've got her addicted to you and she can't help but need your cock deeper inside.

A harsh slap lands on her ass and she yelps "Do it Sana, cum for me" You grunt and it takes a moment for her to get through this one because it hits her like an 18-wheeler. The way she freezes like a deer in headlights then falls apart like she's having a seizure. She's cumming so hard that you think of asking her if she's alright. But she's more than alright, the way she fucks her cunt on your cock tells you that much.

You're not wearing a condom and you know it's stupid and reckless but you went through all of them and when you reached for one, there weren't any left. Sana looked all pouty, telling you that you could always just pull out while also reminding you that she's been good and that she's just so fucking horny and needy for you that nothing else could satisfy her that wasn't your cock going so deep down her cunt that you hit her cervix. Maybe not literally, but you catch the drift.

Anyways the idea of pulling out starts to seem more and more impossible as you allow yourself to enjoy the feel of her velvety walls. The way they squeezed onto you all slick and wet and warm. It felt almost too good. You have to slow down, cause if you keep going at this rate you might... 

That's not good

"Gonna cum soon" You announce and you don't even know where. There's only one thought in your mind. Fill her, fill her, fill her. It tells you and your entire body begins to tremble. "Sana, be a good girl and tell me what you want" You hunch your body over hers because if you're going to do this, you need to hear it from her. She presses chest into the floor, now she's face down ass up. She doesn't say anything and you're only getting closer so you fist a handful of those blonde locks. She moans loudly but that's not enough "Say it Sana, or else you're not getting fucked for a month"

You know that'll be just as much torture for you as it is for her but you're hoping to God that of all things she knows about you, she doesn't pick up on that. "Fuck okay! I want you to fucking breed me... need your cum deep in my fucking cunt" She finally breaks and just like that your cock begins pulsing. You loosen your grip on her hair as you use her cunt and fuck your load deeper.

She clenches like she's trying to milk you for absolutely everything you've got "Thank you" She whispers.

-

"So.. you came in me"

"Yep"

"And all of a sudden you actually want us to try again? No bullshit"

You nod your head, trying to make sense of it all in your own head. You don't know why exactly you're taking her back, nor do you know why you're climbing into bed with her. "All I know is that... despite what you did to me, I still love you. I love fucking you, I love cuddling you and I love waking up next to you" You sigh cause you know it's pathetic and she doesn't deserve it but the way she holds you and runs her fingers through her hair has those butterflies coming back.

Maybe you do know how you allowed Minatozaki Sana to ruin your life

[stylesispunk]

Blind faith | part iii

Priest!Joel Miller x night club dancer! Reader

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

summary: the aftermath of Joel finding you are a stripper and you reveal your truth to some extent. A day trip to the beach and how Joel realizes something.

wc: 9,5k

warnings: age gap (Joel's in his late 40s and reader late 20s), forbidden love, angst, mentions of death, mentions of injuries, sexism, so much tension between joel and reader, they falling harder, fluff.

a/n: Hello loves! Here's chapter 3. I was kinda excited for this one but I'm kinda more excited for the following one. I hope you like this and how the story is developing. I'm really loving writing it. Please share your thoughts, and please take note that reader still have secrets to share. Please, share your thoughts with me I LOVE READING THEM. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

You were in despair the moment you left the stage. Joel’s stare still stung on your skin, burning everywhere as if you were ashamed to have been trapped after the lies you had made up. You warn, pushing Carmen with no intention behind.

“Hey, hey, Estrellita, where are you going like this” She asked, placing her hands on your shoulders that seemed to ease its fire.

“I need to-I need—to I need to…Joel, uhm, the priest, she was here and he saw me.”

“Who? What the hell was he doing here?” she asked, surprised at the information.

“Someone must have told him about me.” You replied, the thought of him changing his mind towards you hurt more than any wound you could have.

“Okay, breathe.” She nodded her head, trying to erase your anxiety, “You weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“I’m—”

“Why do you care so much about what he thinks?” she questioned.

“Because he has been good to me. I don’t want him thinking I was playing with him” you replied, without being able to ease your heart stammering against your ribs.”

Carmen’s gaze softened, but there was something knowing behind her eyes. “And what if he does?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

You swallowed hard, the thought twisting something deep inside you. “Then I—” you hesitated, feeling the burn of unshed tears behind your eyes. “Then I don’t know.”

Carmen sighed, her hands squeezing your shoulders. “Estrellita… men like him, they don’t come here. But you have to ask yourself something—was he here because he wanted to judge you, or because he wanted to understand?”

You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know. But I saw his face, Carmen. He looked—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head.

“Hurt?” she guessed.

You flinched, looking away.

Carmen let out a soft laugh, not unkind. “That man is already gone for you,” she murmured.

You didn’t want to hear that. You couldn’t.

“I need to go,” you said instead, stepping away from her grasp.

“Go where?”

“I—”

“Rest.” She said, “Let him to process this and then you can go and talk to him tomorrow, okay?”

You hesitated, but ended up nodding.

“Okay.”

Three days had passed and there was no sight of him. At least no in the way you wanted it. You tried looking out for him at the church even, to his house, but everything seemed to be in vain.

Three days. Three days of trying to catch his eye, only for him to look away. Three days of waiting outside the church, only for him to slip out the back. Three days of silence where there used to be warmth.

And it was driving you mad.

Joel had never been like this with you. He had never shut you out like this before. Not when you first met, not when people whispered about you, not even when he wrapped his arms around your waist during the night you feel asleep together on his couch. But now? Now, he was slipping through your fingers water in your hands.

You found yourself outside the church again, fingers curling into fists at your sides, fidgeting your jeans as you took a steadying breath. The doors were open, the flickering glow of candlelight casting long shadows inside.

He was there. In front of the altar, on his knees, praying.

You knew it before you even stepped inside, and when you saw him, your breath caught.

He must’ve heard your footsteps because he tensed. But he didn’t turn around.

“Are you going to pretend I’m not here?” you asked, voice steady despite the storm inside you.

He exhaled, but still, he wouldn’t look at you.

“I’m not pretending,” he said, voice rough.

You scoffed. “Really? Then what do you call this?”

Silence.

You stepped closer. “Joel.”

He finally turned, and the look in his eyes nearly knocked the air from your lungs.

Regret. Want. Something deeper, something you didn’t want to name.

“Call me father, not Joel” he said, shaking his head. “Not anymore.”

The words cut through you like a blade. Not Joel.

Not anymore.

You blinked, your throat tightening as you searched his face, waiting, hoping for some sign that he didn’t mean it. That this was just another wall he was building between you, one you could tear down if you only pushed hard enough.

But his expression was set in stone.

“You don’t mean that,” you said, voice quieter now.

He exhaled sharply, looking away like it hurt him to see you standing there. “I do.”

Your stomach twisted. “Why?”

“Because this has to stop.” His voice wasn’t unkind, but it was firm. “This… whatever you did to me.”

You shook your head. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re a liar. You seduce your way to people. I’m sure of it. You dance in that way for men and for women, you are what? A stripper? It was fun, wasn’t it? To walk inside this place but not being more than a sin?”

He could have slapped you in your cheek and it would hurt less. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you could only stare at him, stunned.

Joel had never spoken to you like this before. Not even when he had been cautious of you, when he had been wary and careful with his words.

This was cruelty.

A slow, sharp ache curled in your chest, pressing against your ribs like a wound you hadn’t braced for. Your hands trembled, and you clenched your hands “Is that what you think of me?”

Joel didn’t answer. He just looked at you, his jaw locked tight, his fists at his sides like he was trying to convince himself of his own words.

You swallowed hard, blinking back the sting of tears. “You think I was playing with you?” Your voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it, something raw and unsteady. “That I… what? Tricked you? Made you feel something you didn’t want to feel?”

His silence told you everything. You let out a bitter, hollow laugh, shaking your head. “You’re a coward.”

That got a reaction. Joel’s gaze snapped to yours, something dark flickering in his eyes. “Watch yourself.”

“Why? You think you can hurt me more than you already have?” You took a step forward, your voice trembling now. “I didn’t do anything to you, Joel. You were the one who kept looking for me. You were the one who made me feel—”

You stopped yourself, pressing your lips together, shaking your head. He didn’t deserve to hear it.

“I should have known,” you murmured, voice quieter now, laced with something almost mournful. “I should have known you’d find a way to make me the villain as everyone else.

Joel swallowed, his throat bobbing. But he didn’t say anything.

You took a shaky breath, willing your voice to stay steady. “I never wanted to hide this, Joel.”

Then you turned away, walking toward the door.

But before you left, you hesitated, your fingers tightening on one of the pews. You didn’t turn around when you spoke again.

“I hope you can sleep at night,” you whispered. “There is no pray you can use to feel better about yourself.”

The church fell into an eerie silence. He stood frozen at the altar, his grip tight around the pulpit as the heavy wooden doors groaned shut behind you. Your words still rang in his ears, they feel like bleeding.

"There is no prayer you can use to feel better about yourself."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. But what was he really mad about? Was it the fact that you had hidden this part of yourself from him? Or was it something he didn’t want to name?

His fingers flexed against themselves.  He told himself it was about you, about the way you had let him believe you were someone else, perhaps pure. Someone untouched by the kind of life he had walked into that night at the club. Someone untainted.

But deep down, in the part of himself he didn’t let see the light. He knew that was a lie.

It wasn’t the lie. It wasn’t about the way you danced, about the way you let people look at you, about the way they whispered your name in the dark.

It was pure jealousy. A slow-burning, sickening jealousy that clawed at his ribs, that twisted inside him until he couldn’t breathe. Because he had wanted to be the first. The first to see you like that, to watch you, to take in the way you moved, the way you let your body speak without uttering a single word.

The first to know the weight of your touch, the warmth of your skin, the sound of your voice when you said his name and not just Father.

But he wasn’t. He would never be. Joel squeezed his eyes shut. The pulpit felt wrong beneath his hands; the church suddenly too quiet, too empty.

He had spent years preaching about self-control. About discipline. About resisting temptation.

But no one had ever told him what to do when he was the one being tempted.

When the sin didn’t come from you—but from him.

And that was the worst part of all.

The music pulsed through the walls, the usual hum of the club coming to life as the night stretched on. But tonight, it felt distant. Muted. You ears ringed.

You sat in front of the mirror, fingers resting in your lap, staring at your reflection without really seeing it. Your costume was half on, shimmering fabric draped around you, waiting to be fastened. But you couldn’t bring yourself to finish.

Because no matter how much you tried to shake Joel’s words from your head, they clung to you like ghosts.

"You seduce your way to people."

"I’m sure of it."

"It was fun, wasn’t it? To walk inside this place but not being more than a sin.”

Your throat tightened.

You had never felt this ashamed of yourself before. Not for dancing. Not for the way you made people feel about you. The stage had been your home long before any church and its priest. It was the one place where you had control over your body, over the way people saw you. This time it was different but still was the closer you had.

And now? Now, it felt like your skin was too tight. Like if you stepped onto that stage, it wouldn’t be you anymore. It would be whatever Joel thought you were.

A hand landed gently on your shoulder, and you jolted, blinking out of your thoughts.

Billy stood beside you; his brows furrowed in concern. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Estrellita?”

You tried to smile. Failed. “Nothing.”

Billy scoffed. “Don’t lie to me, cariño. I know that look.” He knelt beside you, adjusting the hem of your costume with practiced ease. “Who do I have to fight?”

A soft, breathy laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “You? Fight?”

He grinned. “Don’t underestimate me. I might be small, but I’m scrappy.”

Something in your chest loosened, just a little.

Billy had been one of the first people to welcome you into the club, one of the first to make you feel safe. You had learned his story in pieces—how he had been thrown out of his home when his parents found out he was gay, how he had wandered the streets for days before stumbling into this place.

He had found his family here. His home.

Just like you had. And for the first time that night, you felt something like steadiness return.

Maybe Joel didn’t understand. Maybe he never would.

But Billy did. Carmen did. Everyone who worked here saw you and they still loved you.

Billy squeezed your hand, his voice softer now. “You don’t have to dance tonight if you don’t want to.”

You looked at him, at the warmth in his eyes, the quiet understanding there. Maybe you didn’t feel like dancing tonight.

But you weren’t going to let Joel take this from you.

You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders. “I want to.”

Billy searched your face for a moment before nodding, helping you fasten the last of your costume.

As you stepped onto the stage, the lights warmed your skin, the music vibrated through your bones.

And just like that, you let the weight of the night fall away.

The music pulsed through your veins, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. The stage lights bathed you in warmth, illuminating the shimmering fabric of your red suit as you stepped forward. The crowd murmured in expectation, eyes fixed on you, waiting for you to come.

So, you danced. You let the rhythm take you, let your body move as it always had, fluid, effortless, free. The music carried you, and for the first time that night, you felt like yourself again.

Until you saw him here again. Your breath hitched mid-spin.

Joel.

Hidden in the corner of the club, dressed in dark clothes, a cap pulled low over his face. His hands wrapped around a glass of whiskey, but his gaze, his gaze was all on you.

The weight of it burned, heavy and unreadable as if he was tracing marks with fire over your skin.

Your stomach twisted, your limbs faltering as a shockwave of something sharp and unbearable ran through you. He wasn’t just watching, he was consuming you with his stare, with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

And just like that, your legs gave in, ankle wobbling.

Your balance tipped.

A sharp gasp cut through the music as you stumbled, your heel catching awkwardly against the stage and you fell. The floor met you hard, the impact sending a jolt up your spine, stealing the air from your lungs.

Silence. The club held its breath.

The murmurs started then, a mix of concern and amusement rippling through the room. Billy was already moving toward you, but before he could reach you, someone else was there.

Joel.

His hand was on your arm before you could blink, strong and steady, lifting you to your feet like you weighed nothing at all.

Your heart pounded as you stared up at him.

His jaw was clenched, his brows drawn together, his breath uneven.

You should have been embarrassed. Should have been angry. But all you could think about was why.

Why was he here? Why he has come back here after all he said?

Why was he looking at you like that? And why, after everything, did he still come running the second you fell?

Joel’s grip on your arm was firm but fleeting. The moment he was sure you were steady, he let go like your skin had burned him. His face was unreadable, stormy eyes, tense jaw, lips pressed into a hard line.

You barely had time to take a breath before he turned away.

No words. No explanation. Just gone.

The moment he disappeared into the shadows, Billy was at your side, helping you the rest of the way up. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, searching your face.

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

But your hands were still trembling.

Carmen appeared next, her gaze flicking toward the direction Joel had vanished before settling on you with knowing eyes.

Neither of them said a word about him. They didn’t have to.

The music had already started up again, the club moving on as if nothing had happened. As if you hadn’t just fallen, as if the man you’d spent days trying to reach hadn’t just been here, watching.

You exhaled sharply, forcing your shoulders back. If Joel wanted to act like this meant nothing, like you meant nothing.

You weren’t going to chase him. So, with the eyes of the room still on you, you turned toward the crowd, lifted your chin, and danced.

Back in the dressing room, the adrenaline had started to wear off, leaving behind a hollow ache in your chest. You wiped at the sweat on your brow, breathing in deeply, trying to ground yourself.

But before you could even sit down, Billy and Carmen were already on you.

Carmen leaned against the vanity, arms crossed, one perfectly arched brow raised. "So... what was the priest doing here?"

Billy, standing beside her, nodded, arms folded tightly. "Yeah, and why was he dressed like some guy sneaking into a bar for the first time?"

You ran a hand over your face, sighing. "I don’t know."

Carmen scoffed. "Bullshit. He was watching you, clear as day."

Billy narrowed his eyes. "And then he just left when you fell? Didn’t even say anything?"

Your stomach twisted. "No."

Carmen let out a low whistle. "Damn. That man is tortured."

Billy leaned closer; his voice softer. "And you?"

You hesitated. What were you supposed to say? That seeing Joel there had rattled you to your core? That his stare had nearly burned through you, stripping you bare in ways you weren’t prepared for? That part of you had been desperate for him to stay?

That would be admitting too much.

So instead, you shook your head. "It doesn’t matter."

Billy and Carmen exchanged a look, but neither pushed further.

“Yo conozco a un hombre enamorado cuando lo veo” (I know when a man is in love when I see him” he said. Leaving, to help another of the dancers with her dress.

A man in love?

Later at night. You were back at the house you shared with Carmen. After the show and all the emotions storming in your head, you were getting ready to go to sleep, removing, the makeup, brushing your hair and slip into an oversized t-shirt you wore to sleep.

You were at the kitchen, sipping a cup of warm tea, while the clock shown two a.m. in the morning. You were about to go to the bedroom when a knock at the door stopped you.

You stood frozen in place, your fingers still curled around the mug. The knock at the door echoed through the quiet of the house, cutting through the remnants of the night like a blade.

Your heart pounded. No one came to see you at this hour.

Taking a slow breath, you stepped toward the door, pausing just before your hand reached the knob. Another knock. Firmer this time. You swallowed hard and opened it.

Joel stood there, bathed in the dim glow of the streetlamp. His dark eyes flickered over you, over your loose dress, the curve of your collarbone, the tired set of your features. He was still wearing the clothes from earlier, his shirt wrinkled, his hair slightly mussed like he had run his hands through it too many times.

Neither of you spoke, but you stepped back, just enough to leave the door open. An invitation.

Joel hesitated. His hands curled into fists at his sides like he was fighting himself, but then, he stepped inside.

The house was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single oil lamp casting shadows along the walls. Carmen’s door was closed; she was still out, unaware of the storm brewing in the doorway of your shared home.

You crossed your arms, your t-shirt brushing against your skin. “You shouldn’t be here,” you murmured, echoing his own words.

Joel’s jaw tightened. “I know.” But he didn’t leave.

You watched him, the way his shoulders rose and fell with slow, measured breaths. His eyes never left yours, dark and unreadable.

He looked tired. Like he hadn’t slept in days.

You swallowed. “What do you want?” then you pause, “Why were you at the club tonight?”

Joel let out a slow breath, running a hand over his face. “I—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

You tilted your head. “You don’t know?”

His gaze flickered down your frame before he tore it away, shaking his head. “I just—” He exhaled sharply. “I see you everywhere. When I close my eyes. When I—” He cut himself off again, rubbing the back of his neck. “It won’t stop.”

Your throat tightened.

"I'm sorry" he began, "what I said about you...I was wrong. You're not—You're not at all of that. You're not a sin. That was so wrong of me to say."

He took the scene in front of him, red eyes, glisten and red from all the crying. He had seen the way he had broken your heart in a cruel manner, throwing daggers at you without even thinking, without hearing what you had to share.

There were no words left for him to make this better.

"I-I thought I could trust you." you replied, barely hearing your own words,"you were so kind to me all this time but you weren't capable of hearing my truth. Instead you heard people calling me names and cursing my name with venom, and that father, that makes you as shitty as all people in this fucking town."

"I-"

"Leave, father. Don't waste your words in a whore like me, you could get burned." An as a final statement, you closed the door leaving him standing there, speechless and with a heart so heavy he could barely stay stand in place.

Joel didn’t move for a long moment. He stood there, staring at the closed door, your words ringing in his ears.

You could get burned. Perhaps he already had.

The weight in his chest was suffocating. He had come here thinking he could make it right, that his apology, his regret, would be enough to fix the damage he’d caused. But there was no fixing this, was there?

Because you were right.

He had judged you without listening. He had let his own fears, his own jealousy, fester into something ugly, and he had taken it out on you.

His hands curled into fists at his sides. He wanted to knock again, to beg you to open the door, to please let him try—But he had lost that right.

With a sharp inhale, Joel forced himself to step back. To turn away.

The night air was cold when he stepped outside, but it wasn’t enough to dull the ache in his chest. He walked through the empty streets of town, past the glowing streetlamps and shuttered windows. He should have gone home, should have locked himself away and prayed for forgiveness.

But instead, he found himself back at the church.

The place that had once given him solace now felt suffocating. He stood in the center of the room, looking up at the altar, at the cross above it.

What had he done? He sank onto one of the pews, dropping his head into his hands.

Maybe this was his punishment. To pray until his heart stop bleeding.

Next day, Joel’s voice carried through the church, steady and memorized words that felt empty.

He had given hundreds of sermons before, about faith, about redemption, about the weight of sin and the promise of forgiveness. But today, the words felt hollow in his mouth. He spoke about grace. About salvation.

But his mind was elsewhere.

On you.

He kept glancing at the doors between sentences, expecting—hoping—to see you walk in.

But you never did. The pews were full, the congregation nodding along, but the one person he had been searching for wasn’t there.

He had told himself it was for the best. That his anger, his frustration, his jealousy—God help him, his jealousy—had been justified. That staying away from you was the only way to rid himself of this ache, this temptation.

But every day that passed without seeing you felt like a slow unraveling, like a thread pulled too tight, ready to snap.

And now, standing at the pulpit, words leaving his lips with no real meaning behind them, Joel realized. He didn’t know what the hell he was even talking about anymore.

Continuing with the day, the town square had come alive with laughter and soft music, the scent of roasted nuts and fresh bread hanging in the air. Stalls lined the streets, filled with handmade crafts, sweet pastries, and bottles of drinks, lemonade and children running between the booths, their carefree joy a stark contrast to the weight pressing down on your chest.

You walked slowly, keeping your head high, but you felt it, the judgment, the whispers.

Women clutched their baskets tighter as they passed you, their gazes cold and cutting. A few of them turned their backs as if your mere presence tainted the space. You weren’t surprised. You had expected it after that night. After Joel. After he had spoke about sin.

What you hadn’t expected was the men. The ones who had watched you under the dim lights of the club, whiskey glasses clutched in their hands, their eyes heavy with hunger. They weren’t turning away.

They were staring. Lingering.

The way their eyes traced over you made your skin crawl, the same gazes that once felt like power now left you feeling exposed.

You swallowed hard and pulled your shawl tighter around your shoulders, your heart pounding.

The sun hung high in the sky, warming the cobbled streets as you wandered through the people, stalls lined the path, displaying fresh produce, homemade bread, and steaming pots of food. The scent of roasted corn and spices lingered in the air, mixing with the distant sound of a guitar being played by a street performer.

You stopped at a stand where an older woman stirred a large jar of lemonade, the condensation on the glass glistening in the light.

"Una limonada, por favor," (A lemonade, please?) you said, reaching for your coin purse.

The woman’s stirring slowed, her eyes flicking up to meet yours. Her mouth pressed into a thin line, and she didn’t move to pour the drink.

Behind her, another woman, one of the same ladies who had spoken to Joel that morning at the church,leaned in, whispering something into her ear. The vendor’s expression hardened.

"Sorry, I don’t speak Spanish” she said flatly, setting down the ladle. "But there is no more left."

You blinked, glancing at the nearly full jar. "I can see it full."

The woman wiped her hands on her apron and turned away as if you weren’t standing there at all.

Heat crept up your neck, not from the sun, but from the weight of the stares you suddenly felt around you. A few of the other vendors had gone quiet, their conversations dying as they turned to watch. You recognized some of them, women who had smiled at you in passing before. Now, their faces were unreadable, their expressions edged with something closer to disdain.

You exhaled slowly, setting your coins back into your pocket. "A la mierda con esto” (Fuck this) you murmured, stepping back.

You turned, walking away with your head high, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing how much it stung.

The whispers started as soon as your back was turned.

“She is shameless”

"And then she was fine, as if nothing had happened."

"After what happened in the church..."

Your fingers curled into your palms as you picked up your pace, pushing through the small crowd until you were free of them.

It wasn’t the first time you'd felt like an outsider in this town. But today, it felt different. Today, it felt personal, like daggers thrown in your direction.

You didn’t go far. Just enough to be away from the whispers, away from the stares that burned into your skin like embers.

A quiet little street opened up ahead, lined with a low wooden fence overlooking a field. The wind swayed through the tall grass, the golden tips catching the sunlight. You sat down, letting your hands rest on the rough wood, the warmth of the day still clinging to it.

And then, finally, the tears fell.

You bit your lip, staring at the horizon as your chest tightened. You had told yourself you wouldn’t let them get to you. That you wouldn’t let their judgment, their disdain, push you down. But here you were, shoulders trembling, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your blouse like a child.

It was everything. The weight of the past meeting the present, the uncertainty of the future. The ache of missing your old life.

The sound of footsteps on gravel made you stiffen.

You wiped your face quickly, trying to gather yourself before turning your head.

Joel stood a few feet away.

His brows furrowed, eyes scanning your face, taking in the redness around your eyes, the slight shake of your hands. His jaw tensed.

He had that look again, the one he always got when he was trying not to feel too much.

"You following me now, Father?" you asked, your voice rough from crying, trying to mask the way your throat still ached.

Joel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he sighed, stepping closer.

"I saw what happened," he said, voice lower, like he didn’t want to say it too loud. Like he didn’t want to remind you of it.

You scoffed, looking away. "Guess the whole town did."

Joel was quiet for a moment. Then, he sat down beside you, elbows resting on his knees, staring out at the field like you were.

"You don’t have to prove anything to them," he said finally.

You swallowed, blinking rapidly. "I know."

"Do you?"

You turned your head sharply, meeting his gaze. He didn’t look smug, didn’t look like he was trying to challenge you. If anything, he looked… concerned.

And for some reason, that made your chest hurt even more.

You exhaled shakily, dropping your gaze to your lap. "I just—" Your voice wavered, and you bit the inside of your cheek before shaking your head. "It doesn’t matter."

Joel didn’t push. Didn’t demand you say more. But when his hand came to rest lightly on your back, a steady warmth between your shoulder blades, you nearly broke all over again.

You didn’t move because Joel’s hand was warm, grounding over your back. He didn’t rub circles into your back, didn’t try to pull you closer, didn’t say anything at all. Just let his touch be there, solid, steady, unshaken by the weight of your silence.

You sniffed, staring out at the field, blinking quickly to stop more tears from falling.

"You should go," you murmured.

But Joel didn’t move.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "They already don’t like me. And if they see you sitting here—"

"I don’t care," Joel interrupted, his voice firm.

You turned to look at him, brows furrowing. "Yes, you do."

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking. "Maybe I do," he admitted. "But not enough to leave you sitting here like this."

The words hit something deep inside you, something you weren’t ready to face. You pressed your lips together, looking down at your hands.

Joel sighed beside you, shifting slightly.

"They’ll get over it," he said. "Eventually."

You let out a dry, humorless laugh. "You sure about that?"

A pause.

"No," he said simply. "But people forget. They always do."

You swallowed, staring at the dirt path beneath your feet.

"I don’t know how much more I can take," you admitted, voice small.

Joel was quiet for a long moment. Then—"You wanna get outta here?"

You looked at him, confused. "What?"

He nodded toward the dirt road, toward the open fields beyond the town. "Come on. Let’s take a drive."

You hesitated. "Joel—"

"Come on, let he said. "Just… somewhere else."

You searched his face, trying to understand him.

"Do you want to get out of town for the day?" He asked, struggling to take words out your lips.

"What?" You asked, dumfounded.

"Get out. You and me. We can go to the beach for the day, wherever you want.”

"Are you for real?"

He stood, offering his hand out for you. Joel's hand hovered between you, fingers slightly curled, waiting. His jaw was tight, his shoulders stiff like he was bracing himself for rejection.

"I know I don't deserve it," he said, voice rough, "but just—just for the day. No town, no church, no whispers. Just us."

You stared at him, searching for a lie, a trap, but there was nothing but raw sincerity in his face.

For a moment, you thought about telling him to go to hell. About slamming a door in his face again, making him sit with the mess he had made.

But then, you thought about the weight pressing on your chest, the suffocating stares when you walked through town, the way you felt like you couldn't breathe anymore.

And you thought about him. About the Joel you had known all this time.

The one who had been kind. The one who had made you laugh. The one who had looked at you like you were something worth knowing, something worth.

You exhaled sharply. "The whole day?"

His throat bobbed as he nodded.

You hesitated for only a second before reaching out and slipping your fingers into his. His palm was warm, calloused, solid.

"Okay," you said quietly. "The whole day.”

The drive through California's highway felt warm, the sun spilling golden light over the dry hills and endless stretches of road. The hum of the engine was the only sound, the occasional breeze ruffling your hair as you drove, the windows rolled down. There was something about the air, the space, that felt different—like you could breathe for the first time in days.

Joel kept his eyes on the road, but you could see his hands grip the wheel tighter than usual, his knuckles white, like he was trying to hold onto something. You weren't sure what, but his silence was louder than anything else, and you couldn't help but steal glances at him now and then. His jaw was set, his face a little more drawn than you remembered, but there was something else—something softer about the way he looked at the road, like he was giving himself permission to leave everything behind, even if just for a moment.

When you arrived at the beach, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filled the air, soothing and constant. Joel pulled into a parking spot, then reached into his pocket for some change, heading to a nearby stand to grab ice cream. You lingered by the car, watching the ocean stretch out before you, the sand warm under your feet as you took in the vastness of it all.

Joel returned a few moments later, holding two cones. "Here," he said, handing you one, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Do you like chocolate?"

You nodded, accepting the cone. "Yeah, thanks."

He sat down next to you on the sand, his shoulders relaxed for the first time all day. The warmth of the sun on your skin felt comforting, like it was inviting you to leave everything behind and just exist for a while.

You took a bite of the ice cream, the cold sweetness a perfect contrast to the heat of the day, and sighed. For the first time in so long, you weren’t worried. You felt free.

You took another bite of your ice cream, the sweetness swirling in your mouth, but the question still lingered in your mind. You glanced at Joel, watching him for a moment as he stared out at the ocean, seemingly lost in thought. The steady rhythm of the waves only seemed to deepen the silence between you two.

After a few moments, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. “When was the last time you saw a woman in those clothes?” you asked, your voice quiet but clearly talking about the night he saw you at the club for the first time.

Joel turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing as if the question caught him off guard. He blinked once, then twice, as though trying to piece together the question in his mind. Finally, he sighed, his eyes dropping to his ice cream cone, his voice low.

“Never,” he said simply.

The word hung in the air like a truth neither of you were quite ready to face. You didn’t know what to say to that, but you felt something stir in your chest. Something raw. Something familiar, but unfamiliar at the same time.

You turned your gaze back to the ocean, letting the waves crash against the shore as you processed his response. Never. You wondered what that meant, what it meant about him, about you, about everything that had happened between you both. But the questions were too heavy, too complicated for this moment.

But then, “Do you want to know the real reason why I became a priest?” He asked, looking at you.

You looked at Joel, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. His gaze was fixed ahead, but there was something in the way he spoke, something raw that made you realize you were hearing a part of him he hadn’t shared with anyone.

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

He hesitated, his hand gripping the edge of his ice cream cone a little tighter. He didn’t meet your eyes, but you could feel the weight of his words coming, like a burden he’d been carrying for a long time. “I became a priest because a woman broke my heart.”

Your throat tightened, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, so you just nodded, silently urging him to continue.

“My… what happened?” you finally managed to ask.

Joel’s lips pressed into a thin line as he took a deep breath, then slowly began to speak, each word coming out heavy, like it was wrapped in years of pain.

“We were together since we were sixteen. I married her at 21.” His voice cracked just slightly as he said it. “We were going to have a kid together. One night, we got mad at each other. She took our daughter and drove away… said she needed space.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to imagine what that must have felt like. But Joel kept going, his voice steady but distant.

“Then there was this accident…” His voice trailed off, and for a second, you thought he might stop talking. He swallowed hard before continuing. “My daughter died. And I—”

You could hear the pain in his voice, even if he tried to keep it under control.

“She was one.” He said, “Adeline survived but my Babygirl didn’t.” his voice almost breaking.

“I stopped seeing grey hair and holding hands in my seventies on a porch,” he said, his words quiet but heavy. “I just never thought I would be able to love someone else that way.”

For a long moment, you couldn’t say anything. His words hung in the air like they were too big to process all at once. You could feel the weight of everything he was carrying, the layers of grief and loss, and the way he was trying to put his life together again, piece by piece.

But then you felt it, how much of this story wasn’t just about his wife or daughter, but about everything that had happened between you two. How much he had been struggling with the things he’d said, the things he’d believed about you. How much pain he was still holding on to.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you whispered.

He gave you a soft, almost imperceptible nod, but he didn’t say anything more. Instead, he just let the silence stretch between you both, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like there were walls between you. It just felt like two broken people, sitting side by side, with a shared understanding that didn’t need to be spoken out loud.

You sat there for a moment, the cool breeze from the ocean ruffling your hair, the sound of the waves crashing rhythmically against the shore. The weight of Joel’s story lingered in the air between you, but the silence felt different now, less heavy and more... shared. As if, for just a moment, both of you could exist in this small, quiet space without the world pressing down on you.

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say to something so raw, so painful? But your heart ached for him in a way you hadn’t expected, and before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his hand.

His hand was tense at first, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to let someone in. But when he felt the warmth of your touch, his body seemed to relax, and slowly, his fingers unfurled. You let your hand settle in his, fingers entwining as the quiet of the beach surrounded you.

“How old were you back when it happened?” you asked, fearing he would get offended by it.

“Twenty-two” he replied, simply.

“Why did you think you would never love someone again?”

“Because love hurt people.” He said, “It makes you dumb and afraid of yourself and I didn’t want that happening to me ever again.”

“But maybe there was someone out there. “

“I’m forty-eight, darling. There is no one for me out there.” He said without glancing at you but at the sea because deep down, he knew that someone was sitting next to him, and he was afraid to admit he had sacred vows at such young age when his perspective was tainted by hurt.

“I don’t have the answers for you, Joel,” you said softly, your voice steady, despite the storm of emotions swirling inside. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He didn’t respond right away. He just looked at you, his thumb brushing over your hand slowly, thoughtfully. You could see the battle inside him, the conflict of wanting to open up but being so afraid of what that might mean.

Joel’s eyes met yours, his gaze intense yet searching, as if trying to read the words you hadn’t spoken yet. You felt a strange pull inside, the urge to break through the silence and share something that had been buried deep within you for a long time.

He nodded slightly, his voice a whisper, “Yeah, if you want to share.”

You took a slow breath, your fingers still tangled with his, the connection between you grounding you in this moment. The ocean breeze was soft against your skin.

“I’m a ballerina” you said.

Joel’s eyes widened slightly, his thumb still brushing over your hand in a soothing, almost unconscious rhythm. He hadn’t expected that. The quiet intensity in his gaze softened just a bit, as if he were seeing a side of you that he hadn’t imagined before.

“You’re a ballerina?” His voice sounded surprised, as though the revelation was both unexpected and fascinating to him.

You nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Yeah, I was. I went to university and studied dance. It wasn’t just a passion; it was everything to me. I put in hours, years… But things happened. Life happened."

You looked out at the horizon, the ocean stretching endlessly in front of you, as though it might somehow offer the words you were struggling to find.

“I taught little girls how to become dancers too,” you continued, your voice a little quieter now. “I used to love watching them, seeing the joy in their faces when they learned something new. They were like little versions of me, full of dreams and possibilities. But…”

Joel’s expression softened further, and he leaned back slightly, taking in your words with a mix of empathy and understanding. “What happened?” he asked, his voice gentle, as though he were offering you the space to say whatever you needed.

You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to share the full story, but the words came anyway. “Achilles’ heel” you said.

Joel raised an eyebrow, leaning in just a little, intrigued by the sudden shift in your words. “Achilles’ heel?” he repeated softly, almost as if testing the phrase on his tongue.

You nodded, your eyes tracing the rhythm of the waves as you tried to gather your thoughts. “Yeah,” you began, your voice quiet but steady. “I got that injury and everything stopped.” you stopped, biting your lip as if the words themselves were too sharp to say.

You were lying a bit, but not entirely.

Joel’s gaze softened, his face etched with understanding as he listened to you, his body now angled toward you, as if every part of him was leaning in to hear your truth.

Joel’s eyes never left yours, his expression full of empathy, as if he could sense the weight behind your words, even if you weren’t saying everything. His hand tightened slightly around yours, a silent reassurance. “I get it,” he said softly, his voice steady. “The thing that defines you, that you think is everything... and then it’s gone. Like the ground beneath you suddenly disappears.”

You nodded slowly, the tightness in your chest spreading as you realized how much that injury had really taken from you, even if it wasn’t just physical. It had been more than a torn muscle or a strained tendon—it had been the loss of something you’d built your identity on. The thing that had once made you feel like you had a purpose, a place in the world.

“Everything stopped, yeah," you said again, more to yourself than to him. “I didn’t know how to live without it. I still don’t really know who I am outside of it. I’ve spent so much time trying to get back to that... and sometimes, I wonder if it’s even possible.”

Joel’s gaze softened further, and for a moment, the world around you felt distant, like it was just the two of you, suspended in the quiet of the beach. His voice, when it came, was calm, but it held a depth of understanding that surprised you.

“You’re more than that. More than just what you’ve done or what you’ve lost,” he said, his words carrying a weight of truth. “I can see it. You’re still you, even without all of it. You don’t have to keep chasing something that doesn’t define you.”

His words hit harder than you expected. You hadn’t realized how much you had been holding onto the idea of your past, of who you used to be, instead of seeing who you were now. It was easier to cling to something that felt familiar, even if it hurt.

“Dancing at the club is the closer I got to live from what I love” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability in it raw and real.

Joel’s thumb brushed across your hand again, the softest of motions, but it felt like the most grounding thing.

Joel’s gaze never left yours, his expression gentle but unwavering. The weight of your words seemed to settle between you, hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. He squeezed your hand softly, as though offering comfort, or perhaps just a reminder that you weren’t alone in this.

“That’s... that’s something, you know?” he said quietly, his voice filled with understanding. “I can see how much it means to you, even if it’s not the same as what you imagined. You’re still living it. It’s just... in a different way.”

You nodded slowly, the warmth of his words sinking in. "It’s not the same, though. It’s not what I dreamed of when I was younger, when I thought I’d be teaching classes, running my own studio, surrounded by little girls learning to dance. But at least when I’m on that stage, it feels like I’m close to who I was before... like a part of me hasn’t completely disappeared."

Joel’s thumb continued to move over the back of your hand, the quiet gesture a grounding presence in the midst of everything swirling inside you. He didn't speak immediately, letting the silence hang there, as though giving you space to breathe and reflect.

“Sorry for what I called you before” he said, looking at your eyes.

You met his gaze, a small, uncertain smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Sorry for what you had been through. I think you’re stronger than you realize. Stronger than you’ve given yourself credit for.”

Joel’s eyes softened, the weight of your words settling between you both, filling the space with a quiet understanding. He inhaled deeply, as though your response had lifted a burden he hadn’t even realized he was still carrying. For a moment, neither of you said anything, simply sitting in the comfort of each other’s presence. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was the only thing that filled the silence, their rhythm slow and steady, like the pulse of life itself.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever really be okay,” Joel finally said, his voice low, carrying the weight of years of unspoken pain. “But I’m trying. I’m trying for me, and for... everyone around me, even if it’s hard.”

You squeezed his hand gently, your heart swelling with empathy. “That’s all anyone can do. Try. It’s enough.”

He turned his head toward you, his gaze searching, but this time it was softer, more open. “I hurt you. I called you things... things that weren’t true. And for that, I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to handle all the... feelings. And the confusion.”

You felt a knot form in your throat, but you swallowed it down, nodding in acknowledgment. “I know. I get it. And I’m sorry for... for pushing you away when I shouldn’t have. It’s just... I didn’t know who to trust anymore.”

He didn’t reply right away, his thumb moving in slow circles against the back of your hand, grounding you both once more. The world around you seemed to fade into the background, as though nothing else existed but the two of you on that beach, sharing this fragile moment.

After a few moments, he whispered, “I never wanted to hurt you. Never.”

“I know,” you whispered back, your voice filled with the same quiet sincerity. “I know you didn’t.”

Joel took a deep breath, looking back at the ocean for a moment before turning his gaze to you once again. “Maybe... maybe we can start over. No labels. No expectations. Just... us.”

You smiled softly, a real smile, one that reached your eyes. “I’d like that.”

With that, he leaned in, his forehead gently resting against yours, as the sound of the waves filled the air around you. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes, conveying all the unspoken emotions that had built up between you.

The night sky had settled over the town by the time you and Joel returned, the world around you bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. The air was cooler now, the warmth of the day fading into the peaceful stillness of the evening. The drive back had been quiet, but the silence between you didn’t feel heavy—it felt comfortable, like the kind of silence that only comes from being in the presence of someone who understands without needing to say a word.

As you reached the edge of town, Joel parked in front of his house, getting out the vehicle, you turned to Joel, your heart still full from the day you had shared. You broke the silence, your voice soft but sincere.

"Thank you for taking me out of the city, Joel" you said, your lips curving into a smile that reached your eyes, accentuating the little wrinkles at the corners that made his heart skip a beat.

He glanced at you, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Did you feel good?”

"I did. Thank you again."

Joel’s gaze lingered on you, his expression softening as he looked into your eyes. "It was nothing," he replied, his voice low, yet filled with sincerity. "Seeing you smile like this is enough for me."

"I'm really sorry for what I said to you the other day, you aren't that. You're not a sin but an angel."

You felt your heart flutter at his words. They were simple, yet they meant everything. You took a small step closer to him, the space between you shrinking until you could almost feel his warmth, the subtle scent of him mingling with the cool night air. His cheeks flushed softly as he noticed how close you were.

Your smile widened, and you took a step closer to him, his cheeks tinted in soft pink as he realized how close you were, in front of him, tiptoeing in your feet to place a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek.

How could he be so close to you and not falling into temptation? How could he be so close and not dive into the waters and be sunbathed by your light?

He didn't want it to admit it, but his heart spoke for him. Sending clear signals, each beating, slow and fast, it was all because of you.

Because of the way you were.

Because of your smile.

Because of the little wrinkles on your nose when you smiled.

And because of how your face was sun kissed by the day you had shared today looked like under the light of his own eyes.

Without thinking, Joel cupped your face gently with both hands, his touch tender as he gazed down at you. You gasped softly, your breath catching in your throat, as he leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on your forehead, his eyes closing in the moment.

You didn’t want to admit it either, but your heart was bursting in that instant. He was everything you had dreamed of, a man who could love you with such sweetness, with such kindness, that he could build a fire just to keep you warm.

"Joel?" You spoke at the silence settled, his eyes seemed lost on your face, still inhaling the scent of vanilla of your perfume as if he wanted to memorize it forever.

You hesitated, your eyes flicking around as if you expected the world to turn against you, the hateful glares of the town’s people coming for you, their judgmental eyes sharp and heavy.

"I don’t think I should," you replied, the words tentative, the unease of the world outside pressing against you.

Joel’s voice was steady as he met your gaze. "There’s tea inside."

You chuckled softly, the corners of your lips lifting in amusement as you met his eyes. "Oh, you should have started by saying that."

Having you close was healing something he thought it was forever broken.

And he smiled, opening the door of his house that seemed to welcome you all over again, a fort where you could truly be you and him, with no eyes watching.

"You can stay over." he said out if nowhere.

"Why?"

"Because it's late and I don't want you walking alone at this time." He replied, trying to convince himself that was the only reason he wanted you here, closer to where he was.

"that's nice, but seriously why?" You asked him again, softly, looking for the real reason behind those soft brown eyes that made you this weak.

"This place seems brighter with you in it." Joel’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red as he met your gaze, his voice barely a whisper now. "This place seems brighter with you in it."

The words hung in the air between you, as if they were a secret the two of you had just shared. You smiled, a tender, knowing smile that spoke volumes without needing to say anything more.

"Okay." you smiled.

"Okay." he said after, mirroring the same lopsided smile he prayed to see each day.

And both of you laughed at the same time. Every possible line to be crossed was already crossed. This day you had both shared has ripened into love, it had consumed you, completed you as if the soul has spoken the words "oh, I already found you."

Perhaps, Joel was the destination where your strings landed on.

And perhaps, you were the soul Joel had given up to a long time ago, he had found you, and he stayed, worshipping the poems he had written about you all these years.

tags: if you want to be removed, you're free to tell me.

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[ochacoca]

hey could u write an angsty fic where the reader thinks akaashi is too good for them pls thank youuu

I WOULD GIVE YOU THE MOON

3rd year!akaashi x gn!reader

now playing ♫ moon song by phoebe bridgers

IN WHICH your boyfriend doesn't let the thought of you not being good enough for him haunt you.

word count: 1,286 words

content: angst, hurt/comfort, 3rd year!akaashi, 3rd year!reader, pre-established relationship, happy ending

Ever since you began dating, you never understood how someone like Keiji ended up with someone like you.

He was so attentive, so thoughtful, and so kind. He had his weird quirks that made him unique. Keiji remembered every small detail about you. How you liked your tea, how to calm you down, how to put you to sleep at night when your mind won't stop running laps. He was an amazing partner and you couldn't ask for more.

You'd consider yourself a good partner as well. But, you were just.. you. You were the one people approached to ask about your other friends, not you. The one who was always asked to take a picture of the group instead of being asked to be in the photo.

Anytime you tried, you couldn't find anything unique about yourself. Not your personality, not your looks, you were just average. That's what you thought of yourself and that was what you've grown up to think, even though Keiji insists otherwise.

But more recently, you've felt this weight on your shoulders. Anytime he'd bring you breakfast in bed, anytime he'd show you affection, or anything else he does on a regular basis, you would feel this churn in your stomach.

I don't deserve this.

The thought used to come and go before you even had time to acknowledge it. But now, it's all you think about.

And you become more fixated on your appearance. You couldn't blame it on the bright white lights in your bedroom or the warm yellow lights in your bathroom. Your hair was dry and frizzy, you had deep eyebags from the late nights you stayed up overthinking. You looked sick. But this never stopped his compliments.

“You look so pretty, my love.” He'd whispered in your ear when he sees you staring at yourself in the mirror for so long. He'd wrap his arms around your waist as he stood behind you, resting his chin against your shoulder.

You would always smile and thank him. But deep down, you always thought he was lying. Just trying to make you feel good about yourself, or trying to convince himself in the process.

You couldn't bring this up to him though. You wouldn't. All you could try to do was to try and be enough for him so he wouldn't find it in somebody else.

The hangout had been Bokuto's idea. After the third years graduated, there wasn't much time where the old volleyball team was able to see each other, so he curated a get-together where everyone was able to come. Even her.

You didn't hate Yukie Shirofuku. You could never. She was such a sweetheart, but you envied her with everything inside you.

She was so confident in herself without lifting a finger. So effortlessly gorgeous when you had to put hours into yourself to look at least a bit decent. When she laughed at something Keiji said, throwing her head back and holding her stomach, you felt your stomach twisting sickeningly. You hated getting jealous with every bone in your body. You wanted to brush it off, but it was hard. You didn't want to be that type of partner.

With her shine in the room, you felt invisible.

You tried to be active all night. Engaging in different conversations and such so it wouldn't seem you were in a bad mood. You didn't want to ruin the atmosphere with your negativity. But Keiji being Keiji, he already knew something was up with you.

“Are you okay?” He whispered in your ear, placing his hand on your thigh and rubbing it softly.

You moved your head to face him, slapping on a fake smile in hopes he wouldn't notice how badly you wanted to leave. “Hm? Yeah, I'm fine.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously but nodded, not wanting to push it any furthur incase you got uncomfortable. But after a few minutes passed, he could see it in your body language. The way you shifted in your seat, how you picked at your nails and cracked your knuckles.

“Do you want to go back home?” He whispered again in your ear. You sighed, you couldn't deny it anymore. You nodded and he nodded back before standing up and gathering your things.

“Okay, I'll drop you off.”

You stood up beside him and gently grabbed his hands. “But what about your friends?” You said. You didn't want to be the reason he didn't hang out with his friends.

But he only smiled at you and shook his head. “I have more opportunities to see them again. Let's go.”

You had been avoiding his gaze since you left Bokuto's house. You would see through your peripheral at every red stoplight in the car how he'd look at you, with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips slightly parted. However, you continued to look out the window. Now, you're standing in front of the door to your house, waiting to go inside. You unlock the door and twist the knob to step in, but Keiji's hand catches your wrist before you could open it wide enough.

“Wait.” He mumbled. He gently tugged you towards him, placing his hands on your shoulders and rubbing them softly. “Just wait for a minute.”

You finally met his eyes for the first time in an hour. He had concern etched all across his face. You could see it in the way he furrowed his eyebrows, the look in his eyes, his lips pursed. “You're not okay.”

The lump formed in your throat immediately. You swallowed it down, letting out a broken laugh before speaking. “I'm sorry.” Your voice broke slightly. “It's just.. I didn't like seeing her around you.”

“With who? With Yukie?” He asked with a tone of disbelief. There was a pause in the air, and he already knew with your silence that he was right.

“I'm sorry-” You started but he cut you off before you could finish your sentence.

“Stop,” He said quickly while shaking his head. “you don't have to apologize, darling.”

“It's just..” You trailed off.

“Just what?” He asked as he tried to coax out the answer from you, with the same softness he only showed for you. You took a shaky breath and exhaled.

“Sometimes I just think you can do better, you know?” You avoided his gaze as the lump in your throat grew stronger. “I feel like you’re wasting your time with me. I can't give you what you deserve.”

“What?” His expression softened. It looked like your words physically pained him to hear. “Stop it..”

“Keiji–”

“Stop.” He cut you off as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours while softly taking your head in his hands. “Y/n, I would give you the moon if I could.

He peppered soft kisses all over your face. On your forehead, your cheeks, your temple, before finally pressing them against your lips. “Why would you think you wouldn't be enough for me?” His voice cracked and it broke you.

You didn't have an answer. You could only shrug and try looking away from him as you fought off the tears that formed in your eyes, only for Keiji to gently direct your face to look in his eyes again.

“You are perfect for me.” He whispered softly to you, pressing his body even closer against yours as he embraced you. “All I want is you.”

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