#but y'all know how I am I've gotta lot to say

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

You came — you called. | Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

credits for the header - ghost's pic by the very talented @ave661 ✦ Word count: 2.2k ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ✦ Summary: After being abused by your current date, in need of comfort, you call your ex-boyfriend and recurring fling, Simon, to talk. ✦ TW and general warnings: SFW, some kisses here and there but no smut, angst, you guys are in a complicated situationship, fluff, sensitive content (domestic violence) ✦ AO3 | Masterlist edit: I wrote a part 2 in case you're interested <3

A/N: I really need to finish my already started requests, really do but inspiration ONLY gets to me when I'm randomly existing and then a random prompt comes in mind and arghhh gotta write 😭 but I promise - if anyone reading this sent me a request, know I've started it already and I WILL finish. also, thinking really a lot about making a part 2 for this piece and making it smutty. pls let me know if anyone's interested! anyways, not proof read, hope y'all enjoy, x

━━━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━━━

It’s the same place as the last time you saw him. Ironic, maybe. You still smoke the same cigarettes he offered to you once in a promise it would help you calm down from your anxiety; it did. It did a little too much. You still wear that same necklace you refused to get rid off even after you dumped him, after you promised you’d never see him again, never talk to him again. God, hope he doesn’t get mad at that.

Truth is you’ve been failing at that for quite some time. You’ve been seeing him way more than it’s necessary, but contrary to how things used to be before, now every moment with him is a single time that ceases to exist once you get home. He texts; you ignore. He doesn’t text anymore till the next time he misses you. You ignore it till the next time you miss him. This time isn’t much different, only you have a bit more of a reason to be here, unsure if he’ll show up, smoking this damned red Marlboro and feeling like shit. Like absolute shit.

You exhale the smoke, your hair tied back in a ponytail through the cap gap. Hiding yourself.

His big broad figure fills the door in, and he comes inside. To your big surprise, he decided lastly to come; Simon looks at you with a bitter look on his face, his dirty blonde hair trimmed, his beard done, wearing one of his thousand black tight t-shirts and a pair of jeans. He looks the same as ever.

“You came.” You say, surprised as he pulls the chair back and takes the seat in front of yours. 

“You called.” He replies simply, his body relaxing spaciously in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Yeah, I did.” You let out some more smoke before discarding your cigarette on the ashtray. “But I thought you were still mad at me.” 

He looks at you in silence for a couple seconds, and scoffs.

“And that never stopped you from calling, did it?” He snorts impatiently. “Did something actually happen or are you just lonely and needing someone to help you fall asleep?” You feel derision in his attitude and his voice is dripping with venom and bitterness.

You close your eyes. Can’t blame him, can you? You had your own good reasons to break up with him, although stupidly, without thinking twice - without thinking that you’d end up missing him. Trying to find him in all the wrong places, wrong guys. 

“Well go on, Simon, what else do you still have to tell me?” You mimic him, crossing your arms and your face a little twisted in irritation facing him. “I was single, I still am. I had the right to be with someone else.” 

“I never blamed you for that. I never fucking blamed you.” Simon wipes his mouth with his hand, his ever icy expression breaking into frustration the second you open your mouth again.

“You are blaming me. You-”

“I fucking am not. I’m angry at the poor fucking choice you did. Getting rid of me for that fucker? You’re making a joke out of yourself, even for someone like me that’s fucking downgrading.” He snaps, regretting it the second later and squeezing his eyes for a moment. 

You remain silent. He’s right. He’s absolutely right. 

You stare into the distance of the window by your side, silent - embarrassed, regretful. Your hands together over your lap and your silence put together make him raise his head at you once again, in a sigh.

“I shouldn’t be here. Our conversations won’t ever end in anything good but me taking you to bed, if that’s what you want then I’ll gladly do it without all the trouble.” He states. You tremulously raise your eyebrows and your lips curl in a small hurt smile. 

Ouch.

You know he said it to hurt you. You know he’s angry, he’s hitting all the right buttons to get under your skin, he can’t help it. He can’t help but to be a bastard sometimes, he never learnt different.

Your eye stare down your own hands, you feel your lips tremble and the lump in your throat gets bigger each second. It's hard to hold back the tears, but for your dignity, you try. There's no less brutal way to admit something like that, so you vomit the words all at once.

“He hit me, Simon.”

His eyes open, the pupils slowly dilate like those of a shark that has just tasted blood for the first time.

Simon has blood on his hands. From too many people, more than you could count. And even if that's his job, never in all those hard years with him - you swore - had you ever seen him so pissed off.

The veins in his temples stood out and he swallowed bitterly, his mind empty; If he wasn't an extremely restrained man, then he would have gotten up and taken action right now. A thoughtless attitude that he might later regret - maybe.

“Tell me his address.” He snaps, his blood boiling enough for you to almost feel the heat increasing in his flesh. 

“Simon, no.” You immediately cut him off, shaking your head, almost crying at this point. "That's not what I called you for, I don't want you to hurt anyone. I broke up with him, I don't have anything to do with that son of a bitch anymore, I just-"

He interrupts you with a gesture and claps his hands to his face. He brushes his own skin roughly, as a self-reminder that if he gives in to his own anger, he'll let you down.

When he makes room for his eyes through his hands again and sees your reddened

face, tears streaming down your cheeks - he dies inside. 

He promised he’d always be there for you. He promised he’d never let you down, he’d always protect you, he’d kill for you. He said it plenty of times and you were completely aware that it was true. 

He couldn’t possibly let you down.

“No, please, I can’t- I just can’t when you cry.” He mutters, getting up from his seat and offering his hand. “You come with me. Please?”

━ ⟡ ━

The hot steaming water falls over your head, sweeping your tears as you hug your legs. Simon's fingertips brush calmly your back, he contours the bruises on your lower half like he's grieving. The silence fills in the bathroom if not for the sound of water dripping on your head. He pours some water on your back to soothe your pain - even if you're not feeling any at this point. 

"Why did you not call me before?" He asks, with painful confusion in his raspy voice. His hands are shaking and you know it's pure anger and his own incapability of holding himself back when it comes to feeling anger. You sigh, tired. 

"I don't know. I felt like I'd be unfair to you." You try to explain, your hands caressing your shins while the water runs through your skin. "And because I didn't want to get you in this state." 

His eyes narrow as he stares at you, and you shrug in response. It's clear to him why you don't like to get him stressed - he could never hurt you, but he was a danger to others.

 He waves his hands to shake off the water and stands up, grabbing and opening a clean towel for you.

You stand up, your eyes don't dare leaving his. He silently admires you, although his mind can't think much more than how guilty he feels for letting this happen to you - even though there was nothing he could do about it. You dry your feets on the mat and turn your back so he can wrap you in the towel, and he does so. 

Simon calmly brushes the towel against your shoulders, drying a bit of the water that drips from your whole body and once he’s done wrapping you in the towel, he places his hands on your back and leads you to his room.

His smell is everywhere around and what used to be intoxicating and lustful for you, is now soothing and quiet. You sit on the edge of his bed, silence seeming to be now a whole conversation between the two of you.

Your hand reaches for his and places it on your cheek. You look up at him with kitty eyes, your thumb circles the skin on the back of his hand till it finds the scar you were looking for – one of his oldest ones, according to himself. You close your eyes and snuggle into his hand, giving it a light, calming kiss.

He caresses your cheek and moves your hair from your face.

“I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” He says in a whisper. You nod, and he comes back moments later with a clean shirt of his. You tug it in your neck and quickly put it on letting the fabric run free on your body, loose. 

He starts removing rubbish from his bedside table – an ashtray, an empty can of energy drink, a gun. As you notice he seems to be trying to empty the room for you, you speak out.

"Wait, where are you going?" 

"I'll be in the living room if you need me for anything." He says simply. Before he can leave the room, you stop him by wrapping your hand on his arm. The sudden motion makes him turn around to face you, his dark eyes gazing at yours and seeming already aware of what comes next – a protest. 

"Simon." You use a warning tone, and he closes his eyes. 

"You don't want to have me around now, kitten. I'm far from calm…" He argues, calmly looking down at you now. The proximity burns you, he's too close. 

"I'm not scared." You mewl, your hands on his tough chest, he doesn't move a muscle. Your hands start trailing up to his neck, and you get on your tiptoes to wrap your arms better around him; Simon closes his eyes, drunk by the overwhelming feeling of having you so close to him. He misses you. 

One of his hands holds your wrist before you manage to curl up on his neck, and the other one gently holds on your waist. He bends down enough so he can reach your tiny self. He gives you what you want - his lips slowly catch yours in a slow, calm kiss; the warmth of his lips against yours is medicine to you – soothes all of your pain, eases all of your anxiety. He squeezes on your waist and pulls back once he starts feeling heaty and his breath starts to become uncontrolled, needy. He breaths against your lips, his eyes barely closed and his breath catching on his throat like panting. 

You stare at his lips before going back to his eyes. 

"Stop." He snarls, raising his head a bit, avoiding your face and the closeness you impose on him now. It feels wrong. You need space.

You close your eyes, you understand. It feels wrong. 

After all of this time of failed attempts to let go, to sound nonchalant and be away from each other – after all the fails and the sex, devoid of feeling type of sex, rough, delicious but raw sex, he wants to fuck you straight. He doesn't want to be angry, he wants to take you and make love to you. 

You understand. Feels wrong.

"Will you be fine here? You need to rest and I need to take a walk, clear my head." He mutters, avoiding your eyes for the sake of restraining himself. You nod. 

"I'll be alright. You'll come back, right?" You ask, looking at him - looking for his eyes. He stands back from you and nods. 

"Of course." He assures you, before caressing your hair slowly and giving you a calm kiss on the forehead. "Rest. Do not stay awake waiting for me, hear me?" He snarls, grabbing his keys and a hoodie of his, tucking it in and giving you space. 

You sit in his bed and nods, watching him leave by the room door and close it behind himself. Now alone, you close your eyes exhausted by the lack of sleep you've been having for these past few days; it doesn't take you long to fall asleep, surrounded by comfortable pillows that smell like his perfume – woody and whiskey. 

Walking in the streets, with his hands digging in his hoodie's pocket and tough stomps, Simon's face lit up by the light emanating from the street lamps. His body swings slightly to the weight of his steps, and he breathes heavily. 

After several minutes – more than he probably told you he'd take, he stops in front of a very familiar residence. You should know it wouldn't be any trouble for him to find your abuser's house. 

He took a familiar piece of cloth out of his pocket, it had been time since he last wore it. Now seemed like a good moment. A balaclava, full face mask – handmade, with a skull painted on. Simon hugs you and kisses your scars; Ghost wants revenge. 

[captainofthetidesbreath]

With Imogen telling Laudna that she knows that Ashton isn't a bad person because "I looked in there [in Ashton's thoughts]," I really feel like we (rhetorical we) gotta start unpacking how Imogen thinks that she can tell whether someone is good or bad based on what she finds inside their head.

"I've heard everything inside of you, Laudna. You are not a bad person." and "I've been trying my damndest to not look into all y'all's minds all the fucking time because it felt like an invasion of privacy. But I will if I have to! I'll look into your head every fucking day if I have to to find out [if Fresh Cut Grass has bad thoughts]." Those two are off the top of my head, but I feel like there's other examples but can't recall them.

It's been like discussed briefly by others before, but it remains a really wild measure that Imogen uses, where whether someone is a bad person is based on whatever is rolling around in their head.

To be clear: I am NOT saying that Ashton, Laudna, or Fresh Cut Grass ARE bad people; frankly, I'm personally not interested in discussing that kind of thing. The three of them are actually kinda incidental to this and just happen to be the people she's talking about. What I'm talking about here is that process by which Imogen assesses for herself whether someone is a bad person seems to rely heavily on "I looked inside their head, and here's what I found."

The logic of WHY Imogen relies so heavily on this as a measure is very clear. But it is a truly WILD measuring stick to use given the massive gap between one's thoughts and one's actions, and the gap between intentions and ramifications—and it says a lot about her character, her flaws, and the sorts of things she is trying to push through here and overcome narratively.

[wonwooslibrary]

svt as boyfriends ♡ joshua edition

member: joshua x reader genre: established relationship, bullet points word count: 738 summary: joshua's boyfriend things ;) warnings: mentions of food and i think that's it! let me know if i missed anything! author's note: y'all i am almost two whole days late with this oh god it keeps getting worse. i am...very tired haha i've been working a lot to build up some money while i'm not in school so yeah. i lowkey forgot about joshua/taehyung day until i opened twitter and saw people talking abt shua and i was like WAIT THAT IS TODAY anyway moral of the story i'm tired and need a break but here is the joshua fic we've all been waiting for! ily all and enjoy <3

He lowkey gives the vibes of like. The foreign exchange student bf with a relationship with a deadline 

He’s the silly bf!!! 

He’s also one of the members I see the least as a boyfriend so this is going to be interesting to write…

Quality Time 

Mans is a fan of everything fr !!! He absolutely loves spending time with you and your shared group of friends 

Loves doing silly little activities with you like making bracelets and painting 

He might just be the artsy bf we all want 

Joshua loves to go to different places with you like thrift stores, arcades, cafes, literally anything as long as he is with you <3

Loves the feeling of mixing his friend groups - the day you meet his friends aka his brothers he will be imploding with love for everyone 

Is the “i get bored easily” bf so y’all gotta be doing like ten different things at once 

Will totally ask you to dance or just close your eyes and be with him when a slow song comes on at a party / get together / playing music at home 

Words of Affirmation

You totally call him Joshy or Shua and he loves every minute of it bc he thinks it’s cute 

“Darling, would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow morning?” SCREECHING 

Believes the relationship revolves around pet names (ie. baby, sweetie, darling) he's adorable 

Is always proud of you and encouraging!!! 

Likes to leave little notes for you around the house. Maybe by your favorite drink in the fridge that reads, “I got these for you. stay hydrated, love” 

At the beginning of the relationship he was so formal with you, that it took him saying “I love you” for the first time to relax for five seconds LOL 

Physical Touch

Joshua loves handholding ‼️

This man always wants to have some sort of contact with you, whether that be holding hands, linking fingers or rubbing your back

Loves having you sit on his lap or lay your legs across his 

His go-to move when you are in public is linking your pinkies together (how cute :3) 

Leans on you when he laughs because he cannot sit still 

I feel like Joshua would like. move his fingers on your leg in the way of playing piano keys but with guitar if that makes sense? Like where the frets are? Idk

Is also the type to be scared of touching you in front of others until you explicitly tell him that it's okay

Acts of Service 

Loves doing the chores for you

“Hey, baby, I'm gonna fill my water bottle. Do you need me to fill yours?” 

Or even a, “hey i borrowed your car, but i filled the tank before bringing it back” we love a man who can afford to fill a vehicle’s tank at this point in time

Likes to bring you lunch once or twice a week --- he’ll make it himself and pack it in a cute little bag and everything 

Helps you in little ways like folding the laundry or helping you pick out outfits on those days that you struggle to do anything 

Is always there for you when literally anything happens. You need someone to help fix your car? He’s on the phone finding a shop. You can’t reach a high shelf or your back hurts too much to bend down to get something from a low cupboard? He’s right there ready to help

Gift Giving 

I touched on this a tiny bit earlier but !! handmade jewelry omg he would make matching bracelets for y’all or even a necklace or earrings for you if bracelets interfere with your job

Always buys little trinkets that remind him of you or your relationship 

“Hey I found this little glass rose decoration and it reminded me of the time i got you flowers when i asked you out the first time” 

HE WILL ALWAYS HAVE THE CUTE SHY SMILE WHEN HE GIVES YOU SOMETHING TOO as if you’ll ever tell him that you dislike something he got for you 

He would also love if you gave him gifts too like, “hey joshy I got this little container that can help you keep your beads organized” and he’s melt into a puddle of goo onto your living room floor 

Also gets something for you (usually your favorite snack or drink) when you’re especially sad or stressed out - like a super gift instead of his regular daily gifts or something 

Idk just know he’s really sweet and enjoys crafting

[ghostkingdoesstuff]

A friendly reminder I am not to be held accountable for the things I'm about to say. Percy Jackson Season 1 FINALLY (SPOILERS BUT THAT'S THE LEAST OF YOUR PROBLEMS)

The visceral noise I made eating popcorn as Luke said "look you didn't ask to be a half-blood" caused an earthquake in Alaska, I'm sorry I was facing northwest.

"Riposte" I'm sorry, no I'm sorry no-

Also, the background of the sword fighting scene was very pretty.

Poseidon showing up for his son!!! Letts gooooooo! THE WEIGHT OF THE OCEAN UPON YEE!!!

Right in the heel, it's gotta hurt!

Percy asked his uncle to please return his mom, wholesome family gold.

"He'll kill you." "I done to stop running from monsters." "You're gonna need all the luck you can get." The show gets why these two work. Friends before anything else.

Glory as a theme is something that I like that the show highlights more. But Grover is right. at least send an insurance email or something. A quick "on my way, please don't kill anyone"

Dropping the master bolt on some poor dudes desk, legendary.

Olympus is so fucking beutiful omg

I'm gonna cry if Luke and Percy are in the same scene as each other in this episode again. ILL DO IT! THAT'S A THREAT!

The dead silence, I'm shitting omg... yes I know what happens and?

Followed by "I didn't steal it! Neither did any of my friends" IM GONNA CRY! IM GONNA DO IT

The pin strip suit, the sky blue paisley tie, the presence, the voice, THE KING OF THE GODS PEOPLE

Lotta talk for someone so small and scary

POISIDEN GETTING BETWEEN HIS SON AND HIS BROTHER I'M GONNA THROW UP

POSIDEN AND ZEUS SPEAKING GREEK I'M GONNA PISS

THE SEA DOES NOT LIKE TO BE RESTRAINED (🎶BRING ON THE MONSTERS BRING ON THE REAL WORLD!!!🎶)

SALLY JACKSON TEACHING PERCY GREEK I'M GONNA-

"Of course we dream. why do you ask?" "Do you ever dream about mom?" ;-;

Thalia looking strudy as ever.

"Ready?" NO FUCK YOU NO

Another reminder I am not to held liable for anything I might say, you need only see how many times I've listened to "Last day of Summer" from The musical to understand how much I've thought of this moment in fictional time.

Confirmation that Luke was indeed what mattered most in the end? I'm gonna make myself cry shit-

Honestly, this Percy might be too smart for his own good. Bro's never gonna live this heartbreak down.

"You...I'm here to recruit." I- fucking- AHHHH

"OUR WAY OUT" RICK YOU BASTARD I HOPE YOU ROT IN ASPHODEL

"Stop saying "we"!" "It’s the word Zeus fears the most."

AND SHE HEARD EVERYTHING! Wasn't she supposed to be watching Clarrise? He'll, if Percy could figure it out, I'm sure Annabeth would. It's worth it to see that LOOK on Luke's face. I'm sorry. Feel the weight of your actions, man.

Miss my old friend the pit scorpion but I also like my new friend "the first scars we gave eachother"

He knows Luke won't hurt him physically, but the psychic damage hurts more and has lasting status de buffs.

"Just be a kid" that's it

"I'll find you" that's it

Promising to meet again next summer...Percy just you wait.

THE FAKE OUT OF A LIFETIME

"Grandpa" "don't call him that"

They are the ultimate mother son duo

BLUE PANCAKES!

Kinda hate that Sally didn't intentionally do a murder, or at least she has a lot more possible deniability now, but I hope she still makes a sweet sale on that sculpture!

And that's it! Fuck it's over what to do now... RE READING THE LIGHTING THEIF LIFE BLOG COMING SOON! As well I'll probably drop a summary of my thoughts on the whole season at some point soon! Happy Finally, y'all! Can't wait to see the discorse!

[miyuhpapayuh]

23. Would it be okay?

“Hey, sunshine!" Claire greets Stevie as she slides behind the counter to put her apron on. Another white rose to put in her pink vase by her register, for the day.

"Hey, love. How are you?"

"I'm great! I see you are, too!" She pokes her side.

"A lot has happened."

"Like..." Claire trails off, waiting for her to continue.

"I went to go see my family in Cali, Rod got my name tattooed, uhh.."

“Wait, what?" Claire's eyes widened in surprise, her mouth ajar. "He got your name tatted?? Where??"

"On his neck, girl." Stevie leans back on the counter with a dreamy look in her eyes. "It looks so good."

"Wow... a chain and a tattoo! What kind of honey do you got between them thighs, gurl?" 

Stevie covers her bosses mouth.

“You're just as reckless as he is!"

Claire swats her hand and cackles, her eyes flickering toward the door as a customer walks through.

"You're safe, for now. I'm taking you to lunch and we're gonna continue this little conversation." Stevie groans, before throwing herself into work.

Three hours and a stained apron later, Stevie finishes off her coffee cake and joins Claire in her brand new white Jeep.

"Ooh, this is new!" Stevie exclaims, sliding into the cheetah lined passenger seat.

"Bought it, last week, actually!" Claire cheeses, flicking the black ice air freshener, hanging on her mirror. She turns her car on and pulls out of the parking lot.

"Black people and black ice! Jesus!" Stevie face palms.

"I had to! You don't have one in your car??"

"No... is that bad?"

"Nah. If your car smells good, you don't need it."

"Rod's got one in his car. It's the new car scent one."

"Such a man," Claire snickers.

"Same thing I said!" She laughs, folding her hands in her lap. "So, where are we going to eat?"

"Melrose's. She's got the best cuban I've ever tasted." Claire dances in her seat.

"I've always wanted to taste one. They're really good?"

"Yes!" she pats Stevie's leg. "One thing you gotta learn about me is that food is my favorite— second to Bianca, of course."

"I'm learning! How's she, by the way?"

"She's great. She went back home to see her parents and left me all alone for a week. It's so boring."

"Oh, I'm sure you make good use of your time. It can't be that bad." Stevie laughs.

"Well, how did you feel when you went out of town to go see your folks? Didn't you go by yourself?"

"Rod actually went with me." Stevie says before pursing her lips.

"Y'all make me sick. Seriously."

"I'm sorry! But, come on... you don't have anything to occupy your time??"

"Not really!" Claire frowns, "it's just me and Biscuit. Little fucker’s just as sad as I am. Bianca and I take turns calling each other, but it's not the same. I mean, I'm glad she can go see them, but I miss her."

"You're making me sad, Claire. Hopefully the week goes by quickly for you." Claire sighs in response.

༺═──────────────────────────────═༻

"I'm stuffed." Stevie says, popping another potato chip in her mouth.

"You liked the sandwich, I see." Claire laughs.

"I did! Me and pickles have a love/hate relationship, but it was tolerable. Thanks for lunch, boo."

"Anytime! Now, back to the lot that has happened..." she trails off.

"Oh boy, I knew you were gonna do that," Stevie laughs.

"I went to see my family in Cali. I haven't been there since my grandma died. So, that was something that I had obviously been putting off, but it wasn't bad and I actually ended up having a good time. They fell in love with Rod, of course. Then, we came back and got back into the swing of classes, which hasn't been too bad, either— oh! I actually dropped a bunch of them and I get to graduate early, now!"

"Really?? I'm so happy for you! You've been talking about that forever!"

"I know! It's a huge weight lifted off my shoulders, I tell you. This bachelors degree better pay off!"

"It will! I feel it!" They laugh, before falling into a comfortable silence.

"Can I ask you a question?" Stevie asks.

"Sure, wassup?"

"You ever feel like you're moving really fast in your relationship, but it feels fine at the same time?"

"In the beginning, yeah. That's kinda normal."

"Are we still considered a “new couple”, though?"

"No," Claire laughs, “you guys are basically married, at this point."

"But, where's this coming from?" She asks.

"I don't know... it's just something I've been thinking about. We've been through a lot, since the beginning of our relationship and I just don't wanna jump the gun on anything, even though I feel like we've already done that."

"Well, you guys are different, like any couple, there's different circumstances and understandings. If both of you know what it is, it doesn't matter how anybody else views the pace of your relationship. Y'all are joined at the hip and that's perfectly fine."

"You're right.”

"I know." Claire winks.

Stevie balls up a napkin and tosses it at her head.

"First and last time I ever tell you that."

༺═──────────────────────────────═༻

Finally getting off work, Stevie drags herself upstairs and plops down on her own bed, for a change.

"Ugh, I missed my bed!" She sighs to herself, reaching over to turn her lamp on. She gets up and strips out of her work clothes, throwing on one of Rod's T-shirts, fitting her like a dress.

"Alright, let's see." She grabs her notebook off her nightstand and opens up to a clear page, letting her pen glide across.

Would it be okay?

If I stayed around.

If I got comfortable, in your presence.

Slip into your shadows,

Keep you safe.

Would it be okay?

If I loved you more than life.

If I screamed it to the heavens,

Even though God, herself, already knew?

Destiny. Fate.

I can't hide it.

 Would it be—

Folding the top corner, she yawns and closes her book and lays back down, knocking out in minutes.

An hour later, she's woken up by Rod gently massaging the balls of her feet. Rubbing her eyes, she lazily stares in his direction.

"Hey,"

"You look like a little kid, when you wake up," he chuckles, bending down to kiss her ankle.

"Am I cute kid?"

"Mhm. I hope our babies look just like you." He says, making her heart skips a beat.

"Here I am, hoping they'll look like you." She laughs. "How was your day?"

"Tiring as hell. My first night closing up went smooth, but it's so much I had to do, before I could get outta there. If it wasn't worth it, I'd fight somebody." He shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, baby. Here," she pulls her feet out of his grasp and pats the middle of the bed. "I'll rub your back."

Plopping face first into her pink pillow, he makes himself comfortable. She giggles at the sight, actually grabbing her disposable camera and snapping a picture.

"Whatchu gigglin' ‘bout, girl?" His muffled voice aids her laughter.

"Nothing.”

Mounting his lower back, she starts in the middle, working out a knot on the left side. "Pressure fine?"

"Mhm.”

"Okay... I wrote another piece, today."

"Yeah? Have you decided on which one you wanna perform, yet?" He asks.

"I might just do this one. It flowed so naturally."

"Can I read it?"

"No, it's a surprise!" She whines, pressing her thumb into the base of his neck.

"Mngh. I thought I was special, babygirl?"

"Nope. That's not gonna work on me, tonight. Your special ass better be front and center, when I get on that stage."

He laughs. "I told you, I wouldn't miss it for the world. When are you planning on doing it?"

"I'm not sure, yet. Soon, though."

He nods, fully relaxing under her touch, soon falling asleep. Smiling to herself, she slides off his back and snuggles into his side, burying her face in his neck.

༺═──────────────────────────────═༻

"You really like this dude, huh?" Rod asks Tyler.

"I really do! He's so sweet." Tyler blushes.

"He better be."

"Usually I wouldn't care, cause I don't keep them around, but, I wanna do something right, this time, you know?"

"Yeah, I feel you. As long as you're happy, that's all that matters. Let him know that I fight." He points at her, while backing up.

"Will do." She salutes him. "So, does that make you like big brother or something?"

"Hell yeah! You got me in your corner, shorty."

"Thanks," she gives a soft smile, "for everything, seriously."

"You're welcome, spud." He jogs upstairs, finding Stevie on her computer.

"Whatchu doin', babe?"

"Getting back to my guidance counselor. I need to know how many credits I have, to see how many I need to graduate in February."

"Ah. Aren't you glad you listened to Tyler? You get to get outta there, super early."

"I know! I didn't even know I could graduate this early in advance, but dropping those extra classes made it possible."

"See!, instead of us leaving you, we all get to graduate at the same time." He chuckles, kissing her cheek.

"Josh and Jay are in town tonight, so I'm gonna go hang out with them for a couple hours. I'll be back before–"

"Why're you giving yourself a curfew?" She turns around in her chair, staring up at him.

"Well, I don't wanna just waltz in here, super late, I feel like that's rude."

"Well, if it were a night where I was staying home, I'd agree with you, but I've got plans, too."

"Yeah? Where you headed?"

"Back to the poetry club, so I can talk to Suga and show her my work, see when I can set up a time to perform it." 

He kneels in front of her with a smile on his face.

"Alright, my talented ball of sunshine. Be safe. Call me if you've got any problems, okay?"

"Will do," a couple quick pecks turns into a juicy kiss, leaving her giggling against his lips.

"Okay, okay! Get out, before I cuff you to my bed." He grunts.

"Shit, let me call the fellas, right now." They both laugh and stand up.

"You're so foolish."

"You encourage it, baby. But seriously, have fun. I know you're gonna get your drink on— is Tyler going, too?"

"Yeah, she's got another date, tonight. I actually gotta help her pick out an outfit. She's kinda nervous."

"Yeah, we talked, earlier. She really likes ol' dude."

"He's such a sweetheart! If you met him, you'd like him, too."

"Yeah well, as long as she's happy, that's all that matters. You two have fun tonight."

"You guys, too. Tell your friends I said hello."

"Will do. I love you." He kisses her forehead, then her lips twice more.

"I love you, more."

The pair head out of the room; Rod downstairs and Stevie into Tyler's room, where she's frantically throwing an outfit together.

"Okay, what about this? Since it's cold as shit outside, I can wear my black jeans— you know, the ones that make my butt look fantastic?” Stevie nods. “Okay those, with either the v-cut bodysuit or the purple crop top and throw my oversized jacket over it."

"Do the oversized look, that's cute!"

"Okay. Chunky heels?"

"Definitely."

"Okay, I'm gonna get ready."

"Same. I'll meet you downstairs."

༺═──────────────────────────────═༻

Stepping back into Stevie's new favorite place, she heads straight for the bar, while Tyler heads towards a table where her new boo is waiting on her.

“Have fun!” She calls after her friend.

“You too!” She calls back.

"Hey, beautiful!" Suga greets her with a hug, sitting on the stool beside her.

"Hey, girl!"

"Oooh, is that it??” She points to the book that sits on the countertop.

"It is! You wanna read it??"

"Hell yeah!"

Stevie opens up to the page and sits it in front of Suga, nervously watching her eyes dance across the page.

"Oh, Stevie..." she says, pressing a hand to her chest.

"You hate it, don't you?" Stevie frowns.

"Wha— no!! This is beautiful!"

"Really? It's not too mushy or anything?"

"Babe, you worry too much. It's perfect. I wish I had a love like this poem!" Suga exclaims, making Stevie blushes.

"Okay, stop it!"

"Seriously! I've never been jealous of words, until now."

"My cheeks are gonna fall off my face, if you don't stop!"

"Okay, I quit. When do you wanna perform it??"

"Like, within the next week or so would be great! Ya know, before I lose the nerve."

"Okay! Let me go grab Carmen. She's the owner."

"Okay, cool! Thank you!”

As Stevie's waiting to meet the illustrious Carmen, her eyes trail over to Tyler in order to get a glimpse of how well her date is going, and her jaw hits the ground at what she sees.

Chris is lifted from his seat slightly to meet Tyler's lips in a lip lock that feels steamy, even at a distance.

"Alright, now," Stevie remarks quietly as she sips her tropical lemonade.

Her people watching continues for a few moments more, taking in the melanated group of lovers and friends alike.

"Hey, Stevie," Suga catches her attention, causing her to swivel in her seat in the direction of her voice, "this is Carmen."

She's greeted with a caramel-toned woman in her mid-20s, with a head full of shocking red curls and delicate features.

"Suga's told me so much about you! It's nice to finally meet you." Her voice is just as delicate.

"Likewise," she responds. "This is definitely one of my favorite places to be."

Her smile is warm, yet lights up the room. "I'm glad. I hear you're ready to get up on that stage. Now I hope you don't mind, but Suga let me take a glimpse at the piece you're thinking about performing, and girl it's dope! Made we wanna love on somebody."

Stevie blushes a deep crimson at the compliment, chuckling softly.

"Thanks. It's unfinished actually."

"Well sweetheart, whenever it's finished you're more than welcome to a spot on our night for new talent."

Stevie has butterflies of excitement and nervousness when she hears that.

"You're serious?" Stevie asks, just to make sure this isn't some cruel joke.

"As serious as serious can get, baby doll. You got something special."

Her heart soars and her cheeks flush once again, not used to the profuse amount of love for her craft.

"I can't thank you enough, Carmen. I won't let you two down," she says, addressing the two women.

"I know," Carmen winks. She quietly excuses herself to make her rounds around the place.

Stevie thanks Suga one more time, before she decides to not be a third wheel in Tyler's budding romance and take the train back home.

She walks the easy block and a half to the nearest station, taking in the full-bodied sounds of the city that have become music to her over the years.

Descending the concrete steps, she's greeted with a scent she'll probably never get used to, muttering all the money this damn city makes, and they can't scrub the piss smell outta here.

She looks left to right, and makes sure the coast is clear. She hops the turnstile like it's a hurdle, as if the heels she wears are tennis shoes.

Her timing is impeccable as the trusty red line subway car pulls up right as the toe of her shoe hits the yellow line.

Stepping on, she thanks the man upstairs that it's not crowded. Clutching onto the pole, she quietly hums as the train starts moving.

Feeling like she's being watched, she turns her head in the direction of the perpetrator, his coal black eyes scanning her body, making her feel like she needs a shower.

Her skin prickling up with anxiety as every bad memory, attached to a man, comes flooding back to her. A chill rushes up her spine as her brain screams run.

Her eyes become trained on the doors, as the insides of her hands clam up. Her curiosity leads her eyes back towards the man. The tattoo on his hand caused her mind to race.

Her heart starts beating triple time as the train continues to take its sweet time getting to its first stop.

She can feel his eyes on her as she keeps her gaze forward.

"It's okay... we'll get off soon." She whispers to herself.

Coming to a stop, she watches a couple of people get off, before coolly walking off behind them. She peers over her shoulder, watching him flash a smirk her way but stay on the train.

As the train whizzes away into the darkness, a rush of relief comes over her as she heads towards the street. Grabbing her phone out of her purse, she calls Rod.

He picks up on the first ring. "Hey, baby. You good?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just— I don't know. I had a moment, I guess." She walks into the nearest corner store.

"What do you mean, a moment?"

"I had the bright idea to take the train back home and there was this guy that kept staring at me. He looked so much like John and I don't know... I just freaked out, so I got off a helluva lot earlier than I should have."

"Baby, where are you?"

"Chuey's food mart. But, listen, you don't have to come and get me. I can call a cab or—"

“For what? It's almost ten o'clock. It's too dark for you to be catching cabs, when I can just come and get you."

"But, you're out with your boys!" She sighs as she heads down an aisle, "I feel like I'd be cutting your night short."

"We can meet up, whenever. Your safety is more important to me, right now." He assures her.

"Okay."

"Ima catch y'all later, aight?... yeah, gotta get my shorty to the crib... aight, baby girl. I'm on my way."

"Alright." She hangs up and walks around the spacious store, picking up a couple snacks along the way.

Ten minutes go by, and she's standing in front of the many candy choices, when the chimes go off near the front and the sound Rod's car keys fill her ears.

Passing by a couple of people, she spots the back of his head as he searches for her. Catching up to him, she tugs on his jacket.

He turns around and the worried crease in his forehead disappears as he pulls her into his chest, a heavy sigh leaving him.

"You're smushing my snacks!" She giggles as he rocks her side to side. "Rod!"

A soft laugh escapes her as he pulls away to hold her face in his hands.

"Seems like you missed me."

"Hell yeah! I was worried about you, girl."

"I didn't mean to worry you." She frowns.

"It's okay, baby. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm glad you're here." She links her finger in his jacket pocket. "Did you speed?"

"Maybe, a little. I ain't wanna waste no time– leave an opportunity for something bad to happen, ya know?"

"Yeah,” she sighs, “thanks for coming to get me. I appreciate you."

She stands on her tiptoes, staining his lips with her gloss.

"It's never a problem, babygirl." He grabs the snacks out of her hands to carry himself.

"Let's see what we got here," he announces from behind her as she walks down another aisle. "Salt and vinegar chips— ah, the chip of choice! We got some sno balls... some hostess cupcakes. Hm, you on your period?"

"You know," she abruptly turns around, making him bump into her, "I hate that you know me that well. And, no I've got like another week, I think."

"Well, it'd be dumb if I didn't pick on something, at this point," he chuckles. "And, you think?"

"Yeah... what's today?"

"The fifteenth. I only know that, ‘cause my milk expired today."

"I hope you threw it away."

"I will, when I get home."

She scoffs. "Anyway. It usually comes on the twentieth."

"Oh, okay. Oh yeah! What did they say about you performing?"

"I'm gonna perform on their night for new talent," a cheesy smile makes its way onto both of their faces.

"That's amazing! When??" He asks.

"Friday! Can you make it?"

"Hey, I told you that I would be there. I might have to tie Lee to his chair for a few hours," he says, making Stevie roll her eyes at his antics, "but, I'll be there."

༺═──────────────────────────────═༻

For the past fifteen minutes, Stevie has been pacing back and forth, rehearsing her poem.

To say she's nervous is definitely an understatement. If it wasn't a guarantee that Rod would be able to make it to her performance, she might've went insane.

"Okay, Nikki Giovanni, you ready?” Tyler walks into her room, fiddling with the cuffs on her black button-down.

Stevie scoffs at the name. "Don't give me that much credit. You think Nikki got this nervous, before her performances?"

"Duh. Everybody's susceptible to being nervous. You're gonna kill it, alright? Don't stress.” She assures her, rubbing her shoulder.

"Thanks. How do I look?"

"Like you wanna end up pregnant, by the end of the night." 

Stevie rolls her eyes, turning back to the mirror.

"What?? You asked." Tyler defends.

"Yes. Cause, a simple “you look good” wouldn't have sufficed."

"Well, that was my way of saying it. But, okay you look so damn good, friend!  Are you ready, now?" Tyler asks, smirking at the middle finger she gave her through the mirror.

"Yeah.” She sighs, reaching for her coat and bag. “Let's go, before I hide under my bed."

“Oh my god!” Tyler cackles, pushing her out of the room and down the steps.

Fifteen minutes later, Rod heads backstage, finding Stevie knocking back a shot of Brandy. As she fixes her skirt, he slides up behind her, waving the pink roses in her line of sight.

"For you, beautiful."

The gasp she lets out makes him laugh. She turns around and throws her arms around his neck.

"Thank you, baby! And, thank God, you're here. I've been going absolutely crazy for the last hour!"

"I thought you said you weren't nervous?" He sits the flowers on the table and rubs her shoulders.

"Well, I wasn't! Until I re-realized that I'd be speaking in front of a bunch of strangers and now I'm terrified. What if I mess up? What if they don't like it, you know? What if I vomit on stage, like I did when I was younger??" She spirals, wide-eyed.

"Hey, look at me." He cups her chin, her wandering orbs lining up with his. "You're gonna go out there and do amazing. You're not gonna mess up. It's normal to be nervous. It's your first time. But, you've got this. Your poetry is phenomenal. Anybody would be a fool to dislike it."

"You really mean that?" She asks.

"Every word."

A playful pout graces her lips as she kisses him.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, can I get something off my chest, right quick?" He asks with a heavy breath.

Her freshly waxed left brow raises.

"What?"

"You look so fucking good, vie.”

She blushes, instantly.

“Yeah?” Her voice came out small.

“Mm, smell good, too. Do a spin for me,” he steps away from her, watching her twirl.

Her curls bounced underneath her brown fur hat, skin shimmering in her matching off the shoulder top and pants, chunky heels to set the look off. Mascara, her signature lip and scent combo.

"Mm.. whatever you want, you can have it."

"Shut up!" She laughs as he pulls her back to him.

"I'm serious."

"Anything, huh?"

"Mhm., my car, my crib, money... last name, kids.." their lips naturally reunite in heat, squashing her nerves and almost making her forget about her whereabouts.

"Rod," her hands slide up his chest.

"Hm?"

"It's almost time for me to go on," she mumbles, giggling at his relentless pecks.

"Aight. you still nervous?"

"No, but I've gotta redo my lipstick, now." She shakes her head, wiping it off his mouth.

"My bad, shorty. I can't get enough, sometimes."

"Hey, Stevie!— oh, I'm sorry. I'll come back.

They turn to look at Suga in the doorway, before snickering.

"No, you're fine! Suga, this is my boyfriend, Rod. Rod, this is Suga."

"It's nice to meet you! I've heard nothing but wonderful things." They shake hands.

"Likewise. I appreciate you helpin' my girl out and getting her up on this stage."

"It's no problem. She's a super talented woman."

"That, she is." His gaze lingers on Stevie, making her swoon at the sight.

"So cute! I just came to tell you that we've got a couple minutes. You all set to go?"

"Yeah, let me fix my makeup, really quick." She rushes over towards her bag to reapply.

"Ima go grab my seat." he walks over and kisses the top of her head. "You're gonna do amazing."

"Thank you, baby." She smiles.

He mirrors her expression, before heading out to the front.

"Where'd you find him? He got any brothers?" Suga asks, sitting on the leather couch.

“That he does, let me find out you tryna get the hook up,” Stevie laughs, turning towards her once she's done.

“Hook me up, girl!” Suga joins in, before standing to her feet. “You ready?”

"I am! Let's do this."

༺═──────────────────────────────═༻

“Alright y'all, give it up for our next newcomer, Stevie!”

The applause makes Stevie smile as she emerges from behind the curtain and takes Suga's spot on the stage.

"Thanks," she nervously pushes a curl behind her ear. "I'm a little nervous, so bear with me. This piece is called Would it be okay? It's a personal piece of mine. I'm actually really excited to share it with y'all, so I hope y'all enjoy it." Her eyes set on Rod, sending a wink his way.

A soft light graces her physique as she calms herself and begins speaking.

Would it be okay?

If I stayed around.

If I got comfortable, in your presence.

Slip into your shadows,

Keep you safe.

Would it be okay?

If I loved you more than life.

If I screamed it to the heavens,

Even though God, herself, already knew?

Destiny. Fate.

I can't hide it.

Would it be okay?

If I was scared...

If I wanted you to hold me in your arms.

Shield me from my troubles.

Would it be okay?

If making love to you was my favorite pastime.

Your lips on mine.

Your breath on me.

Your touch.

Your taste.

Would it be okay?

If I wanted to live in your skin.

Would it be okay?

The whistles, snaps and cheering pulls her out of the locked gaze that her and Rod were locked in.

She gracefully bows and heads offstage, immediately getting pulled into a bear hug from Tyler and Suga.

"Can I just say.... wow!” Tyler claps.

"You did amazing!! I mean, I knew you had potential, but the way you commanded everybody's attention up there?? That was a sight to see." Suga praises.

"Thanks, you guys! It felt great to finally get up there. That was a rush!” She laughs.

"I think someone else enjoyed it, too." Rod clears his throat, making his way around the girls to the other side of Stevie, flowers back in hand.

"Again," he laughs, "these are for you. You did absolutely amazing." The twinkle in his eyes makes her melt.

"Thank you, baby." Grabbing the bouquet from him, she holds them close to her chest, blushing underneath his gaze.

"Ugh, this feels like high school love!” Tyler faux sobs, earning a collective sucking of the teeth from the pair.

"Go find your boyfriend and leave me alone, ty." Stevie says with a roll of the eyes.

"Ah, she's conquered her stage fright and now she's being feisty. You're on a roll, tonight." She winks.

"You two are a mess," Rod adds with a chuckle.

"Indeed. Come on, Tyler. You two can fight, later." Angel hooks their arms and leads them towards the other side of the club.

Rod leads Stevie towards their table, pulling out her chair for her. "What do you want to drink?"

"You know, cosmos have become my favorite, as of late." She cheeses.

"Comin' right up." He winks, heading towards the bar.

"Hey, pretty lady!" Chad stops at her table. "You did amazing!"

"Oh, thank you!"

"No problem. You got some serious talent."

"I appreciate that. It was nerve racking, getting up there, but I'm glad I finally did it."

"So, you gonna make this a regular thing? The crowd loved you."

"It's always been my dream!, it'd be kinda stupid if I didn't. I'm gonna talk to Carmen—"

"Consider it done. I'll run it by her and get back to you. Sound good?"

"Hell yeah!," she jumps in her seat, laughing.

"Aight, good! You know, if you start gettin' real good, we start paying you."

"Really??, that sounds amazing." Rod comes back to the table with drinks in hand, his gaze on Chad.

"Hey, man." Chad greets him.

"Wassup.," he gives a stiff nod.

"Ya girl is pressure, no denyin' it. I just came to congratulate her on her debut night."

"I appreciate y'all lettin' her shine, up there."

"A diamond shines everywhere she goes.," Stevie slightly chokes on her drink at his corniness, covering it up with a small laugh. "You two enjoy the rest of your night. I'll see you, soon." He pats her shoulder and walks away.

"What was y'all talking about?" His gaze shifts to her, chuckling at the little dance she's doing in her seat to faint music playing.

"He's gonna talk to Carmen and see if I can make this a regular thing., and if I start getting really good, they'll start paying me." She cheeses, sipping on her drink.

"Really?," his eyes light up, "that's amazing, baby." He rubs her knee.

"Isn't it? I could stop working at Claire's, even though, I love her so much, I could!"

"You could. You should tell her, I'm sure she'd be happy for you."

"Yeah, I'll tell her when I go in, tomorrow."

"What time you gotta be there?"

"Three."

He nods, bringing his drink up to his lips. Her eyes dance over his face as the knowing smirk comes out to play, once his glass returns to the table.

"I'm gonna put you in time out." She folds her arms on the table, leaning towards her drink.

"Why?"

"Because, you keep putting me out of commission," they share a laugh.

"You so fine, I can't help it." He wets his bottom lip, making her bite her own.

"Trouble, is what you are." She speaks lowly, shaking her head.

The hand that's on her knee starts to walk up her thigh, spreading out to cuff her flesh. "And somehow... you're at the center of it, every time."

༺═──────────────────────────────═༻

Heavy breathing can be heard throughout the dimly lit bedroom.

His lips sliding off hers, taut ass in her grip with every stroke grazing against her spot, driving her crazy.

"Oh shhhit!," her whines float through the air as he digs deeper, while nipping at her soft skin.

"Wanna live in my skin, huh?" He rasps in her ear.

"Yes, baby," she breathily whimpers.

Coming back into her line of view with his hand slowly gripping her neck, his lips hover over he own.

"Tell me you love me," he mumbles, tugging at her bottom lip.

"Unh...I love you," her jaw slacks as he picks up his pace, stimulating her spot with more pressure. Her hands grip his biceps, tightly.

"Say it, again."

"I love you, shit!.... that feels so good," she moans, her legs wrapping around his waist.

"Say it again, baby," he reaches his free hand in between them to rub her clit, her hand quickly gripping his wrist.

"I love you," she whimpers, staring into his eyes.

“Fuck, I love you vie.”

He leans up and speeds up, her hands find the back of his neck as her eyes roll back.

"You're gonna make me cum!"

"Mhm, cum on this dick."

A whine like no other leaves her lips as her eyes roll back, her walls tighten around him as her orgasm jolts through her, leaving her entire body thumping.

A chill rushes up his spine as he brings his thrusts to a halt.

"Fuck..” he moans, leaning down to kiss her lips as she comes down enough to reciprocate, her tongue finding his own.

He grunts and pulls away, flipping her over. With her ass high in the air, his palm quickly reddens her flesh and makes her leak down her thighs, double time.

"Look at that." His thumb circles her clit, her body seizing up at his touch. "Makin' a mess all over my sheets, girl." His mouth salivates at the sight of her nectar leaking down her leg.

"Mmf," she bites her lip, "don't tease me, baby..."

Lining back up with her sticky entrance, he pushes into her roughly, earning a heavy gasp from her.

"Oooh, shit!"

Picking up his tempo, he adds a roll of his hips, sending her clawing at his thigh with one hand and clawing at the sheets with the other.

"Oh shit, oh shit! Oh fuck!" Her thighs tremble as her orgasm creams onto his already soaked shaft.

"That's right," his grip tightens on her waist. "Soak that dick." 

Pulling out, he taps his dick against her clit before pushing back in, picking up where he left off.

"Unh! s-slow down," she grasps his thigh.

Doing just that, he wraps an arm around her, gripping her neck. Her hands find the sheets, gripping them up as he sensually wines his hips into her.

"Just like that.... oh, babyyy!"

Nose deep in her sweet-smelling hair, his moans become more frequent, turning her on. She begins to meet him halfway, adding more friction.

"Shit, vie... feel like a fucking dream." His free hand slaps her ass as he tries to regain control. Reaching back, she digs her nails into his hip.

"Fuck!— ugh! Unh! Just like that!"

Digging deeper, her eyes roll back and her moans increase in volume.

"Just like this?"

"—yes!”

Her thighs quiver as she tries to push him away, the pleasure becoming too much. Grabbing her wrists and binding them behind her back, he continues.

"Take it, then."

Her moans are muffled as her face hides in the cover. Eyes shut tightly as her body tightens up, a breathy curse leaving her lips.

"Shit..." he moans, pulling out slowly and pushing back in, their breathing falls in sync as the heat in the room rises.

Releasing her wrists, he pulls her up in his lap as she leans up on her hands. 

One hand in her curls and the other wrapped around her neck, his strokes start off curt. Her brows furrow as her moans fill his ears.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck," fingers gripping the sheets, her toes curl at the intensity of her pleasure.

"Say my name." He rasps.

"Rod," she yelps.

"Say it, again."

"Oh my God, Roderick!" She moans. "You're gonna make me c—cum!"

"Fuck... keep squeezin' me, baby."

"Oh my God... oh my God," her breath gets caught in her throat, while her climax rises to the surface. His own on the horizon with every stroke.

"Cum on this dick, baby.... I feel it.. give it to me," the gravel in his tone makes her soak his lap with a single squeal. His own orgasm forcing his body to fall slack on hers.

Flattening out underneath him, she laughs a bit, pushing her hair out of her face, while he repositions himself to not totally crush her, even though she didn't mind.

"Wanna know something?" He asks, intertwining their fingers, his beard tickling the bare skin of her shoulder as he places kisses there.

"What?"

"Makin' love to you is my favorite pastime, too." He replies with a goofy grin, making her giggle.

༺═──────────────────────────────═༻

Tiredly pulling the door open, Stevie heads in the back, stuffing her jacket in her locker. Taking her hair-tie off her wrist, she pulls her curls into a sloppy bun and heads back up front.

"Hey, girl," Rena waves, her and Alana studying her worn out expression.

She grabs her apron and glances at them.

"Hey, guys.”

"Are you alright?" Alana asks.

"Yeah, I'm just tired."

"Oh yeah! Your debut was last night. How'd it go?" Rena asks, excitedly.

"It went great.” Stevie smiles, leaning on the countertop.

"I was nervous as hell, but I made it through. Everybody really liked it. That also kinda made me kinda nervous, but also really happy.” She laughs.

"Aw, that's so great! I'm so happy for you!" Alana says.

"Yeah, that's amazing," Rena adds, "did you celebrate?"

"Yeah, and I probably shouldn't have."

"Why not?"

"Well, I've got a hangover and I was almost late." She sighs.

"Relax, sweet cheeks," Claire comes out of her office. "I know last night was super important to you. I wouldn't have tripped."

"Thanks, Claire."

"Of course. Did your rock head of a boyfriend like it?"

Stevie laughs. "He liked it more than anybody else."

"Oh, that's why ya ass was limpin' when you came in," Rena mumbles, before tending to a customer.

Stevie rolls her eyes. "Maybe you should get laid."

"Relax," Rena defends. "I was just playing around."

"Mm... Anyway," she turns back towards Claire.

"I've gotta talk to you, later. It's super important."

Claire excuses them, pulling them into her cozy office.

"So, how was your night?" She asks.

"It was great! I was so nervous, but the reassurance that I received mellowed me out. I got up on that stage and I knew, at that moment, that I belonged up there. It was amazing." Stevie gushes.

"That's incredible, babe. I gotta come and see you! I'm sad I missed the first one."

"That'd be great. I'd love for you to come!”

"Let me know when your next performance is and I'll put it on my calendar. Now, what's this dilemma you've got going on?"

"Well, Carmen said that if I start getting really good, they'll start paying me." She says, twiddling her fingers.

"Really?? Oh, that's guaranteed money, then! I'm sure you're amazing!"

"Well, I think I'm alright—but, yeah! That's huge, right? I get paid to do what I love."

"Anybody's dream, yes. I'm not seeing an issue here."

"If I start getting paid there.. I could start doing that more often and not.. have to work here anymore."

"Absolutely. I would hope that you wouldn't pass up an opportunity of a lifetime, to serve coffee with some friends."

The sarcasm in her voice makes Stevie laugh.

"Did you think I was gonna be upset?"

"Well, maybe upset isn't the word."

"Well, it's gonna suck not having you here, but I'd never keep you from doing what you love. That's not a friend."

"This is true. Well, nothing's official, yet. You still have me."

"And, I'm delighted!"

“Okay,” she breathes. “I feel better now.”

༺═──────────────────────────────═༻

Slinging her bag over her chair, Stevie turns her lamp on and sits down, opening up her poetry book.

Clicking her pen, she begins to write.

Love so amazing,

It outshines the moon.

Love so hot,

It burns brighter than the sun.

So intense,

It makes you blush.

So—

She smudges her writing as the ringing of her new house phone scares the mess out of her. Snatching the cordless phone off its base, without looking at the caller ID, she utters a slightly agitated hello.

"Ah, breaking the phone in with attitude, are we?" Rod's voice comes through.

"Well, you know, the ringer is extremely loud on this thing. Sorry for the attitude, I suppose."

"You suppose, huh? Guess we'll see about that, later."

"Whatever. How's work?" She asks, twirling a random strand of hair around her finger.

He laughs. "It's cool. I miss you."

"Aw, I miss you too. Want me to come by? I can bring you food, if you haven't eaten yet."

"I'd love that. Seeing your pretty face always brightens my mood." She blushes.

"Oh, stoppp," she drags out, closing her book and standing up from her chair.

"What do you want to eat?"

"Uh, how about pizza?"

"Alright. I'm gonna change and get the food, and I'll be there."

"Okay, babe. See you soon."

About thirty minutes later he hears the chime go off, Rod turns around to see Stevie walking through the door. He snickers at her wardrobe.

"You cold, babygirl?" He asks, gesturing towards his black sweatshirt swallowing her top half, while her black leggings cling to her bottom half.

"Yes!" Her teeth chatter as she sits the pizza box on the counter, rounding the counter to stuff her face into his chest. "It's windy as hell, out there."

"Aw," he coos, rubbing his warm hands over her back. "I'll turn the heat up."

"Thank you. Where do you want me to put this?" she points to the pizza box.

Moving away from her, he locks the door and hangs the sign, before grabbing the pizza from her.

"Follow me."

Following him into the second room on the right, she sits down at the black round table. He opens the box and pulls out a slice.

She follows suit, picking the pepperonis off and popping them in her mouth. He chuckles at the sight.

"One day, it's gonna land on your nose." He jokes. She rolls her eyes.

"Shut up. How's your day been?" He sits in the chair beside her, still munching on his food.

"It's actually been pretty dead in here, today. But, I'm not trippin. We still made sales for the day. How's your writing going?" He grabs a napkin and cleans his hands.

"Well, before you called me, I was in my zone," she laughs. "I think it'll be the next piece I perform."

"Look at you, all bright eyed and bushy tailed!" He teases, poking her cheek.

"You sound like an old man!" She jokes.

“Old?” He laughs, clutching his chest in faux hurt.

“Old as hell,” she nods.

"Alaina, I will throw you outta here." He chuckles.

"In the cold?? The disrespect."

"Yeah, well," he shrugs.

"Yeah, well," she mocks, throwing a balled up napkin at him.

"Keep it up." He stands from his chair, heading towards the soda machine, grabbing two cokes.

"Or what?"

"Ima let you find out."

༺═──────────────────────────────═༻

Plopping down on her bed, she stares at her clock, snorting as it reads 3:45 a.m.

"I'm gonna kill you." She groans, just as Rod waltzes into the room. Handing her a bottle of water, he sits down beside her.

"What did I do, besides what you asked me to?"

"I asked you to damn near break me in half?" She asks, an incredulous look on her face, making him crack up.

"Those weren't your exact words— but, yes, you were asking for it. Then, you didn't want me to stop."

She thanks God that the room is dark and the rosiness of her cheeks are concealed. "Anyway—"

"Mhm. That's what I thought."

"Anyways! Tyler and I are supposed to get our hair done tomorrow, because one of her cousins is getting married, and she asked Tyler at the last minute to be a damn bridesmaid— and for whatever reason, I have to be one, too."

"A wedding in the fall? Hm.. that's uh..”

"It's cold. That's the word you're looking for."

"What are the colors?"

"White and gold. The usual."

"You know what the dress looks like?"

"Not yet, no. I'll see it tomorrow."

"When's the wedding?"

"Saturday. I hope the wind doesn't blow us down."

"You're so dramatic, you know that?"

"I do. You're annoying— did you know that?" She smirks.

"I did," he joins in on the laughter.

"Good. Now, can we go to sleep?"

"Hey, we coulda been sleeping, a long time ago. But, someone wanted to ride around and smoke."

She scoffs and snatches her pullover off, along with her sweats and gets under the cover.

He laughs and follows suit, pulling her back into his chest. The warmth of his body made her turn in his hold and snuggle closer to him.

"Love you." She whispers.

"Love you too, you little brat."

Love so amazing,

It outshines the moon.

Love so hot,

It burns brighter than the sun.

So intense,

It makes you blush.

So genuine, 

It makes your heart flutter.

Who knew it could all feel like a fairytale?

Who knew it could be this sweet?

Who knew love, like this, existed?

Who knew...

@ghostfacekill-monger @thegifstories @harmshake @honeysunned @lemmewritesomeish @blowmymbackout @planetblaque @motheroffae @blackerthings @sheabuttahwrites @abeautifulmindexposed @honestpreference @mauvecherie-writes @megamindsecretlair @henneseyhoe @vonsbabymama2005 @consent-is-king @twistedcharismaaa @starcrossedxwriter

[bi-bi-bi-buckley]

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

THEY DID IT

ABC DID IT

The entire episode I thought Buck was jealous of Tommy and wanting more time with Eddie but NO!? NO NO AHHH

Ok so I'm really excited and have so much pent up excited energy which I'm going to try to channel into this post to get it out of my system. ABC did in 4 episodes what Fox couldn't in 6 seasons.

I- y'all I am not ok. Buck is such an important character to me. I see him in myself. And for him to be LGBT? For him to be BI?! (or at least like woman and men, a label hasn't been said in the show yet) Like me!? It's comforting. It's amazing.

I am literally shaking and I'm sure my boyfriend is regretting everything cause I've been screaming about it to him. I apologize for no clear thoughts or beautifully crafted post I'm just still jittery and just excited, confused, and happy all at once.

I also liked how it wasn't a sex scene. Because as I'm sure some or all of y'all know, sometimes media fetisizes LGBT+ people and relationships so for this scene to have the tension but for them to not fall into bed? 1. Shows Buck's growth and 2. Makes them a normal couple. The way they both looked at eacother was the sweetest thing. Now, I still like Buck and Eddie of course, but if that writers don't want to change Eddie's sexuality then I won't be too upset. I'm in awe. Truly. It was such a sweet moment.

Now if y'all let me put on my delulu glasses-

The tension in this scene (towards the end when Tommy and Buck were right in front of each other) was very reminiscent of the famous kitchen "go for the title" scene. And I'm just saying, like that's gotta mean something? Maybe? For it to be in the same kitchen. The same session. Just a different partner? Also I'm really hoping Tommy treats Buck well. Buck...has had some pretty bad luck romantically and he deserves someone to love him just as wholly as he loves them. Buck loves with all that he has and he deserves that love tenfold.

I hope that if the reason for this relationship is for Buck to realize his sexuality, then I hope that Tommy is 1. Cool and not an asshole when it's revealed 2. That Buck and Tommy get to keep their friendship. Because the feelings Buck has for him are real- he thinks he's cool! (Also the word cool was used a lot in this episode. Not like evidence or anything just something I noticed)

[cringefail-hermitry]

I've been wanting to make a post like this for a while now, and well, having just finished a crucial stage of my life, I think this is a good a time as any.

It's gonna be a long one

Like, *LONG* long

Like, I Am Going To Mention Every Single One Of My Mutuals By Name long (if you'd rather not be tagged in the future, do warn me)

First of all, the primary purpose of this post is as a letter of thanks for the wonderful months you Tumblr peeps have provided me this year. I am not hesitant to say joining the hellsite was the single best decision I have made in the last 12 months, heck, I think about 2/3rds of the friends I mantain regular contact with nowadays came from here. But this wouldn't be a long post if it was just a brief "thanks y'all for improving my life". I'm gonna get into detail. And I'm gonna be sappy about it. You can't stop me. You're not my mother. And not even my mother could stop me from posting this.

I would've said "I thought long and hard about who I'd start with", if there was any question about it. There isn't. @tearychildren, where do I even fucking begin. I can't really say anything too specific because if I begin I don't think I'll stop and half this post is gonna be about you, and this is already a very long post, so I'm just going to leave it at this, you already know well enough just how much you matter to me.

Going onwards, another of the early spots goes to who I believe was my first mutual, definitely one of the first people I followed, @chlorohexidine, a long-time mutual and recent good friend, our daily chats, however short, never cease to be highlights of my days, your art is really cute (love me some rounded shapes) and brainstorming ideas for your TTRPG campaigns is always fun (I really like your worldbuilding, too). It's only fair to mention your (and my, just needed to make this segue well) good friend @xsenpi, infodumping touhou to you both genuinely got me through that month, and Undertale 2: Revenge of The Robots with Rei and TC has been a blast so far.

@soundsofastar is another that warrants special mention for actually changing my brain chemistry and making me appreciate the local wildlife even more than usual (if we ever meet in person, WE ARE GOING ON A NICE LONG WALK TO LOOK AT BIRDS TOGETHER, WHEREVER IT IS WE ARE WHEN THAT HAPPENS, MARK MY WORDS). Your art also makes me feel things. Not many things make me feel stuff a lot. That is impressive. I should be in a good spot to finish reading the Illuminae Files within the next few days, so please do pester me about it, otherwise the piece of media that the next person I'll talk about recommended to me will consume all the time I'd read it in.

So, the next person I'll talk about, @northwest-cryptid, thanks for letting me use our DMs as my Mabinotepad, and for getting me into Mabinogi in the first place, you've been both the direct and the indirect cause of many good times, and I gotta be honest I kinda admire you a lil' bit (and if you know anything about how I talk, I am horrible at expressing vulnerability, admiration and these sorts of emotions without a bunch of euphemisms unless I'm doing this sort of tangent where I attempt to talk about myself in a more depersonalized way, so what that sentence there essentially means is "I admire you a lot and you are an inspiration").

Another pivotal figure in how this year shaped out is @ratlesshonret, creator of The Bird Nest, site of many good times, who has exposed me and many others to some wonderful media (I AM GOING TO FINISH POCKET MIRROR SOMETIME, MARK MY WORDS), reading through all the chats in the server is usually a blast, too. Your contributions to my life cannot be understated. Seriously, thanks.

The next great friend I'll mention is @transgender-lea-crosscode, we've started talking more only recently, but have already bonded a fair bit, I reckon, damn you're good at Blazblue. You've dared to make me good at the game and for that, I commend you. You should say words about Zeroranger in my general direction sometime, I'd be happy to hear/read them.

Now for those mutuals that I don't really speak to, but are responsible for like, 75% of my total notes, like, everyone is more than welcome to jump into my DMs and start talking about anything whenever, but y'all specifically are folk I'd have started talking with regularly ages ago if I knew what to talk about. @hoshinoreika2004, @ward-leon, @edenplumreal, @tabnk2, @tapok-eve , @boofbv and @sorcerousbrick, thanks for all the lil' dopamine hits.

Shoutouts to @wretchedbirdthing for being normal about that bird, you're a blast to see on my dash and I wish you luck snapping those collarbones in twain to hear those gay little squawks.

@freiflies and @ottisbuns, alongside Tapok, Vic and Honret, y'all bring life into The Bird Nest, and although I haven't really shown up much there recently, I still read most of everything, the words are cool, keep up the good work!

@genericgirl420 and @mikusays-transrights, you two are the mutuals that suffer the least with The Distances, so let's do this in a more, well, local fashion. É genuinamente bom ver que a comunidade brasileira do tumblr está ativa e saudável, aumenta minhas esperanças de encontrar outras criaturinhas desse site maligno pelas ruas, sua presença, por si só, já melhora meus ânimos, por isso, agradeço profundamente.

Ok back to speaking in simplified Old German. This next section goes out to @lemocoffe and @teacup-of-doom, both of whom I haven't really interacted much, but what little there was was quite great, this is, in fact, an invite to do more of the interact-y thing. Y'all are cool.

Another shoutout to a frequent view on my dash, @lobotomise-me-please, whose "Boobs Girl Music" post still has 10k notes to me, I'll get back to mass reblogging it someday (if y'all wanna help, check out @boobsgirlmusic for the post, that's my Boobs Girl Music sideblog where I reblog Boobs Girl Music)

@aurora-veil, @limbuscompanyyuri and @thevanishedpeople-intothenight are up next, some of my first mutuals, y'all post good. And have been doing so consistently. For the past like, 9 months or so. That's impressive.

@meltingadoration, @holyitsquiverrflynn and @jestressofnihil, my more recent moots, there hasn't been much time to do the friendship-building and knowing each other thing, but all that means is that there's still many opportunities for that, which is cool.

Last but not least, the mutuals who I haven't quite gotten to know as well, but I'm inviting to chat anytime, @readysetgargoyle, @atlasmothss, @meeresengel, @flesh-borne, @b-kut, @aureatecenotaph, @risingdragonblade, @agender-witchery (your posts helped me immensely in figuring out gender, thanks for that) and @lich-of-lcorp. Y'all are cool, we should talk more.

And one last section for all those who I've been in touch with but aren't mutuals with, for any and all reasons (I do tend to reblog very, well, erratically), y'all deserve to be on this list, but I just didn't wanna bother you too much (I do have words of thanks to say though, if you want them, just ask).

This post is still too short to express how thankful I am for y'all existing. I don't think text could ever do it justice.

[glass--beach]

from what i've read from y'all plastic death seems to be an intentionally opaque album with a lot of layers and a lot to say and so much thought put into all the choices. i think that's so cool! but i just feel so ill equipped to parse most/any of it. i know you've mentioned there being queer themes but i feel like my queerness is getting me no closer to ~getting it~. also i'm just tired. how do i enjoy and appreciate this album and, like, music in general when i'm a fucking idiot?

if it feels like work for you you gotta chill… go listen to some punk or something direct, like, understanding music can be difficult but it should be fun as well. i’m not trying to frustrate people, and if it’s not connecting that’s all ok. maybe it will later. maybe something else will connect more. you’re not an idiot, music is not about showing how smart you are… and while peeling the layers can be rewarding there is no “answer” to find, it’s more what you can glean about yourself (and about me i suppose). also, queer experience is not universal, there are a multiplicity of queer experiences that not all of us relate to. god knows there’s a ton of queer music out there that does not speak to me remotely. the record is incredibly autobiographical and my queer experience is very weird and i am a huge nerd.

posted about it much elsewhere but this review has been the best deconstruction of the record so far, getting both into the ideas of power & the queer themes. might be a good jumping off point for unlocking it if you haven’t seen it:

[elvisabutler]

spark ( chapter two: prayer )

fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( fameless big daddy electrician/handyman ) x female original character word count: 10570ish so just shy of 11k this time. warnings: talk of children. a bit of negative self talk. infidelity in some form. elvis in glasses. religion playing an at least faintly important part. use of a washcloth in inventive ways. faint naivety regarding come and precome and pleasurable parts of sex, i suppose. fingering. implied/referenced masturbation ( m and f ). pining. talk of female reproductive issues. author’s note: so before you read anything involving this. i need you all to either go into this chapter blind other than my note about female reproductive issues or i need you to scroll all the way down to the bottom of this past the tag list for a bit of an explanation for that warning. i'm fine either way but i didn't want to spoil it in the warnings considering i left what happened fairly nebulous. all that being said hi y'all, welcome to the second chapter of spark! there is not a lot i can say other than telling you all i am so very thankful for every single one of you who read it and especially those of you who left comments in the notes or reblogged because hearing what feelings i invoked or what i did to y'all was a highlight and truly makes me want to interact with all of you more and makes me just want to hear more from all of you. this chapter and the next are a doozy but this one specifically has the nearly 6k bath scene as i've called it so you're in for a treat. special thank you to my southern gothic/southern sticky romance soulmate @precious-little-scoundrel because y'all know this wouldn't exist without her little whispers. additional thanks to my discord wives @ab4eva and @butlersxbirdy, my princess and my peach y'all know how much hearing y'all scream about my snippets made me know i was heading in the right direction. @blurredcolour thank you for also reassuring me that the one bit i showed you worked and wasn't just completely a mess. and last but not least @powerofelvis and @prompted-wordsmith thank you both for the edit job and smitty specifically for a few choice lines. i still am never gonna not laugh about you trying to sneak weepy in there though. and now before this author's not gets much longer, i present the second chapter of spark, titled prayer.

It's so quiet in the room. It's too quiet in the kitchen. It's too quiet even as Lilly hears Elvis's deep breaths against her back, hears her own softer breaths mixed with something that sounds almost like a whimper—a soft cry of elation with every other breath and shift of her body against his. Her vagina—her pussy—oh, she doesn't know what to call it now—aches in a way she's never felt before, not even when her husband took her for the first time in their bed. It aches but it doesn't hurt, it burns but in the way her legs burned after she would go running with Melly or how her arms burned after lifting up a basket of Nathan's clothes. Her—what had Elvis called it?—her clit, her button throbs as she feels his soft cock brush up against it as he moves forward just a bit, causing a noise that sounds so obscene Lilly can't help the way her cheeks darken even as another noise leaves her. Another whimper, this time lower in pitch, a keen leaves her mouth as Elvis stills his attempt to separate them.

"Lilly, darlin' I gotta—you gotta let me let ya down. Ya leg's startin' to hurt, ain't it?" Elvis murmurs, his hand moving down her flank, watching how her body starts to shiver, their shared sweat starting to cool on her body as the fan–the fan he just fixed whirrs above them. "Don't… it's gonna start hurtin' the more we stay here, darlin'. Let—" His hand moves to her thigh, feels how it's so sticky and slick with God knows what fluid, his or hers or both, and he's not sure how he's going to take his hand off of her if it starts to stick. Her shivers are starting to strengthen, be it from nervousness or the cool air or a combination and Elvis can't help the way a singular one flows through him, causing him to tighten his hold on her thigh and bury his face against her shoulder, a groan leaving his lips as he feels her clench at it. "It's—come on, Lilly, I gotcha, let me help ya."

It's those words, that mild parroting of words he had just whispered against the shell of her ear not even 15 minutes ago that has her head falling forward just a little, has her body going lax completely, a rag doll for him to maneuver how he sees fit. She doesn't trust herself to help him, doesn't trust the thoughts in her head that tell her to make him keep her this way, to keep him inside of her and keep her filled and aching all at once. Doesn't trust the traitorous thought that tells her Nathan would have never done this, would never be this gentle and calming with her. She'd already be standing on shaky legs with him tucking himself in his pants before telling her that was good. Elvis's arm catches her, holds her tight against him still as he helps her pull her leg down off the counter even as she hears that noise again that—squelch of her arousal and the sheer amount of come he had released in her. If this is how he sounded inside of her, what would happen when he pulled out of her? What would happen as he left her stretched and satisfied? Would—perhaps some would take. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. 

"Lil." His whisper is gentle, almost as if he's scared she'll bolt. "You hold onto me. Gonna get outta ya now. Gonna pull out of ya."

Her arm and her hand grip his own tightly, her shivers increasing as she feels Elvis start to pull out. The more he inches out bit by bit the more empty she feels, the more she feels as if there's a wound there that won't heal caused by him leaving. It's never felt like this with Nathan and she knows, she knows so deep in her bones and soul that should worry her. But her mind, her body, her everything has narrowed down to her and Elvis as he finally breaks free of her vagina and she feels a wetness like she's never felt before slide down her legs. Unbidden and unrestrained, a sob is wrenched from her throat as she's set down, her feet finally touching the floor once more. A sudden shift back to reality she wasn't prepared for.

Elvis's arm tightens around her even as her shivers worsen and as he feels and hears the sob that comes from her. He doesn't think he hurt her—not physically, at least—but he can't… he can't check her like this. Not when he looks down at her legs and sees his release sliding down her leg.

A realization hits him in that exact moment as his arm tightens around where—where a child would grow if any of his release caught. Where their child would grow if it caught. He hadn't worn protection. He allowed himself to enter her bare and come not once, but twice. Right in this very moment he could be sealing both of their fates. Her to have the child of a man who is not her husband and him—him, to see another man raise his child. To see his child grow up through pictures instead of being there for every waking moment. His thoughts are interrupted by another of Lilly's sobs and he shakes his head. She–she needs a bath, he can't let Nathan come home and see her like this. Even if he had been neglecting her, leaving her to wilt and leaving her to be watered and in the worst of cases fertilized by another man, Elvis couldn't be sure of his reaction to seeing the proof leaking out of his wife.

The fan creaks as it spins, unused to spinning after the break it had been given from being broken. Elvis's brain settles on the noise even as the air circulating causes even his body to let out a shiver. His own natural heat feels like it isn't enough in this one moment, as if it's too busy trying to keep Lilly warm to remember to keep him fully warm and yet he thinks he can handle it. It's nothing compared to winter in France. Nothing compared to the bite of the cold against his skin then. And yet—and yet it cuts far more to the bone, through his muscles and fat and everything that should protect him. Straight to the heart of him.

His arm finally falls from around Lilly’s waist as she moves to stand on her own, her legs a little shaky like a newborn deer. He hastily tucks himself back into his jumpsuit—she can't see what he put inside her, can't see his uncut cock even if it brought her pleasure he wonders if she's never had before. When she finally looks at him he has to stop himself from pulling her into his arms to kiss her. She looks… she looks like an angel and he's corrupted her like a devil. He's touched something that might not have been pure and innocent but was as close as he’s seen in such a long time and sullied it. Touched it with hands that have seen war and have seen death and threatened to cause death even in peacetime. What sort of person did that, what sort of man who believes in God with all his being now would do this to another man’s wife? Breaking not one, but two sins, and for what? To try and fix something that it isn’t his place to fix, that will never be his place to fix? To try and fix something only to potentially cause more things to break inside and out. He hopes she doesn’t see how his hand clenches into a fist, hopes she doesn’t see how he can’t look her in the eye right at this moment. He hopes—he hopes—he hopes she can forgive him, he hopes God can forgive him. 

Lilly can’t help the way her legs shake slightly and how her body trembles just a little bit. She’s not cold, not in a way that would cause this much shivering and yet here she was acting as if she had been dunked in a bath filled with cold water and shoved into a Yankee winter. Elvis was—is warm in a way she knows would help. Or at least she feels as if it would help because it would just be an extension of taking care of her, wouldn’t it? It would be him continuing the duty he’s given himself despite not… not being the man who promised to love and to hold and to take care of her in every conceivable way. He is just a man. He is just a man who she has grown quite fond of but a man nonetheless. A man who is not her husband and yet—no, this was just both of them being tempted and falling for temptation. In her mind, she thinks of never having Elvis speak to her again, thinks of a world where this act has ruined their relationship. No, their friendship, and she bites her lip to keep from crying out in anguish. He had been such good company. He is such good company and to lose that would have her all alone once again with nothing to show for it except… perhaps. Perhaps his release could catch inside her. Perhaps it could catch and form a child, their child and she would have someone to be with. She would have the child she longed for to spend her days doting on and mothering. She would have her company and she could be so much less angry—despondent over her friends and she could enjoy Melly’s pregnancy and any other ones that would come after because she’d at least have her own child. Too preoccupied with her thoughts, she nearly misses Elvis speaking to her and grabbing ahold of her hand. 

“Lil darlin’, ya shakin’ like a leaf. Ya got a robe or somethin’ in that bedroom of yourn?” He asks all while walking them ever so slowly to the bathroom near the other bedroom. It has a bathtub, that much he knows from using it but he knows it’s likely not anything compared to the one in the main bathroom adjacent to her bedroom. Lilly can only nod as an answer. “Ya good to go grab it? Don’t wanna—it’s not my place to see ya bedroom.”

He’s right and she knows he is but a part of her, the part of her that’s clinging onto his hand for dear life and doesn’t trust her legs to carry her into the bedroom and back to him shakes her head. “I’m—I don’t—walk me to it?”

“Lilly,” he starts before he looks up and sees her face pleading with him, begging silently in almost the same way it was up against the sink and he stops himself before nodding. “Just keep holdin’ my hand. I’ll walk wit’ ya.”

Between the walls and Elvis’s hand, Lilly’s steps are a little more certain by the time she makes it to the doorway of her bedroom where just on the inside there’s a hook that has her robe. She creaks the door open just slightly to grab it before pulling it on. It smells faintly of Nathan’s cologne and she can’t help but crinkle her nose in distaste, wishing it smelt different. The walk over to the other bathroom is just as slow and just as measured but the moment they reach it, Elvis moves to set her on the toilet after shutting the lid. His knees crack audibly as he gets down on the floor with a groan. Lilly winces as she hears the water turn on. “Warmer than you think I should have it.” 

He hadn’t asked what temperature she wanted the water but she figured it was best to tell him ahead of time, just in case he thought she needed it only lukewarm. His response is a chuckle before he turns the hot knob just a bit more. 

Her mind wanders as she sits there feeling more of his release sticking to her leg. Her mind wanders as she looks at Elvis in his jumpsuit still half open but done up so she can’t see what was between his legs, what had given her such pleasure that her vagina clenches 

involuntarily at the memory. Clenches at the memory of how full it felt, how it felt like it was catching, how it felt different than Nathan’s penis. Surely—oh surely with how full she feels even now with his release inside her it would take. It would catch and take and her belly would swell with new life. Her child would grow inside her and kick and roll and make her so happy even as she pushed them out, painful as everyone had told her it was. Her child would look like her if it was a daughter or perhaps a healthy mix of her and Elvis if it was a boy. Her breath catches at the image and she finds herself leaning against the toilet and clutching her hands to her stomach with her eyes shut. Her eyes shut so that the lord could hear her prayer because she’s only focusing on Him and the words she was praying up into the heavens. Please, Lord, please let it catch. Bless me with just this one baby.

Elvis looks over at Lilly over the rims of his glasses and is struck by how she looks so serene in the moment. How her robe covers her and how her head is tilted up as if she’s praying for something. His eyes drift down and notice her hands on her belly. Her hands that seem small compared to his on her belly and briefly, in a flash he berates himself for later, he pictures her growing round with his baby after the release he's just left in her has taken root. Pictures her blossoming and blooming right before his eyes as she thanks him with his favorite dinner with their child rolling inside of her under an apron. The word please leaves her lips, though, and it shatters that image quicker than anything else. She is married to an idiotic child, yes, but he is still her husband and is still a strapping young man. Perhaps still more suited for her than him. More suited to give her those children to help her bloom. He has to shut his eyes and pray for forgiveness and for God to dissolve his come before it reaches those parts of her that can bear fruit. She’s pleading with God that it doesn’t take—that they aren’t caught with their indiscretion and his mind is being selfish with the desires it has for her.

It doesn’t take long for the tub to fill and Elvis turns off the water before it gets to be too much. He can’t look at Lilly, hasn’t looked at her since he heard the word please fall from her lips and yet he knows he has to. He knows to help her into the bathtub he has to but he stares at the water, watching it ripple just a little until he hears Lilly’s voice. 

“Are you—? You can… can you stay?” Her skin flushes at her own question, as if it’s the worst possible thing for her to say, as if it’s mortifying to have it leave her lips. He is not her husband. He is, at best, a new friend—and she wants him to see her completely bare. “You don’t—”

Elvis cuts off her words with a shake of his head. “I’ll stay for ya. Since ya want me to.” He pauses, his eyes finally looking at her: specifically looking at her legs where his release is still sliding down onto the floor of the bathroom. Had he honestly come that much? “Ya—e need to—I came in ya, Mrs. H—Lilly. It’s gonna need to be washed outta ya,” his hand twitches as his eyes drift to her stomach and he has to stop himself from placing his hand on it with his next words. “Don’t want ya bein’... Don’t wanna cause ya any issues.”

Don’t want to have my child growin’ inside of ya, is what he means, Lilly thinks. Her traitorous mind wants to be that mean woman Nathan’s accused of her of being and spit that she wants to swell with his baby. She wants to grow round with his baby because she wants a baby and Nathan won’t give her one. She wants a child to love and dote on and to cherish. She bites her tongue though, because it’s not right to say it, it’s not proper to admit she might do anything for a baby. Instead she nods and moves to take off the robe, motioning for Elvis to help her with the rest of her clothes as she stands up. Ever the gentleman, he obliges, and Lilly can’t help the goosebumps and shivers that dot her in his hands’ wake as his fingertips glide across her skin. Her body hunches over just slightly to protect her modesty as if he hadn’t just had her against her kitchen sink not once, but twice. Elvis frowns slightly when he sees this, the frown only deepening as she moves to step into the tub on her own. It doesn’t take him but a second to scoop her into his arms.

Lilly squeaks slightly at the unexpected touch before she leans against him, her hand moving to play with his chest hair until he sets her down softly into the tub. A whine escapes her lips as her vagina hits the water, the temperature difference reminding her of their actions. A moment passes before Elvis opens his mouth to ask something and Lilly tilts her head to the cabinet above the toilet. “Middle shelf.”

A nod is his only response to her direction until she hears the crack of his knees signaling how he’s back down on the ground. Her eyes haven’t left the water, watching how there’s little bits of white, stringy and almost clear swirling around the water. It was all going to waste. It was all going to be going down the drain and she was going to remain barren, a woman with no fruit of her loins to call her own when there should be no reason for that. Elvis eyes her before setting the washcloth in the water and humming, his hand moving to touch her shoulder, a strangely domestic touch that she doesn’t shy away from.

“There’s so much of it.” Lilly whispers absentmindedly, her head tilting just so as Elvis hums and chuckles slightly because she’s not wrong. 

“It’s just—that’s my—that’s what I produce before I actually release inside ya. Hell, I think most of it might be that ‘cause I ain’t ever produced this much.” A truth if he’s honest with himself, even in his younger days he doesn’t remember this much being in a condom and yet he had filled her with so much it’s just leaking out of her. He had filled her like he was her husband and they were trying for a child. He had done the unthinkable and yet there’s a small part of him that wonders how much of his release is inside of her. That small part has his cock twitching just slightly against his leg, ready to give her more if she asks, to fill her up and replace what’s being lost in the water. He shakes his head to clear it, to direct the blood flow back to his thinking self and not the desirous snake in his pants.

“This ain’t the part we gotta worry ‘bout anyway. It’s the thicker stuff,” he points to a small bit that’s floating from her vagina as he speaks, “like that right there that we gotta worry ‘bout. But the rest? Ya see how it's slidin’ right out? We don't gotta worry bout those parts.”

Lilly has to stop herself from perking up at that knowledge. That there’s more where this came from and that this? She can lose as much of this as she is right now while still perhaps having his seed catch. This was just the initial bit, the majority of it is still inside of her and she clenches, tightens her vagina even as it feels to be an insurmountable task as it throbs and pulses from the effort. She can't tilt her hips up like her mother had told her but later, perhaps, later she could lay in bed and tilt her hips to help whatever is left behind reach where it needs to be. 

Elvis can't put it off any longer as he stares at rippling water, he needs to help this along, other than those small bits not much of his release is coloring the water. If too much stayed within her—her body would change soon, her body would change and it would be all his fault. He would be responsible for her blooming and blossoming but with a child that wouldn't be, couldn't be taken care of the way he'd want them to. He leans closer to Lilly and finds his hand holding the washcloth sliding up her leg. 

"Don't—I gotcha Lilly. Gonna help clean ya out, alright? Gonna be as gentle as I can." He waits to see her acknowledgement of a nod before he finally moves his hand up to between her legs, the heel of his hand against her mound and his hand covering everything else.

Her body—her vagina feels as if he's shocked her, as if there's a live wire from his hand to her. A gasp leaves her lips even as she inadvertently grinds down on his hand, chasing a feeling she can't quite put her finger on. It’s almost instinctual the way she reacts, the way her eyes shut as she hisses, the pressure too much while at the same time too little. At her hiss Elvis pulls back his hand as if it’s been burned. It’s not his job to take care of her, it’s not his job to make sure she’s alright after their intercourse against the sink and yet he doesn’t think he could live with himself if he hurt her. He knows how to take care of a woman after sex and he’d be damned if he didn’t treat Lilly with all the respect—and love, his mind traitorously whispers—she deserves.

“Lil, ya alright? Did I…” he starts before his words are cut off with a violent shake of her head. Words are failing her and his eyes search her face for a clue as if that will explain her actions and finds it in the way she shifts in the bath slightly. “Ya sensitive down there?” 

Lilly nods and breathes slowly through her nose. “I think so? It’s—It feels like it’s throbbing, Mr. Pre—Elvis.” 

In the back of his mind he knows that means she took him well and that he pleasured her thoroughly. It means that her body is overwhelmed with the sensation. It means that it’ll be like that for days to come. A small, sick bit of joy shoots through him at the thought of her aching for him and his stomach roils as soon as the thought comes to him. He would be no better than her husband who ignores her if he took pleasure in the idea. If he took pleasure in knowing he left her aching for him while she is married to her husband. 

His words are measured when he speaks, a low murmur as he leans closer, taking the washcloth back in his hands. “Ya ain’t—I’m a lil bigger than most, should have prepped ya better. Jus’. We both got a lil’ overwhelmed, didn’t we? ‘S’alright, ‘m gonna make it better, darlin’. Gonna be gentle as I can. Gonna help ya get all this out of ya. Keep ya from having my baby.”

Lilly’s face falls at his words even though he doesn’t notice, too preoccupied with shifting his focus downward to her vagina. Her breath is slow and measured as she watches him, trying to give this a clinical air, trying to make her body realize there’s nothing arousing about this. This is him just trying to clean his release out of her to keep from being tied to her in some way permanent. Her hand drifts to her belly as she curls into him, her head leaning onto his shoulder. He’s methodical with the outside of her and using the cloth he tries to reach between her folds, tries to open her up only to feel as she tenses just that little bit harder. Forcing her open isn’t an option, not one he wants to seriously consider, at least, and he pauses. His fingers through the rough washcloth threaten to ignite another fire low in her belly as they rub slightly against her skin—at least, if the way she whimpers softly is any indication. Perhaps if he brushed against her clit, perhaps that could open her up. It’s helped in other times when he’s wanted to pleasure another woman. His thumb is already near it and without dwelling on his thought his thumb swipes against it, the wash cloth adding friction that has her unclenching faster than he thought was possible, the shock of it ricocheting through her system. A gasp escapes her lips. A gasp that sounds like his name. He refuses to dwell on what that means as he brushes his thumb against her clit once more. 

“Elvis,” she whimpers his name as his thumb swipes a third and a fourth time and she can feel her vagina clenching and unclenching at the feeling, at the sensation as finally she relaxes fully, allowing his fingers to enter her without a question. “Sensitive.” 

Her mind is narrowing to single words, the swirl of arousal curling tighter and tighter in her abdomen with each brush of his thumb and each press of his fingers inside of her. The washcloth shouldn’t help the feeling, it shouldn’t make her eyes want to roll in the back of her head from the friction and the slight roughness. The splashes of his arm and hand hitting the water as his fingers move in and out of her ground her and yet have her floating away. Her brain registers him speaking through her whimpers of pleasure. Pleasure that she doesn’t know what to—to do with, having been denied it for so long. 

“I know it’s a lot but gotta be thorough, Lilly. Gotta make sure it's all out,” he whispers softly to her, his fingers never stopping their task. “That's it, unclench for me, Lil darlin. Let—ya gotta help me, we gotta make sure there isn't anything left up there."

Faintly she can hear him and feel herself nodding, too busy trying not to rock against his fingers. That’s not what he’s doing this for, he’s trying to prevent—he’s trying to prevent a child. He’s trying to protect her marriage and yet her body wants to move on instinct. She wants to be beholden to her instincts just this once. Just this once she wants to have pleasure and happiness she doesn’t have to beg and plead for. It’s nice, this haze that overwhelms her senses, and she can’t truly recall the cold, distant figure of her husband leaving each and every day for work without so much as a kiss on the cheek as it has been recently. Instead she is nestled into the crook of Mr. Presley’s neck, lips tasting of the salt of his sweat. She wants to feel like he made her feel against the sink. Her body cants itself just so in order to earn another swipe of his thumb and she feels herself dangling on the precipice of something—of her orgasm, maybe? Was she about to find release on his fingers as he cleaned her body out with a washcloth? As he cleaned his release so a child didn’t form inside her, giving away their actions from tonight? A miniscule part of her feels as if she ought to be mortified but it doesn’t drown out her sighs and whines as she feels his fingers curl just so—trying to make sure she’s clean. It doesn’t drown out how her hips move once in another attempt to grind before he puts his hand on the back of her neck. A comforting gesture, yes, but when paired with his next words seals her fate.

“Take what ya need right now. Jus' takin’ care of ya. It’ll help get more outta ya. That’s it, Lil darlin, Elvis’s gotcha.”

A keen, high pitched and pained, leaves her mouth as she feels herself fluttering around—no, clenching around—his fingers before becoming practically boneless against him, the aftershocks from the orgasm causing a new round of shivers and goosebumps to happen. Her face burrows into his shoulder as he works her through them gently before her hand moves to grab his wrist, the sensitivity finally becoming too much. 

“Elvis it’s, o-oh—” Lily struggles to articulate her words and breathe and exist in this moment, the sensation drowning out any thoughts other than the pulse of her own heartbeat she feels between her legs. “It—”

Elvis shushes her, trying his hand on her neck, rubbing it and tightening over and over as he finishes cleaning her out, knowing that whatever is left is too high up for him to reach. He’d have to just pray to god for that to be done away with. "Shhhh, Lilly… Darlin', I'm sorry, bein' as gentle as I can.”

Lilly should object to how his hand at her neck feels almost as if she's a kitten being dragged along by their mother but she can't find it in her to do such a thing. She can't find it in her to since objecting would mean he'd remove something that truthfully is keeping her tenuous grip on reality and the Earth there. She figures she'd float away without it. There's a part of her that doesn't think she'd mind in that moment, that she'd understand floating away after what's happened because it almost doesn't feel real, especially as he takes care to wash her body despite her being fully capable of doing it herself. His grip loosens for the last time as she watches him lean over and unplug the drain. The water swirls slowly at first, gaining speed the longer she stares at it and the more of his release slides down the drain. She hears the crack of Elvis's knees as he stands up and winces for him even as his shadow towers over her. She should get up out of the tub, she knows this and yet her legs feel just shaky enough that she finds the task impossible until she feels his arms underneath hers.

Getting out with his support allows her to fully catch her bearings as he hands her a towel that she wraps around her body, drying herself off as he grabs another and assists with her legs, his knees cracking once again at him getting back down. She makes the mistake of looking down at him and seeing him look up at her with a surprising sense of worship she only ever usually associates with church and God. A shiver makes its way through her at the realization. 

Her voice sounds like it's going through a tunnel as she says something about how she's fine from here. She swears she hears herself say Mr. Presley and hears him say Mrs. Harris like he hadn't seen her naked and like he hadn't just helped her to clean out his release. Their formalities would make her laugh in any other situation, especially if she thinks of his seed catching inside of her. It wouldn't do to call her that when she was carrying his child, now would it? Wouldn't do for her to call him that as her belly rounded out with his baby, would it? Would it?

He leaves and she waits until she hears a goodbye burst forth loud enough to break through the tunnel her ears are in to finish drying off and getting ready.

She barely finishes making dinner as Nathan walks through the door.

Elvis… Elvis finds himself under his shower cursing his actions even as he remembers her face and her pleasure. He dreams of a life. He dreams of a life with her. He dreams of their life together. It feels worse than any nightmare.

Charlie notices something is up the moment he walks in the diner and sees Elvis already sitting down at their table, a plate with just bacon in front of him in addition to eggs and what looks like toast, or at least he hopes it’s toast. It looks like a plate for him and Elvis and yet he sees the man he's willing to call one of his truest friends eating it all as if it's just for him. He ought to be gentle about the whole thing, ask Elvis a question calmly and innocently. 

Instead, as any sensible friend who’s seen you naked and bleeding and cryin’ for your mama does, he steals two pieces of bacon and sits down in the chair across from his best friend and chomps on said bacon before asking one, singular question: "What are you doing?"

Elvis's hand darts out with a speed that betrays his army training to grab the other piece of bacon only to be rebuffed with a frown. "Eating bacon, Charlie. Ya suddenly blind now? Short and blind, what a catch for ya wife."

Charlie visibly recoils and waits for Elvis to apologize or give him some clue that the statement was just his normal, playful ribbing. The crunch of the bacon disabuses him of that notion as the minutes tick by. "We got a family so she must've seen something in me. Just thankful she didn't see you first."

"Ain't that everyone's damn thanks. Thankful I didn't see their wives back then but if I see 'em now they ain't gotta worry. Women don't go for this body like they did back in the day." Elvis stabs at his eggs and Charlie—Charlie thinks he knows what's going on and he can't help but roll his eyes internally. 

"Did some woman turn you down and now you're moping? Over a plate of bacon after church?" He tries to keep the judgment out of his voice but there's still a hint there that he can't do away with. 

If looks could kill as well as every gun both he and Elvis have ever used, Charlie's certain in this moment he would be preparing to go to sleep in his eternal resting place. As it stands he once again realizes that perhaps he ought to not poke his absolute bear of a best friend. Elvis's next words punctuated by another crunch of bacon and a laugh so bitter Charlie's never heard it come from him seals that idea.

"Oh. Charlie, my boy, my boy, that would have been better. I would have handled that like a champ," he shakes his head, "ya 'member Mrs. Harris? The—the woman I told ya 'bout?"

“Yeah, the one with the niece and the husband who can’t work his way ‘round a wrench. What about—?” Charlie stops mid sentence and stares long and hard at Elvis trying to school his face into something normal and something less like he looks about ready to murder him before realizing it’s impossible and saying the first words that come to mind in the most hushed tone he can manage. “Wasn’t one of your rules you wouldn’t sleep with a married woman?”

Elvis can’t help but curse the fact that Charlie has seen him through some of, if not the worst, parts of his life and can regrettably read him like an open book sometimes. He doesn’t answer with words. Instead he allows himself to eat a piece of toast that is both soggy and crispy all at once. His silence is practically deafening before Charlie exhales. 

“You—ou got me thinking your daddy died or something and all this is because you slept with another man’s wife? A man who’s practically ignoring her despite how she looks like a—” Elvis swallows and holds up his pointer finger before practically growling. 

“Not other fuckin’ word, Hodge. Not a single fuckin’ word. Lilly ain’t some fuckin’ European floozy we forgot ‘bout the next day. Don’t ya say ‘nother fuckin’ word.”

A chuckle leaves Charlie’s mouth despite his best efforts to stop it. Elvis is moping about a woman alright, just not the way Charlie thought he was. He wouldn’t have—He loves Elvis, he does but he would have never predicted him managing to charm a woman like that if she didn’t know who he was beforehand. If she didn’t know him as he was when they both came back from the war, both struggling with things they had seen yet pared down to a lean type of beauty: the scraggly pines that grew on Italian mountaintops. Yet maybe, just maybe, there was hope. Very stupid and unwise hope, but hope nonetheless that Elvis might be able to enjoy the same sort of life he has. 

"Cursing on the Lord's day. At me. She's got you—pass me your whole pig's worth of bacon and tell me what happened, E."

Elvis stares at the plate and lets out a heavy sigh as he scoots the plate over. “It ain’t a whole pig’s worth of bacon.”

“It’s as big as my head.” Charlie states, motioning to get the attention of one of the waitresses in an attempt to get a plate and different food even as he eats a piece of bacon.

“Ya have a tiny head, Hodge. Like a damn lil hedgehog.” 

Meanwhile across town Lilly finds herself in her sister’s kitchen, sitting at her dining room table with the light of the sun shining on her through the window. Her sister Melly busies herself with the finishing touches of a lunch for the two of them and Jerry. Lilly had tried to help only to be waved off with an ease that had her sitting down in the chair watching, her hands settling on her stomach as they had been since that fateful afternoon. It’s too soon to know, she reasons, too soon to know if Elvis’s seed took and has filled her empty womb with a child she’s craved for years. Yet her hands gravitate there anyway, almost trying to provide a cradle as if to tell the child she hopes is forming inside her that it’s okay to stay, it’s alright and that she’ll be their mother. She’ll take such good care of them and they’ll get to meet their cousins. They’ll get to meet their cousins and grow up with the one swelling underneath Melly’s apron. 

Melly notices this, of course, notices how her sister is cradling her belly and yet she doesn’t dare ask. She doesn’t dare ask if Nathan’s finally done right by her sister and given her the baby she so desperately wants. Her chest hasn’t changed and she hasn’t felt a firmness when she’s brushed against her but perhaps it’s just too early.

“You’re looking happier,” Melly comments as she sets down the plates of food. She leaves Jerry’s on the counter, knowing her husband will grab it when he comes back inside from dealing with the yard.

Lilly can’t help the way she smiles slightly and practically preens at the acknowledgment that she seems happier. Elvis might not be—Elvis might not have been by since that afternoon but there was something so beautiful about his actions, so gentle and nourishing about him that it stuck with her. The throbbing in her vagina’s finally stopped after days of her cupping it and playing with it next to Nathan’s snoring body, wishing her fingers were thicker and longer and wishing it was Elvis’s cock sliding in and out of her. That he was keeping her full and telling her he’s got her, he’s always got her while filling her with so much of his release that there’d be no other choice but to swell with his child. 

She doesn’t dwell on the fact that it’s taken another man to make her feel a way she hasn't for years. She can’t dwell on that because it’s improper and she’d like to just bask in the glow of everything for now. She’d like to bask in the glow of things before a different glow would overtake her. 

“I feel happier.” Lilly answers, still continuing to grin as she digs into the food. There’s a hint of nausea at some of it but she chalks it up to being hungry. “I feel different.”

Melly’s eyebrows both move upward as she settles into her chair and takes a bite of her toast first, knowing how her stomach reacts to food without a bland base to start off with. “Different. Does that have anything to do with Nathan and you? Anything you want to tell me?”

Lilly’s hand stills in its subconscious rubbing as her eyes widen. “No. Not—not yet.”

There’s something that shifts in Melly, a brightness that shines through as she looks at Lilly. If she is pregnant it's too soon to tell but the idea that she'd be carrying her second while Lilly is finally carrying her first delights her in ways she can't put into words. It's perhaps a secret dream she's always had. The scrape of her chair against the linoleum is harsh to both their ears and yet it’s a small price to pay for the feel of Melly’s hand against her stomach. 

“You’ll tell me as soon as you know?” Melly’s voice comes out as a whisper, as if she’s scared to speak it any louder. “You’ll tell me I’ll have a niece or nephew on the way?”

Lilly nods quickly as she hears the door open and hears Jerry’s voice carry into the kitchen. Melly’s hand moves off of her stomach as quick as can be before Jerry pops his head in and smiles. “Won’t ask what you two were doing before I got here.”

Life doesn't stop that Sunday and instead continues on and on with one week passing by and then another and another until Lilly knows she's due for her cycle and yet it doesn't appear. Her underwear remains pristine and white with not a drop of blood in sight. She doesn't dare tell Melly or anyone yet, knowing it could be a fluke, a stress induced issue but she swears she feels her womb hardening. She swears she feels it bloating in a way that feels different than what comes before her cycle. Perhaps, perhaps Elvis had done it. Perhaps Elvis had filled her and their child was forming unbeknownst to either of them. It occurs to her that she should try and reach out to him and see if he can come by her home. There's nothing that's broken for him to be fixed and yet he deserves to know what's happening inside her. That soon her stomach will round outward and their child will kick and roll and grow inside of her. That she is still married but it would be cruel to deprive him of ever knowing of their child. 

It's too soon for him to know, she'll tell him when she's sure, when there's no mistaking what has happened to her because of their actions that afternoon. She'll tell him then, she'll convince him to come by and press his hand against her stomach so he can feel what he's—what she wished and prayed to have happen even as he washed himself out of her. He ought to be able to be in their life somehow because he's their father and he'd make such a brilliant one. He'd make such a brilliant one and her mind traitorously tells her it's a shame she wouldn't be raising the child with him. 

Six weeks is a long time for him to be avoiding Lilly and he knows that. He knows that she didn't deserve to be left out in the cold like that—to be left without company and companionship like that but he can't help it. He can't help how his mind drifts when his exhaustion sets in remembering how her body felt against his when they danced and when she sagged against him. It’s a sin to covet a man’s wife as much as he covets Lilly. It’s a sin to want to be in another man’s home taking care of his wife in any way she’ll let him. It’s a sin and yet it feels so right, it feels like he’d be doing what he’s meant to be doing. Elvis is not her husband and yet his mind—his traitorous mind and soul tells him he should be and tells him she needs him in some way. She’s been happier, he thinks, since that afternoon—and his mind tells him that he had something to do with that. There’s a glow about her and it draws him in like a moth to a flame before he pulls himself away every Sunday when she passes off her niece. A nagging thought crosses his mind as the weeks go by and he swears that glow is stronger every time he sees her, that perhaps it wasn’t just happiness and joy causing her to glow that way. He ought to ask her and yet the idea feels invasive in a way that makes him think he has to find the right time for it. If his suspicions prove to be correct, he figures they both will need time to process it. 

Six weeks is a long time for him to avoid her and it makes it so that when he gets a call that sounds like Lilly crying there isn’t a moment of hesitation before he finds himself jumping into his truck and driving to her house she shares with her husband. Her door is unlocked and he wants to admonish her for it, tell her that she shouldn’t leave the door unlocked because you never know who might come in but then he sees her. He sees her tear stained face and her rumpled dress and fears the worst. A flash of pure anger courses through his veins as his mind swirls with possibilities of why she’s crying. Why her face and body betray such anguish that it twists his gut and has his mouth opening to speak before her voice sounding so small in a way he’s never heard interrupts him. 

“I was waiting. I was being careful!” Her words don’t make sense to Elvis even as his eyes trace over her form and around the house where they’re standing as if either thing holds the clue for what’s going on. As if some part of the way she’s carrying herself—hunched over—or the way things seem out of place—her lunch was sitting on the table only half eaten—would explain what’s happening, why she had called him crying, muttering about needing to fix things. 

His tone is soft and comforting as he moves to touch her shoulder, to pull her into some form of a hug. “Darlin’—” The word slips out before he can stop himself but he continues. “What’s… what’s wrong?”

Her eyes look up at him and he’s struck by how bloodshot they look. How long had she been crying? How long had her body been wracked by sobs that no one was there to comfort her from? Elvis watches as her mouth opens and closes several times before she shakes her head. “I—the oven is broke again.”

“Lil—Mrs. Harris, things I fix don’t break like that. Not this quick.” He tries to defend his work, knowing there’s no Earthly way that it was broken already. He had made sure to fix it, he had made sure that her oven wouldn’t need his touch for quite a long time after he was inside of it that day. In the back of his mind he thinks he’s missing something.

“It’s broken, Mr. Presley. It’s broken and can’t keep heat and bake anything and I’ll call someone else over if you won’t fix it. Just please take a look at it. Just make it work like I thought it was.” Lilly’s voice shakes but doesn’t waver when she speaks. If anything it seems to get stronger the longer she speaks. It seems she’s more insistent with every word that comes from her mouth. Something is broken—the oven he was supposed to fix is broken and she wants him to check it again. That nagging feeling grows as he looks at her in confusion. He prides himself on being a smart enough man, but… maybe it’s because she clouds his judgment. He can’t tell what she’s talking about.

“Lil—Lilly, why did you call me here?” He manages to almost stutter out the words, wincing he hears it. She has to answer him when he asks point blank, doesn’t she? 

Lilly is silent for the longest while and Elvis thinks he pushed too hard, thinks that he’s overstepped for once—twice—in their friendship and opens his mouth to apologize before she grabs his hand and places it on her stomach. In a rush everything clicks into place for Elvis and swears his heart stops. He should move his hand and yet he can’t, it’s almost as if there’s a magnet keeping his hand attached to her stomach. The oven is broken, her oven is broken and empty and can’t keep heat. 

The night before, when his body gave out and had him sleep he tossed and turned over images of him and Lilly together. Images of her swollen with a child and laughing next to him. He remembers being on his knees kissing her still-flat stomach and laughing with her hand over his and telling her how she’s made him the happiest man alive. He could still hear her giggles ringing in his ears when he woke up. That was fantasy, a dream dreamed up by an old man who shouldn’t be dreaming of a life with a woman he isn’t married to and who is married to another. They’re brilliant company for each other but—but she is not his wife and he is not her husband. 

“I’m sorry.” Elvis whispers the words and they feel so insubstantial, so insignificant to what he feels in this moment. The sorrow he feels for her being fed by her tears and the way her silence just drags on and on. Perhaps this was his doing, perhaps there was something there and he had broken it. Perhaps—perhaps he should have been selfish and not cleaned his release from her. Or perhaps—he can’t dwell on it. It threatens to drive him mad if he does. 

And yet his mind can't shake another time and place where his hand is there for another reason, with her hand over his, a smile on her face instead of tears rolling down her cheeks and onto his suit as she curls into a hug he offers. She looks so young and yet like she's been crushed by the world all at once. A flower run over on the side of the road, soaked in the gutter. The attempt he finally makes to move his hand is thwarted by her own grasping his wrist, forcing him to press down to feel that she's bloated but still very empty.

It was supposed to be different. Things were supposed to go well, she had prayed and begged and cradled her womb and for what? For her cycle to be off and there to be blood mocking her in her underwear? For there to be cramping that feels like it might threaten to tear her in two. No one she’s known has lost a baby, there’s no one she can ask to see if that’s what’s happening. If the child she swore was growing from the moment Elvis released inside of her not once but twice was gone. Or if there just wasn’t one at all and she had been deluding herself. Either option feels almost unbearable and feels like a lead weight in her stomach.

Elvis doesn’t speak and Lilly’s thankful for it. Her dream of telling him and them figuring out how he would be involved has been flushed down the toilet multiple times today and is currently flowing between her legs. Her hand finally loosens its grip on his wrist and her chest tightens as she looks into his eyes. Those blue eyes shouldn’t be so caring, they shouldn’t look so caring when looking at her. There shouldn’t be sympathy in those eyes directed toward her or her empty womb. Yet there is and Lilly is struck not for the first time at how different Elvis is from Nathan. She’s struck by how she’s been in this sort of position before with her husband and she doesn’t recall there being nearly as much care and—dare she even pretend?—-anguish in his gaze. She remembers frustration at himself or, or her? She doesn’t know. She can’t recall just now.

“I—I was late,” She starts, and shakes her head, sniffling. “I was late for my cycle and I didn’t—I don’t know why I called you.”

Elvis doesn’t dare say the first thoughts that come to mind. Doesn’t dare tell her that he thinks she knows exactly why she called him because the mere idea shouldn’t be put into words. He’s already damned himself and her anguish, her pain is perhaps a consequence of it. Had he not given in to his baser urges perhaps Nathan would have given her a child that she could tell him she was growing inside of her. If he hadn’t given into his baser urges she wouldn’t have thought his child was growing inside of her. He shuts his eyes, trying to not think of the image of her swollen with his child once again. 

“Comfort?” The word as an answer feels safe and from the look on Lilly’s face, how it relaxes just a little bit and how her hunched over position straightens out even as she grimaces in pain he was right. However, that urge to fix that had caused so many problems rears its ugly head again and Elvis knows he should ignore it but the grimace on her face reminds him that she’s in pain and to leave her in pain without attempting to help her feels cruel. It feels cruel to just allow her to deal with this on her own. Perhaps that’s why she had called him, taken the chance that he wouldn’t want her to be alone in this situation. Taken the chance to assume he missed her and just wants what he's craved from her more than anything else: her company. 

A nod is the only thing she manages before her body is wracked with another flare of pain as Elvis watches. He’s never—he’s never been here when she’s on her cycle so he doesn’t know if this is normal or not but he remembers June and remembers the other girls and knows, in this moment, he can’t leave her like this. Especially after she had called him. His mind tries to think back on what other women would do before he remembers how some would curl up in bed and ask for heat and any number of other things. The flash of memory at her in the bath after their activities and a flash of a fantasy of her in the bath with him runs through his thoughts until he shakes his head to clear it. 

“Missus—Lilly. Darlin’, I—wouldn’t it be better to be laying down? For your pain?” His words are chosen as carefully as he can and yet he still feels like he might have said the wrong thing until he sees her move to lean and sag against him as if he’s the only thing that’s going to keep her standing in this exact moment. 

“My—oh, just help me to my bedroom, you don’t—” The words are lost as Elvis picks her up, earning a bit of a shocked gasp from her. “You don’t have to pick me up, I can w-walk.”

Elvis stays silent for a moment or so as he walks, ignoring the ache in his knees that tell him he should have prepared more for this. That he should have known better than to pick Lilly up like this and yet he finds that it’s easy to ignore the ache as her protest grows a little quieter and she practically burrows into his hold. He is not her husband and yet he wonders if her husband’s ever done this for her. Ever treated her with care when she’s like this. 

Nathan had noticed her pain that morning and brushed it off, much to Lilly’s frustration. It’s not that she wanted him to know she had engaged in a transgression but she was his wife and she was in pain. Jerry had made sure Melly was taken care of after Lizzie and Nathan couldn’t even be bothered to call her sister or anyone. The neglect is what feels like an even worse knife than the one she swears she feels in her lower stomach. The neglect is why she called Mr—Elvis. Even in the short time she’s at least partially known him—the actual him, not the image she had of the man who taught her niece’s Sunday school—has taken care of her and hasn’t left her to rot and wallow in her pain and loneliness. He’s kept her company and fixed so many things around her house that at this point she’s thinking she’s going to have to break things just to have an excuse to get him to visit under the guise of working. 

She knows she shouldn’t relax in his hold, she shouldn’t burrow into his arms like he’s her husband and he’s just carrying her to their bed but she can’t help it, the sheer joy and calmness that settles over her from the care he shows overwhelming her. His arms allow her to feel safe in the moment, help her to forget how much pain she’s in physically and mentally. They are a balm to her aches even as she potentially causes some for him. It doesn’t take too long for him to reach her bedroom, using his body to open the door the entire way from its cracked open position. Lilly hears him sigh and feels his head move to try and avoid looking around before she feels him shift her in his arms.There’s a difference, she thinks, in knowing that he would have to eventually set her down on her bed and him actually doing it. 

A shiver runs through her body that has Elvis’s grip tightening as he moves his hands away. It’s not cold and yet here she was shivering like she was that fateful night.

“You alright?” he murmurs, low and questioning in a way that he shouldn’t be.

“You’re warm,” she whispers back at him, looking into his eyes and trying to pretend that answers everything. Pretend that telling him he’s warm will get him to stay and comfort her until it’s time for Nathan, cold, icily indifferent Nathan to be home. “I feel—it felt good.”

Elvis opens his mouth to speak before his breath catches in his throat at the sheer intensity of the look she’s giving him. He can’t put a name to what he sees in her eyes, only that it threatens to overwhelm him if he stares at her for too much longer. He has to leave, he needs to go back to work or home or just somewhere where her eyes aren’t burning holes into his soul. He finally starts to step away only for Lilly’s arm to find its way in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. Her hand moves to grab his and grasps it so tightly he can’t wrench it from her. 

“Can you—can you stay?” She asks, quiet as a church mouse and looking as if she expects him to say no. As if she expects to be left alone to deal with things once again. It makes his stomach roil and twist and he feels almost like throwing up before he moves to sit down on the bed. 

“Not for too long, Lilly,” he answers, as he watches her move to the other side of the bed, letting go of his hand as she does. He sits down, groaning slightly as he does at the feel of her bed underneath him. It dips more than it did when she was occupying the same spot, his weight causing the springs to creak just a bit more. Lilly waits until he gets comfortable to move closer to him. He stays sitting, his body leaning against the headboard, not even daring to try and lay down in her marriage bed. It makes trying to cuddle with him harder than it should be but after a moment of a deliberation she settles on laying her head in his lap. The warmth of his belly seeps into her head, soothing any headache she’s gained from crying and the vantage point allows her to feel encased in what feels like a protective shell. Elvis tries to keep his hands to himself but as he feels Lilly settle against him and sees every wince and shift his hands move to her hair, running his fingers through it. Scratching ever so softly against her scalp. Lilly’s sigh tells him it was the right thing to do and emboldens him to sing, breathe out into the world the first song that comes to mind when he thinks of her. 

Lilly hears Elvis’s voice singing Jo Stafford to her, a song she’s only heard once or twice before but it feels so romantic that something inside her chest feels warm and feels almost like it’s blossoming the more she hears his voice singing in that low tone, his hands flowing through her hair. 

“But just remember, darling, all the while, you belong to me,” he sings, watching as Lilly’s eyes start to flutter shut, the pain and the emotions of today getting the best of her. The more he sings the more he realizes he wishes those words were true. The more he wishes he wouldn’t have to leave in a few hours. But she is not his wife and he is not her husband and he’ll leave in a few hours as he should. He’ll leave after he shakes her awake lightly, grimacing as she winces in pain and as her eyes practically beg him to stay once again. He'll leave watching her curl back into her sheets but won't see her head move to where he had been sitting or see her hands grab at the pillow that had been behind his back.

She will wake up alone right before Nathan comes home. She will wake up to a simple dinner made with two plates on the table. 

She calls him back over the next day.

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally,  @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @marriedtopresley, @memphis-menace, @steph-speaks, @coolgirl462, @vintageshanny, @memphisflash1935-1977, @j-v-9-2, @sexystarfish, @duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, @jessicarcates, @chirssycrumble9456789, @shantellescrivener, @yomammalolha, @honey6578, @urmom11111111111119, @myradiaz, @elvispresleyxoxo, @tryingtogettoelvis, @joegramoe, @rainblue-art, @fav-fanficssss, @moodyblueriver, @misspresley, @fallinlovewithurlove, @ash-omalley, @yynneessmons good heavens, i think that's everyone. those of you who didn't get the tag, know i'm gonna head to the messages within the day. also i including those of you who reblogged the first chapter. i would have done likes as well but there- there was a hefty chunk and i didn't know for sure if you all wanted to be tagged.

additional explanation: so if you haven't just read the fic instead of just scrolling down to the bottom to see what's up, hello. but even if you did just read the fic, let the record show that i myself did write this with the idea that lilly had a very early miscarriage. and it's why i added a tag just in case for it since i know some people avoid the subject matter for their own mental health. however i purposefully left it nebulous because she herself wouldn't know for sure and it's- the same result occurs either way, she is not pregnant and that wrecks her emotionally because she had put so much stock in the possibility that she would be. no matter what if she wasn't pregnant she was going to be sad and depressed and generally in a state of anguish. so, you can read this whichever way you want, it does not really change the intent/what happens afterward in this. but i didn't want to directly spoil all of you in the warnings especially since it causes a turning point of sorts, but i also don't want anyone to be in duress because of me. also i promise honestly these two have a happy ending, just trust me like y'all trusted me with professor presley, okay?

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Y'all I'm - I'm so tired y'all

I get this often. It's understandable. I've said a lot in the past of how I believe no canonical age that can be proven - the same way there's hundreds of characters who's sexuality or nationality can't be proven.

But the problem is people saying things likes this and feeling no need whatsoever to back themselves up.

Hobie Has No Age, Stop Giving No Evidence.

[a SHORT RANT about the lack of evidence and sourcing within fandom - and the Hobie age discussion]

I genuinely believe you can headcanon him at any reasonable age (as in not 42 or 12 or something).

The problem with this is saying something like this as if it's definitive fact then making no attempt to back up your argument isn't helpful, okay, or appropriate.

In any context.

And it happens everywhere in fandom. All the time.

By saying things like this, or even stating objective facts about the world without backing yourself up with evidence, means you expect others to take you at face value with no additional questioning.

Which you should never encourage others to do. Which no one should ever do.

Once again, I believe you can headcanon Hobie at any age. I genuinely do not care.

I think he's 19-20.

I have evidence for why I think this.

Does this evidence mean I am 100% correct on his age and that I have the right to tell people otherwise?

No. Because it hasn't been confirmed.

But if you're going to tell me my stance is wrong, you have to be ready to engage with every single one of my evidence points so I can understand why it's wrong. You will have to present you own evidence, and defend it.

So often people will say an assertion objectively like this - and then immediately expect the other person to defend themselves.

Even though they haven't even defended their argument to begin with.

You don't walk up to someone and ask their name before you say yours.

You don't walk up to someone and demand their argument/rebuttal or submission to your opinion, without even stating the entirety of the opinion first.

This is something that is so common in this specific conversation - but it goes WAY outside if the realm of the ATSV fandom or even fandom in general.

If you state fact, an opinion, a rebuttal, a criticism, what have you - please back yourself up.

And I mean with screenshots and dialogue and gifs if you gotta.

In all subjects. All topics of all degrees.

I don't think Hobie has a canonical age.

I do think Hobie is around 19-20, in my interpretation. I have evidence that makes be confident and sound in my decision to write him as such.

And I think everyone holds the individual right to make such an interpretation for themselves.

But if you wish to engage someone else on how they interpret Hobie - engage them fully. Back yourself up.

Do not expect them to reply apologizing to you - because let's be honest. I feel like that's what y'all want and expect.

That when you say a one line statement like it's objective fact with no follow up, the expectation is for the other person to be like

'Sorry, I didn't know! I'll edit/take the post down now :) thanks for telling me'

Because really, what other answer can you give? Just saying 'Hobie is a minor' and nothing more leaves only two options: accept what they're saying as fact or defend yourself on why you think he isn't.

Y'all genuinely do not expect to be questioned.

ABSOLUTELY NOT - You better speak into the mic!!

Come with screenshots and script lines. And if you can't - Then it isn't true. And it isn't definite.

I will almost never accept something on face value without getting at least some form evidence from a reputable source. And I say almost because we all fuck up, but ideally I' m striving for never.

I've already stated in the past why I think this conversation is absolutely fruitless.

But if you want to engage in it regardless - or engage in any fandom discourse - Engage with it fully.

If you're going to engage me, engage with me fully. I'm completely open to talking about it and looking over any evidence you have.

But saying things like

- Well I know young people who look like him-

- I know young people who act like him-

- People are making him look older-

- He most likely has a fake ID-

None of that is evidence.

All of that is pure speculation. And there is a stark difference between justification and evidence.

If your justification isn't coming from the source material - the script, movie, or writers - it isn't evidence or proof.

You can use that justification to root your own interpretation - but once you make the assertion that he definitively is or isn't (which can't be proven) - at the very least, the burden is on you to provide evidence that is sufficient.

Doing stuff like this is so unhelpful.

Multiple times have I seen people ask how old Hobie is and someone will reply '17🥰' and the other person will be like 'okay thanks!!'

And I'm like '????????'

So that's it huh ... yous just... not gonna ask no follow up questions? we done here?

And the chain reaction just continues.

Not I, Not I! I'd rather die - for in these streets, you niggas lie.

Hobie has no canonical age or sexuality or heritage. He doesn't have a canonical middle name either.

Yet, people desperately try to make a definitive assertion on only one of those things - for the benefit of nothing but their own shipping -

And then they don't provide evidence.

Always ask for evidence.

In person too. I will speak from experience people get offended when you ask them "Where'd you hear that," or "Can I have a source, please? Text me a link." or "What's your proof?"

They take it as a question of authority or a lack of trust.

And maybe it is. Doesn't matter and I don't care. Questioning authority and not going off blind trust is good, I thought that's what we were told to do.

I find this so ironic to talk about right now - because just yesterday @layz-chipz (they're great check them out) was talking about potentially making a video essay about the Hobie age discourse, the futility of it and the fragility of the arguments.

And I can say it's a video that's sorely needed (no pressure though!) and a conversation that has unnecessarily dominated the community and conversation for way too goddamn long.

It needs to be - in the words of Hobie Brown - SQUASHED.

and to reiterate and make it clear - My issue it's not with people who think he's underage or a minor. Or people who do so without evidence.

My issue it's people asserting something, and then not supporting it directly after said assertion.

Hobie wouldn't like that. Hobie would want you to cite your sources. Or mind your business. Oh and-

IMO Hobie as of right now has no canonical age.

And if you read this far I love you

Anyway here's a really high res photo of Hobie and a meme i have no other place to use 😭😭

[starseneyes]

Chenford- Lucy Chen / Tim Bradford - The Rookie - Season 5 - Ep 12

"Death Notice" aka "Bow Chicka Bow Wow"

SPOILER ALERT: If y'all wanna stay un-spoiled. Run. Just run. I say this with all love, but this is not the place to be. I am going to spoil EVERY SINGLE DETAIL that I notice. But, if you want to digest every morsel of deliciousness with me, come on in!

How'd it all shake out? Let's dive in!

Riding in an Elevator

Let's just call out Tim for stopping the elevator for Lucy, and her little breathless, "thanks". These two are adorbs. Also, shoutout to the makeup, hair, and costume departments who put a lot of work into this scene.

And Tim's eyeroll on the "Detectives" line? I was rolling.

Tamara and Lucy

FINALLY getting to see Tamara, again!

"You're here." "I live here. "I went to bed at one and you still weren't home. "Oh, I came home around then. I must've just missed you. Trivia went late." "And how was Trivia?"

Let's be real. The entire point of this conversation is that Tamara wants to let her know that she's onto Lucy. Tamara wants to talk about this new development, considering last she knew of Tim and Lucy was "This is work" when she caught them macking in the living room.

And Tamara is never going to judge Lucy, and will always give her space. But, it's about time the gal came clean with someone.

"You are such a smooth liar. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, all that undercover training." "I'm not lying. "I saw Tim drop you off."

I love the fact that Lucy literally drops the weight she's been carrying. Not only that, she slides around to sit on the couch and dish with her roomie about her new boyfriend.

Lucy crosses from behind the couch that was separating them and sits on it, leaning down to chat with Tamara. The camera moves down with her, the audience settling in with Lucy.

"Thank God. I am so over coming up with cover stories." "Why the big secret? You're both single." "I mean, we're just keeping things under wraps until we figure things out."

There are so many layers and levels here to the why. But this implies that Tim and Lucy don't want to go public until they have a gameplan. And that really makes sense for both their personalities.

I've seen folks ask, "Why is Tim so cool with this secret dating thing?" Do you know how weird it can be when friends start dating and they spend every. freakin. day. around their other friends? Everyone has an opinion.

Tim doesn't mind delaying that a bit longer. Same with Lucy. But, also, this is a huge transition. Even though they're both secure in the knowledge that they want one another, and they have years of history, they have to figure out who they are together.

"We're not sleeping together." "Why not?"

First off, the music cue had me rolling. Oh. My. Goodness. Director, Editor, whoever came up with that idea? Thank you. I had a much needed giggle.

But, also, remember that this is strange behavior for Lucy. Lucy isn't a one-night-stand girl, but she's also not a "dating you but not doing you" girl.

Tamara's gotta be wondering if Tim misfires or something, at this point, because there ain't no other reason she can think of that Lucy hasn't torn those clothes off by now.

And this is part of the maturity of Tim and Lucy's relationship that I love. They don't need to be sleeping together to be fully committed, but they're also not rushing to get to that moment.

"We're taking it slow. We want to do this right." "So, you're not sure how you feel?" "I know exactly how I feel. I mean, this is the most amazing relationship I've been in since, ever."

Oooh, the "r" word returns. Lucy tried to talk to Tim about their relationship on her last day riding with him as a Rookie and the man was not a fan of putting a label on it.

But, it's also important to note that Tim and Lucy have been dating a matter of weeks and she already knows this is the best relationship of her life. Not only the most important. Best.

"Okay. And you're waiting why… again?"

I hear Tamara's point! If y'all are on the same page and completely committed, why aren't clothes flying through our living room? For one, Tamara might want to get a look at Tim's bare chest in Jackson's honor. For two, what's the hold-up, lady?

I've talked a lot about them savoring this relationship. But, I also think Lucy has been using the "taking it slow" idea as an excuse so she doesn't have to think about the roadblock in her way.

Think about it. Lucy couldn't process through whether or not to date Emmett, so she needed to talk it out with Tim. Lucy couldn't process why she didn't want to move in with Chris until she talked it out with Tim.

What Lucy needs to do is talk it out with Tim. But, Tamara's push is taking Lucy in a different direction. It's not a bad direction.

They could have slept together and it wouldn't have wrecked anything. But, I think the security they have at the end of the episode (Yes, I'm skipping a little... go with me, here) is what Lucy needed.

Tim isn't facing the issue of their professional relationship. This whole episode demonstrates that. They need to take care of that power imbalance, because if they don't, then there's no point in any of this.

To truly be together, there were three things that had to go as outlined by Tim in Season 5, Episode 1. "I'm dating Ashley. And Lucy is with Chris. And I'm her Superior Officer, so..."

Tim told us himself what has to go for them to truly be together. And it's that last one that's still in their way, whether they acknowledge it or not.

"Morning." "Morning."

First, I have to say I love to see them greeting one another fully. Back in 5x06, Lucy kept trying to tell Tim "Good morning" and he kept looking past her or trying to avoid it. Because he was trying to avoid her and his feelings for her.

But that particular obstacle is out of the way because Tim knows how she feels about him and Lucy knows how he feels about her.

Now to the part y'all thirsty folks really care about:

Hands. Glorious hands. Wandering, sexual-desire filled HANDS. Lucy holds her keys in both hands so she can release one as she sidles up alongside Tim. Tim taps on her thigh with his fingers, a little, "hey, honey". Then he tries to catch her finger with his pinkie. In broad daylight. In front of the station. Are you insane, Tim Bradford?!

They can't keep their hands to themselves! Y'all, these two are outside a police station where they both work. Before they were dating, they would stand outside with at least enough room for the entire Holy Trinity. Now, they're practically walking on top of each other and "sneaking" in touches.

But nobody's gonna notice? Yeah, right!!

Tim seems to finally remember himself and wipe that gorgeous grin off of his face. But, oy, I love seeing him so happy!

Both of them quickly make fists with their hands after the initial contact, and Tim even presses his hand against his pocket as though checking for his keys.

But it's Tim's smile that I can't stop rewinding and watching. Look. At. Our. Boy. Have we ever seen him so happy? Tim is beaming and all they did was barely brush one another.

Because much as the physical is amazing, it's about simply being close to the person who makes you happiest in the world. Lucy is Tim's person and he gets to touch her and have secret moments with her.

He's no longer pining across the parking lot. He's walking alongside her knowing she is his as he is hers. And, let's be real, this isn't about being possessive. Lucy isn't a purse any more than Tim is a wallet. It's about knowing that this person is your person. And Tim and Lucy are each other's.

And don’t think I didn’t peep the ring. Lucy chose to put that on this morning when she told him it was naked time, just like she did when she came to the station to tell him Chris was out of the way. The streak continues!

Folks... I haven't made it past the first two words of the scene... Y'all know this is gonna be a looooong one. I hope you have snacks!

"Ummm."

Look how Tim is still smiling as he leans his head closer to hear what she's going to say. So cute.

"Tonight is the night."

Tim was not expecting that. I'm not saying that he doesn't want to add that layer to their relationship. I'm simply saying he wasn't expecting her to announce it in the parking lot at work.

"Oh, really?"

Look at that man's quizzical brow. He wants to be sure he understands perfectly, that he's not misunderstanding. Because, come on, he misread things once before and Lucy set him straight. They've been on the same page for a while, now, and he wants to be sure they still are.

Lucy, meanwhile, has already planned out the outfit she's going to wear when he finally undresses her. Come on. You know she has. After the disaster of running late to their first date because she couldn't pick an outfit, Lucy can't be late to her own apartment.

Lucy's got a plan, and she's ready for her man. Wow, Dr. Suess just got a kinky upgrade, and I didn't even intend it! Anyway...

"Yes. Really."

Come-hither Lucy has made her appearance, folks. Yowza!! The Velvet Voice has traded places, and Lucy is already seducing her man... in the parking lot.

And poor Tim can't even see the way she's looking at him... Like he's whip cream and her tongue can't get enough. Like he's a chai latte and she wants to drink every last drop. Like he's... Okay, you get it. Lucy's got it bad for Tim Bradford and I am here for it!

"My place or yours?"

With doubt out of the way, Tim is wasting no time. And I'm proud of him for it! He is so fully committed to this relationship, and so is she, and it really shows in the confidence they both have.

Let's talk about that for a second. Lucy doesn't look to the future with the guys she dates. She doesn't want labels. She doesn't want to meet the parents. She doesn't invest in the relationship because it's never been worth it before.

Tim is the exception. In the past, it was Tim who didn't want to label their "relationship" (partnership... mentorship), but Lucy has always put a label on it. Even when she blurted out her feelings, she labeled it a "relationship". That was while she was still dating her "work in progress".

Because it's different with Tim. She doesn't want to rush into bed because she wants to savor every second of this. I've said it before, but when you know it's your last anything... you savor it a bit more.

Lucy's already half-joking about grandchildren, and thinking about their future together. She has the confidence that this is built to last—and Tim does, too.

We've talked throughout the series about Lucy's issues with second-guessing, but Tim has his own self-esteem issues. He trusts himself as a cop explicitly, but as a man, far less.

That's why he was so cautious coaching Little League, why he minimizes himself and his wants in relationships. He's so afraid of being his father. He doesn't trust who he is outside of the job.

Lucy has helped him find himself, again. She helped him go after his dreams of Sergeant. She prevented him from sacrificing himself to protect Isabelle. She had his back with the false-fender-bender. I could keep going, but I'll stop.

The broken pieces of a man are almost impossible to put together, but like the Japanese art of Kintsugi, there is a way to mend them into something whole and beautiful. Different from what it was before, but no less complete.

Tim helped Lucy find surety in her decisions, sure, but she helped him find confidence in himself. They balance one another so beautifully, and in the light of one another's love, they're blossoming.

Tim is confident in who he is with Lucy. Lucy is confident in who she is with Tim. There's the promise of forever without the discussion. Because it isn't needed. They both knew as soon as they took this risk, it was all or nothing.

And now, they're taking the next step in their relationship, together.

"Jealous dog or nosy roommate?"

Kojo! Oh, Kojo is going to be so happy that his Mommy and Daddy are finally together. That poor pups been sitting there thinking, "When is the blonde lady who tastes gritty going to leave so I can get Mommy back?" Well, baby boy, your Mommy is coming home.

Just not tonight.

"Tamara knows." "What? You told her?" "No. She has eyes. I didn't have to."

Let's be real. Anybody with eyes (not you, Nolan) knows what's going on here. Tim's been smiley. Lucy and he are now glued to the hip out-of-uniform. He's doing an awful lot of "nothing".

"But she is staying at her friend's tonight. So…"

Suddenly Tamara's knowledge about them is a good thing. "I should go," Tamara once said... No worrying about her walking in on them this time.

And, look, I know some people really wanted to see Tamara catching them. But we already got that in S4 and it was hilariously done.

Not everything has to happen on-camera. Not every item on our wish lists will be fulfilled. And that's okay. This isn't the Chenford show (much as my Metas might suggest otherwise).

That's what fanfics are for! And, believe it or not, I wrote quite a bit back in my college days, mostly for Alias.

We are going to see some gooooooood stuff on-screen, even if we don't get everything we want. So, stick around, eh?

Side Note: It sounds like Eric has a cold! They really mean “the show must go on”. I once did a show with a fever of 102. I knew I wasn’t feeling great but had no idea how bad it was until I got off the stage. Performing’s a funny profession!

Grey whisks in, reminding me I'm supposed to be talking about Chenford and not me. Yikes! Let me get my focus back.

Tim and Lucy need that same splash of cold water because they are looking at one another and Lucy's doing that thing where she presses her lips together while thinking about Tim that is doing things to our boy.

"Mm, this is gonna be awkward. " "It doesn't have to be. We've ridden together hundreds of times." "Never as a couple."

Oooh, we've graduated! First it was "we're dating", then we got the "relationship" mention to Tamara, and now we've got the "couple" label. Nice!

Why am I making such a big deal about this? Lucy doesn't do labels. In that past she did, we know, because she mentions her boyfriends never being good enough for her mother. But with her guys in this show? Nope!

She wanted to keep things casual with Nolan and wouldn't leave her stuff at his place. Emmett was not her boyfriend, as she stated many times. Chris was her "work in progress".

Tim is a labels guy. He likes things to have boxes and labels and organization. His house is very put together and uncluttered.

But I feel like he is taking her lead on this. He knows Lucy. She doesn't do labels. But she does with Tim. Because Tim is the one she's been waiting for... she just didn't know it.

"So, are you telling me you're not gonna be thinking about tonight?" "Not at all. Thank you." "Me, neither."

It's like an un-said bet, except she is totally checking out his ass.

Also, Lucy and Tim opening doors for one another. Wow, is that a metaphor for this episode. Lots of opening and closing doors all over the place.

It started with the elevator with Tim making sure it stayed open and letting Lucy go first. Here, Lucy's the one opening the door for Tim.

Their whole relationship is littered with opening and closing doors. And this entire episode (much as the theme seems to be "judgment" and "the choices we make") is about opening and closing doors.

"I could tell Grey that I got food poisoning." "Just to get out of riding with me?" "I mean, I get the day off. We avoid all this weirdness. Wins all around." "You're overthinking this. We leave our personal life at the door, just like always" "Oh, And you can just shut it off?"

Lucy is the one thinking clearly, here. Look, I love Tim. He's my favorite character (Lucy is a very close second), but he's not facing reality. The reality is—something has to change.

And, oh, that is scary for a person who grew up with instability and clings to what is known and safe. The minute he acknowledges this problem, he won't be able to ignore it, and then they have to face it, and then everything has to change.

"At 7:59, I'm your girlfriend. At 8:01, I'm your, what? Your subordinate?

What. Did. You. Just. SAY!?!?! Lucy Chen, who has resisted calling any of the guys we've seen her date a "boyfriend" just self-identified at Tim Bradford's girlfriend.

I'm gonna need a minute, here. Because, OH MY GOSH IT HAPPENED!

I should save that for later, right? Right.

But, nope, I'm losing it. I'm squeeling into a pillow trying not to alert my kids so they run into the room saying, "Mama, Mama!" and then I miss what's next. Because Lucy bad*ass Chen just called herself Tim Bradford's girlfriend.

They've been dating three weeks! Remember Lucy's initial response to why she didn't love Chris when Tim asked. She said they hadn't been together long.

But everything is different with Tim. And it always will be. They were carved from opposite sides of the same stone, destined to reunite when the time was right. Or, we might take Plato's nod and think of the one being split into two, destined to search for their other halves.

"Really?" *models herself* "My duty belt. My taser is on the wrong side. Usually, you'd be all over me for that."

I admit, I didn't notice. Crap. I'm as in love with her as Tim is!

"You did that on purpose? You don't do Tim Tests. I do Tim Tests." "Well, that's 'cause this isn't a Tim Test. It's a Lucy Lesson. And, admit it, you're taking it easy on me. We're not even on duty, yet, and our dynamic has changed."

Damn, Lucy! Holding him accountable!! But I love Tim blowing air out as she said, "Lucy Lesson". He's so exasperated with his woman.

Lucy taps his arm, and I must applaud her restraint. It's definitely a "on-duty Lucy" touch in that her hand is open and barely connects with his arm. But, she's trying to check him.

"Get in the car." "It's called a Shop."

Much as I hate the point, she's absolutely right. Tim and Lucy on-duty dynamic together has changed. And it has to.

"You haven't noticed?" "What? That you're carrying your coffee in your gun hand? Of course, I did. I just haven't said anything because these Lucy Lessons are pointless." "You really don't think you're treating me differently?"

First off, Lucy's touch lingers, this time. Much as she's telling Tim that their dynamic has changed (and he does need to acknowledge it), she's demonstrating it accidentally as much as on-purpose.

Also, remember Tim barking at Lucy for holding her radio in her gun hand in front of Emmett? And how Lucy was angry at Emmett for making an issue of it, because Tim was technically the in the right?

That's where my brain goes, immediately. He rarely goes soft on her, and she always notices. But now Tim Bradford is f*cking mush around his lady.

Tim wants so badly for this not be an issue. It reminds me of him at the restaurant trying not to react to the two men arguing, hoping that it would go away. If he doesn't acknowledge it, it doesn't have to be faced... but this has to be faced.

"You're not a Rookie. You want to change up your duty belt, carry your coffee in your right hand, it's up to you. You know. This isn't about us. I'd give Thornsen the same leeway."

*cough* BULLSHIT *cough*

"This is robbery. Wait a minute, you had your gun! This is armed robbery." "I'm sure your earrings will come up. We will call you when we have them." "I want a receipt" "We don't issue receipts. Look, it's all in the report. If you want to file a complaint, you can do so at the front desk on your way out." "I didn't take the earrings." "I know."

Tim will never accuse you of stealing, but this is a big deal. And Lucy knows it. Tim knows it, too, but he wants to do whatever he can to save her.

FAST FORWARD: And, let's be clear, after exhausting every avenue, he was going to do it... to report her. But he was going to try everything in his power, first.

"God, I've been so focused on us. Did I screw up?"

Damn. This hits hard. Poor Lucy always does her best to do it by the book, the way Tim taught her. Where did the earrings go? Tim doesn't want to acknowledge it, but you can see how soft his eyes go, immediately. He's worried for her. He's not thinking about the earrings—he's thinking about Lucy.

FAST FORWARD: And, yes, I've seen the whole episode, now, so I know. But... I like to write these as though it's the first time. And the first time, I should have seen that Lucy Lesson coming.

I mean, it was so beautifully set up with Tamara commenting on Lucy's ability to lie so smoothly, and then with the string of Lucy Lessons. I should have seen it coming, but I admit I expected the worst and didn't.

I truly expect ships I love to go through horrible pain and be destroyed. I'm learning to trust The Rookie more as the show goes on, but I have a lot of harnessed distrust there to dislodge.

"We'll keep checking until we find them." "Wait, wait, okay. Look. You need to file a memorandum with the chief. It's protocol. I get it." "We're not there, yet."

Tim is avoiding. He's trying to hard to not have to face it. And Lucy's the one being practical, here. She can see that Tim is treating her differently and she knows it can't be that way.

He doesn't want to face it. He once felt responsible for pushing her towards a serial killer. We saw how unhinged he was, and they were nowhere near this level in their relationship, now. If he is the one to write her up and it tanks her career... He'd blame himself.

"Well, how long can it wait?" "I have discretion with things like this. We find the earrings no paperwork necessary." "But if we don't you need to report me to IA." "Maybe janitorial swept them up."

Lucy can see what Tim is clearly (yes, I used their word) missing, here. But she's trying to let him get their on his own. Talking to him about it was getting nowhere, so she changed tactics.

And I love how this is shot. It's giving me major CSI Grissom/Sara vibes. Flashlights and searching while dealing with tension and romance? Yeah, I've got a type.

But, seriously, there's such simplicity in the matching over-the-shoulder shots of them, on opposite sides of this issue, but still very much in line with one another. I love the symbolism, intentional or not.

"We canceled our date." "What happened?" "Well, Tim and I rode together today and it really drove home all of the problems with dating your boss." "It did seem tricky, but I didn't want to say anything. Does that mean you guys are breaking up?" "No."

No hesitation from Lucy. Look, I love Tamara (and her relationship with Lucy is one of my absolute favorites on the show). But, Tamara's view of relationships is filtered through her own experience.

Come on, all of us filter how we see Tim and Lucy through our own experiences, for better or worse. But those once-in-a-lifetime relationships are different. They change how you see your future because for the first time there is a future with that other person.

Tamara hasn't experienced that herself, yet, and based on what she's seen with Lucy, none of her other guys really stuck.

Tamara's known about this relationship one day, so she doesn't know all the details or struggles Tim and Lucy had getting to this point. There's no going back for Tim and Lucy. It isn't even a consideration.

"We'll figure out how to make it work. " "Great. How?"

This is tricky. This is tough. Tim and Lucy have to figure this out, and do it now. There's no more time to put it off, to pretend it's not an issue, to ignore what they know to be true.

Tim puts the people he loves ahead of everything because they are so few and far between.

He didn't want to coach Little League for two seconds, because just being on that field in that position risked him becoming his father.

We all know that risk is near impossible, but Tim doesn't. As a child of abuse, he's haunted by what he's survived and terrified of becoming it.

He will do whatever he needs to for Lucy... but that doesn't make it right. With Isabelle, he was about to go over that line if not for Lucy. We know he's capable.

And, to be fair to Tim, when there was no other recourse, he was willing to do what was right in this case. He hated it, but he was going to do it. Because he is still the man he was... thanks to Lucy.

"Lucy! Your boyfriend's here."

I love Tim's face on "boyfriend". This is likely the first time he's heard himself called Lucy's boyfriend, and it just makes me giggle every time I see it.

Tim has his hands in his pockets, much as he did the last time he stood outside this door, urging her to go to UC school as she feared he was pushing her away.

"Did she tell you I figured it out on my own? I'd make a great detective." "I have no doubt."

Such an interesting quirk to hear Tim echo those words in that doorway, again. Last time it was to Chris about Lucy's level of care. This time, it's about Tamara.

So, I have to believe that on some level, he means it. And that could be a very interesting turn of events if they ever wanted to take Tamara down the path of becoming "the rookie" since they try to have someone in a "rookie" position each season.

"Hey, I thought we canceled." "Uh, we didn't." "Oh."

Now that Lucy doesn't have to hide from Tamara, she goes in for the hug. And I love the way Tim's head ends up in the crook of her arm. It reminds me of the hug from Breakdown in Season 4.

It's like he's nestling into her. Because, it takes effort for him to bend down to that level. I'm always fascinated watching tall/smol ships and how they handle that.

Tim and Lucy have history to draw from, but I look back at The X Files and I giggle thinking about the "Gilly boxes" they had Gillian Anderson stand on to get them framed well in the same shot. I have wondered a time or two if they'd used them for Chenford. No lie!

But I love how... relaxed Lucy is in front of Tamara knowing that she doesn't have to hide Tim, anymore.

But this is a serious discussion, and they need Tamara to skidaddle. "Go on, kiddo. Mom and Dad need to talk."

"You have to report it, now." "I know." "And if it was Aaron, you would have reported him already." "I know. But it's not Aaron. It's you." "And you can't be objective when it comes to me, right?"

Look at Tim's sad face and the shake of his head. But this is where Lucy needed him to go. He needed to see that he is going to treat her differently, and that's not going to work.

"And now endeth the Lucy lesson." *giggle* "The what?" *giggles*

I love this, "What" Because Eric Winter puts so much into it that I am cackling with laughter.

"The earrings were never missing?" "Nope! I set them aside and I gave them back to Sergio after work." "That's evil. And impressive. And evil."

GIRLFRIEND! I am so proud of you. It's like a productive prank. Yes, she manipulated him, but much like some of the Tim Tests, it was what he needed. Tim helped Lucy become a better cop. She's helping him become a better boyfriend.

Because in this case, what he needs to do is be honest with himself. He can't be objective where she's concerned.

"I know, but you weren't facing the problem." "Okay, well now I am. So what do we do?"

These two are absolutely working together. I stan a couple who communicates. Because he slides that "we" in there so fast. Lucy and Tim are learning how to really communicate and work through issues as a couple, and I love seeing that on my screen.

When my husband and I first married, I came from a family where screaming and name-calling was the norm. He came from a family where conflict was ignored because it was "unpleasant". It took forever for us to learn how to have a productive discussion when we were on opposite sides of an issue.

One of the simple pleasures of The Rookie's track record with ships is getting to watch our favorite couples work together. Jyla and Wopez paved the way for Chenford, in that respect.

"We only have two real options." "Break up or one of us leaves Mid-Wilshire."

First off, I love how they never even entertain the option of breaking up. Because that isn't an option for them. Yes, it technically exists as an option, but it's not one Tim and Lucy will ever consider.

They're in this and neither one is giving up on it. No second guessing. No doubt. Tim and Lucy are completely sure about one another and secure in their relationship.

"It should be me." "No. No, you love it here." "No, I do. But there isn't an open Sergeant supervisor job anywhere else in the division. I checked. Which means you would have to take a demotion and that's not happening."

I love that she talked about it. And that she'd already researched other Sergeant positions. That's our girl! Sorry... Tim's girl.

But right this second, I can see the wheels turning in Tim's mind. Lucy is basing her assumption on what she's seen of him in the past.

She knew before Rachel did that he wasn't leaving LA. She didn't know about Ashley trying to pressure him into retiring, but anyone who knows Tim knows he loves patrol.

Different as this is for Lucy, I don't know if she yet realizes how different it is for him.

"Lucy-" "No, it'll be fine. Rookies leave their first station after making P2 all the time." "That's true." "So, this is the best move, right?" "Maybe, but we don't need to decide right now."

Lucy is ready to commit to this decision, and I love it for her and for Tim. Because Lucy is choosing Tim. Forget her friends, her commute, and her comraderie. In this moment, Lucy has chosen Tim. And what other woman in his life has ever done that?

It's a hard, hard decision either way, but they both are on the same page... something has to give.

And someone better do something, because there's footage all over these cameras of an Officer and Sergeant in love. Like, that could be a problem, too, if they don't get on top of it.

Tim and Lucy's Silent Approach

This is their first time in a dangerous situation together as a couple. Tim's trying to keep it straight, and so is Lucy. They have innocents to protect. This isn't earrings. This is human life.

And Tim and Lucy get the job done.

But was it harder because of their relationship? That's the question, here. Lucy already proved that Tim can't be objective because of her, but now they're looking at the other angle—what if that hadn't happened so perfectly?

"Nice work today." "You, too. It's not a bad way to end our partnership, saving a family."

First off, Tim has really embraced complimenting Lucy. Second, Lucy has fully embraced that they are no longer going to be in the same chain of command after today.

Look at her picking the lint off of his shirt, which was a classic relationship test in the series New Girl. And then she's touching him and

"Yeah, although we're still not partners. I mean, on the job, anyway."

Look at her tapping his arm in a very gentle hit. Because, now they are partners. And her adorable smile that coaxes out his loving one. Oh, these two!

"It's going to be so weird going to a different station knowing I'm not gonna to see you all day." "Yeah. And there's no guarantee that our shifts will sync up." "I hadn't thought of that. Wait. Wait, wait. So by doing the right thing, we're going to see each other a lot less?" "Most likely." "No." "Yeah."

Gosh, this is hard for them. Melissa O'Neil broke my heart with how Lucy delivered, "I hadn't thought of that". Because Lucy is often the one who has thought of everything.

But this is an area Tim knows better, and now that they're facing this reality, it kinda sucks. But note how Lucy doesn't change course. Because, much as it sucks, they both know it's the right thing to do so they can stay together.

"I'm going to put in my transfer request in the morning."

This is heart-breaking. Lucy goes to pull the bags out of the Shop, like she always does, but Tim grabs ahold of the one closest to him, waving for her to give him the other. He's carrying her burdens. And look at the way she smiles at him.

They hate that the status quo is going to have to change for them to be together. But they will be together. And that's worth it.

Meanwhile I'm screaming at the screen, "Swoop in and resign first so she can stay!"

"Got a minute." "Sure."

Well, that was fast! Tim closes the door behind him and takes a seat. He didn't even wait to get into plainclothes to have this discussion because he wants to be sure he gets there before Lucy does.

And, it's so easy to say, "Oh, there's Tim Bradford giving more, again." But he really isn't. He's giving exactly what Lucy was willing to give for him. Only this scenario is actually better for them even if it's worse for him.

Because Tim finally has a partner who gives and takes, who will hold his hand through the heartache, and call him on his bullshit, and be the one to hold him when he deals with the rolling emotions of his father finally passing. Tim finally has the love of his life. And that's worth all of this.

"I've been keeping something from you. Lucy and I started dating a few weeks ago." "I suspected as much."

No surprises here. We've always said that Grey was onto these two. But, I think he was waiting for them to come to him since it wasn't impacting anything, yet, from what he could tell.

"Sir, we wouldn't've lied, but we needed time to figure out how we felt."

Which means we've missed some scenes. Look, I know I was the first person to say that we're not going to get to see everything (and y'all fic writers are on it, I'm sure). But I don't think they needed time to figure out how they felt so much as they wanted to make sure the other was fully on the same page.

After half a season of miscommunication, Tim and Lucy are trying to get on the same page at every step. Lucy's "Lucy Lessons" illustrate that they have a ways to go, but also that she knows how to get through to Tim when needed. They've got this.

"And since we're having this talk, I assume it's serious." "It is, but for it to be appropriate, I need to move out of her chain of command."

First off, "it is." That's it. That's all Tim has to say because he has full confidence in Lucy's love. Have we ever seen him so sure? Have we ever seen him so secure in love that he will shift the course of his entire career? Of course not.

Lucy is his sun. She is "the one" that Grey once said starting over would be worth it for.

And Grey doesn't question that it only took a few weeks of dating for Tim and Lucy to get to that conclusion. He's watched them battle against one another and together. He's seen the dance as they wrestled with what they felt, and he wasn't oblivious when dancing around one another shifted into dancing together.

This isn't a "You're marrying a man you just met" scenario. Tim and Lucy have known one another in so many ways. The typical timelines and steps don't apply. Yes, Tim and Lucy are taking their time, but that's never been for lack of assurance in one another's commitment to this relationship.

And now Tim is doing what he needs to to protect that relationship... to put them first. Not Lucy first, as Tim too often has done in his relationships, minimizing himself. He's putting them first.

Grey doesn't love helping Tim with this because he knows he's losing a great Supervising Sergeant who can hold down the fort when he goes on trips to visit his daughter at University. This is going to create a giant hole in the Chain of Command.

But Grey's going to help Tim, anyway. Because, this is a man of integrity—a man who walked into this office to come clean without prodding, who wants to do the right thing, who has finally finally found love after all his heartache and loss.

Who wouldn't want to help a man like that?

"Okay. Unfortunately, there's only one position open that'll do that." "I'll take it." "It's not a great job." "Doesn't matter. I'll take it."

TIM BRADFORD. See this is what we love about Tim. When he's all-in, he's all-in. Before, it was the job. Now, it's Lucy.

He is walking away from the job he loves to get out of her chain of command and keep her from having to leave. This is such an incredible demonstration of love, and despite the Chenford scene following this one, this is the scene that has me in a choke hold.

Tim doesn't ask for a pay scale. He doesn't ask for a job description. Hell, he doesn't even know what the job is. He sees that it meets what he needs to maintain his and Lucy's integrity and not be separated from the woman he loves. That's it. That's what matters.

Some things matter more.

No, he didn't utter the line. But, he's saying it with his actions. By making this sacrifice, he's showing her that a job will never be more important than her. That his love of patrol is great, but his love of Lucy is greater.

Because, at the end of the day, he doesn't want to see Lucy only on alternating Tuesdays and bank holidays. He wants them to have time together so they can continue to build this relationship. He wants them to build a life together. And that takes time.

So, to give them the time... he takes a step back. Because this is true love, damnit.

"So, I've been thinking, Hollywood division would be kind of ideal."

I love Lucy cooking for her man. Because next time it's Tim's turn. This is something neither of them will ever do out of duty or expectation, but because they both enjoy cooking, and this is an expression of love.

Lucy has a whole meal planned out for Tim. There's salad bowls, an open bottle of wine, plates and placemats.

Second, Lucy's about to give me a Wings-style heart attack with how many candles she's lit (the place burned to the ground while the couple hooked up... it's the only episode of that show I remember).

We knew from end of Season 4 that she likes to light candles like my Dad when he was tipsy during a hurricane (so. many. candles), but last time they weren't actually considering naked time.

"Well, it's not necessary. I talked to Grey, And you're looking at the new Court Liaison Sergeant." "But that's a desk job." "Yeah. Out of your chain of command. "You'll be bored out of your mind."

First off, Lucy knows Tim well enough to know he'd never be satisfied in a desk job. She didn't even consider this job when she looked up available jobs. But he took it without looking at the job description. Because some things matter more.

"That doesn't matter. Look, you and I'll get to see each other every day. And you won't have to travel to some, I don't know, far away station where they'll make you work the midnight shift because you're the newbie."

He has a sound argument. My husband and I worked opposite schedules the first year and a half of our marriage. I worked nights and he worked days. It was awful. Building a marriage when you never seen one another is a struggle I wish upon none.

And at this angle, I FINALLY get to confirm that Tim is wearing a shirt that snaps open and closed. It's not even a button-up. He went for snaps. This man came prepared. Talk about understanding the assignment!

"Tim-" "It's done. Okay. No sense in arguing about it."

This is such a husband move. Like, we all know she was willing to be the one to go, but he jumped in first, and it means they get more time together. "Wins all around", right Lucy?

And Tim and Lucy could argue about it (because they are "worth the effort"), but it's unnecessary. What's done is done.

"But we're so good at arguing."

Lucy, now you are reminding me of the couple with the golf clubs. The horny side, I mean, not the property-destruction side. Because, YOWZA, you knew what you were doing leaning over and kissing him like that, leaving enough room for him to stand up and come to you.

Yes, I know there are pieces of tape on the floor showing them where to stand. Shhhh! I'm in Chenfordland, right now, and I'm going to give Lucy full credit for that move.

Tim slips in his "I know" before kissing her, again, practically murmuring it against her lips.

"I know. But I'm hoping that we're good at certain other things, as well."

Welp. THAT happened. I mean, how the heck am I supposed to get through this scene without taking apart every move of the hand, of the lip, of the eye, of the BELT!? Oy vey, y'all, strap in (heh), because this is gonna take a bit.

First off, Lucy's kiss when he was sitting was definitely a come-hither kiss. She's got her arms wrapped around his shoulders for balance, but also to put a little weight on him. I mean, for all we know she likes it on top, right?

As they stand up, she's already got her hands on his shirt, on his chest. She's telegraphing interest as Tim's right hand takes a trail up her thigh to her waist.

And. Look. At. His. SMILE! Tim Bradford just walked away from patrol to take a desk job, but it's all worth it because he's looking into the eyes of his love, and she's staring back at him. And now they're both ready for this next step.

Tim is glowing in the light of her love. I once likened Lucy to the sun and Tim to a star. Now, technically, a sun is a star, right? And some solar systems have more than one sun. Lucy and Tim are each other's light. Neither has ever felt this secure in a relationship. This alive.

Rachel wanted Tim to move. He didn't. Ashley wanted Tim to retire. He didn't. Chris wanted Lucy to move in. She didn't.

Three weeks in and they're both ready to walk away from the job they love for the other? In the words of How I Met Your Mother, "That's love, bitch."

"Want to find out right now?" "Yeah."

Tim's "yeah" is barely above a whisper, but it's there. I wasn't certain it would be subtitled, but I'm so glad they did!

And I love that they are both on the same page. There's no doubt or confusion about what's about to happen. Lucy invited Tim to cross another threshold with her, and he breathed that sweet "Yeah" that's peppered their conversations since they became a couple.

"Yeah" when she said she wanted to get dinner sometime. "Yeah" when acknowledging they would do the right thing but never see each other. His soft little "Yeah"s are multi-purpose.

But that breathless one just now? Oh, that takes the cake, folks!

Lucy wastes no time with Tim's shirt. Her hands were on his snaps before his mouth met hers. No wasting time, here. She starts with one snap at a time, but at the end it's like popcorn, tearing that shirt open because it is in her way.

And her little sounds as she's undressing him? Girlfriend is gone. (and I can say that, now, because I'm never going to get over Lucy Chen being Tim's girlfriend)

C'mon. When she was wiring him to go undercover as the Hit man she was totally scoping those pecs. And let's not forget Rachel's house where all the man was wearing was a towel. Lucy's seen things. Now she wants to fully appreciate them.

There's a difference between admiring artwork from afar and really getting your hands into the clay on the wheel. Lucy's done looking. It's time to get hands-on.

Tim's left hand goes for her face, but he feels the last button give. She pushes the shirt over his shoulders, and as he pulls the sleeves off, completely, Lucy is all eyes on her man.

And what I love about this is that as Lucy is appreciating every inch of Tim's chest, her hands tracing the V toward his pelvis, his eyes are watching her, drinking her in. Seeing her turned on is turning him on all the more.

Her eyes meet his, and she smiles the most serenely sexy smile. This is everything she ever wanted in a relationship, and tonight is everything she ever wanted in a last "first time".

The second he shakes that shirt lose, his lips are back on hers. Her right hand winds around his back, her other on his face. He has both hands on her face, directing each kiss with the surety Lucy once dreamt.

Tim loves to touch Lucy's face. Like the airplane bathroom and the kiss at the food truck. But this kiss is different. Instead of sweet, this is starving.

Tim is starved from his want of Lucy. Forget the dinner Lucy was making... Tonight Tim and Lucy feast on one another.

Lucy got the engine started, but Tim's the one driving, now. And like her dream of him, she's all the more turned on by him taking the lead.

He's firm, but not aggressive, as he kisses her, drinking in every taste of her mouth like it's his first drink of water after days without. Lucy is the only thing to sate his thirst.

Her hand traces his back before both hands land on his belt. She's pulling him as much as he's pushing her toward the bedroom. They walk in step together, like the hottest four-legged, sandwich-style race. Lucy giggles as they go.

Because sexy as this is, it's also still them. Tim and Lucy are enjoying themselves. And we've learned through the course of this relationship, thus far, that comes with some giggles from Lucy.

No doubt, she's built this up in her mind. They both have. But here in this moment, they aren't second-guessing or wondering. Tim's not standing before her, waiting to see if she's interested. Lucy's not thinking about the past and letting it still her.

In this moment, they are both living, breathing, and craving right now.

Tomorrow, there'll be the jobs, and the logistics, and all the other things to worry about. But in this moment, Tim Bradford and Lucy Chen are carefree save the love they carry for one another.

Every kiss is punctuated by desire fueled by love. There's echos of every other kiss they've shared—but these kisses are like breathing. In this moment, Tim and Lucy are one another's oxygen tanks, and the only way to exchange breath is to share it.

They could bee-line right to the bedroom, but Tim can't help himself. He doesn't want to wait to feel himself pressed fully against her—every curve of her body responding to his.

His right hand reaches for the door frame, so when he pushes Lucy back against it, she doesn't hit her head. In fact, his left hand is cradling her head, so it's his hand that meets his hand.

But she feels every muscle, every part of Tim pressing against her, wanting her, aching for her. With every touch of his bare skin against her skin, his taste on her lips, and his pelvis pressed against hers, her desire grows.

Her left hand winds to his neck, as though she could pull him even closer, somehow merging every part of them before they've even made it to the next layer of clothing discarded.

Tim shifts so his left hand is around her waist as she backs into her bedroom, Tim practically on top of her, not wanting to separate an inch now that he's finally here. He can feel her responding to him, and like her lips, he's growing addicted to that feeling.

Tim pushes the door most of the way closed as Lucy giggles, completely free in the wonder of his love. Locks of Lucy's hair catch the frosted glass as the door slams shut—Lucy no doubt with her back against that door (and possibly lifted up by Tim, judging on the placement of her hair in that window).

Tim Bradford once more forgetting the bed behind him because they're going to break it anyway.

Seriously. I fully expect "Lucy needs a new bed" to be a plot point. Just to see her scrolling options on her phone would be enough for me! That bed is not ready for the action it's gonna see tonight.

I have to say, I love that we can hear the scene. The music isn't overpowering this moment, and for someone like me whose ears hear everything, but can't separate if sounds are too close in decibel or pitch, that made the scene.

Back when they kissed in the airplane bathroom, we could hear the sounds of their lips. But this scene was so much sexier with all of Lucy's hums and gentle moans into his mouth. The music volume was perfect to add to the moment without distracting from it.

Fan Fic Writers... go do your thing!

And to Eric Winter, golly, I hope he wasn't too sick. Listening to how much of a voice he has in each scene and gauging shooting scheduled based on how weak it was was amusing. But, seriously, the job of an actor can be killer. Any job in the industry that involves being on-set, really.

My mom is a hair and makeup artist. She worked on a series in Wilmington in the late 90's where one of the lead actresses and she both had the flu. Didn't matter. They both had to work through. Mom has this photo of the two of them passed out on a couch together between scenes. It makes her smile, now, but it reminds me of how hard it can be.

We think about the glitz and glamor. And while that does exist, the hours alone can be a huge deterrent for any sane person. Creating art takes time, patience, and a crew of folks who sacrifice so much of their personal lives to make it happen.

If it's a good crew, it can become like family. If it's a complicated one, it can be incredibly trying to get through 18+ hour days stuck together, short turnarounds, and Fraturday schedules.

Also, I hope poor Melissa O'Neil didn't get sick from Eric Winter because of this scene. Because, golly, it's a weird job, right? I once did a shoot where I had to make-out with two separate men I'd never met before on the same day (no, it wasn't a porno). Like, you're really getting paid to do this. It's so weird.

Back to the show... There's a line in this episode that Wesley says to Angela that really sticks out for me... kind of the mantra of all the ships of The Rookie "It's not ideal, but we can handle it."

Romance in real life is messy. Too often, I see television shows go one of two ways... full on soap opera or train wreck. There are very few shows I trust with ships, even in hindsight.

The Rookie shows these very real people dealing with very real issues. Kids keeping you on a schedule that prevents you from getting any sleep. Having more kids. Shared calendars. New love and job schedules. All of that is so relatable, and it's so nice to see a show that is committed to showing people work through.

It's a detail that I really appreciate as a real person with real issues.

Anyway, if any of y'all are still alive, I want to thank you for reading. I have so much fun writing these, and the fact that people read and comment and enjoy them still blows me away. Thank you.

See you on the next!"

[solarmagickstar]

Not super into Jessie Gender, but I watched their video on "how we talk about trans men" and I've gotta say it was disappointing asf.

As a trans masc/guy I feel like I can't really have an opinion? Like for me it's like I'm too scared to be angry, like if I am it's just gonna be thrown back at me like "oh it must be those testosterone hormones coming out" or "well of course your all angry your a man" like men can't be sensitive at all or something? It's almost always said in a way to "give me euphoria" cause that's how we're supposed to treat men.

At times it really feels like we're being pushed out of queer spaces because we'll if your a guy you wouldn't wanna be a part of the marginalised group ya know cause "we're escaping to get to privilege" right?

I don't feel like our experience with gender is allowed to be expressed openly and we're absolutely not allowed to be GNC. And honestly the same could probably be said for GNC trans fems too, I don't see a lot of them either.

I feel like in Jessie gender's video they kinda didn't *actually* wanna sit with what they said originally? Like when it came to the Barbie movie I wanted to participate in the conversation of girl hood and how that's still relevant to me and how it's shaped me as the person I am today, how much I enjoyed the Ken dolls experience and how they played with masculine fashion in a way I hadn't seen in a while. But honestly I felt like well this movies for the girls so I probably shouldn't say anything.

Sometimes I wonder if we partially do this to ourselves because a lot of us keep to ourselves and don't really wanna be seen half the time. I haven't talked to the trans masc I knew since we all left Facebook, it's so lonely out here and the more I look for trans content the more I see trans fems and basically only white trans masc (with like maybe 2 poc ones but is that really all we get?) It makes me feel like I don't exist. The only places I can see poc trans masc viking or existing is on sites run by a variety of trans people or is run by a trans masc person living free.

When I see that I think, thank god your fucking real. Thank god I see someone like me thriving and existing out there.

I wanna see more of y'all, like actually see y'all, I feel like I'm fading away as more and more content keeps talking about how bad trans fems (oh and non binary but let's not define what you mean or who you're talking about we just throw them in there cause let's be more inclusive right? But only to you? Great) but the amount of trauma that's in the trans masc community is horrific and is not talked about or addressed at all.

In men's spaces there's not room for queer most of the time, so to find a place to belong and essentially get told my issues aren't as important or that trans fems ("and nonbinary" cause again you're lying to yourself by saying this even if your non-binary) then you're fundamentally missing out on our lives. I don't even feel like we have enough data on us because even the trans masc get lumped in with nonbinary or GNC like that's just fucking normal.

I remember a study was out on trans masc and GNC women about how often all of us deal with sexual assault and it's the closest I've seen and it wasn't even good findings it was depressing. I wish I could find it again. But again that study put us with GNC (pretty sure it was cis) women!

Please not this is coming from someone who's been SA'd pre and post coming out as trans. Did you know some people see us as a way to see if they're gay or bi? Like experiment on us, get us drunk and tell us we should just take it because "well you're supposed to be a man right?" We can't even get to these conversations yet and I'm worried we never will.

Do we even exist? Are we allowed to voice our opinions? Are we allowed to be mad? Are we allowed to be upset with our community? Can we do our own studies? Should we be more visible? I'm scared to, I don't wanna show my face I'm a very private person, but do I need to address that? Is that a bad thing? Is it perpetuated by my environment?

I don't know and honestly I just wanna see more variety of trans masc people, I'm scared we're just gonna stay under the radar and continue to deal with the bullshit we always have.

Ps. Jessie gender 100% did the I have a trans masc friend, no matter how much they said "I'm not doing that" they literally were doing it and there was almost no self reflection on that at all. This wasn't really the video I think they thought it was cause all it did was tell me they don't talk to us very often and that at this point I've just seen heart reacts to comments on their video's comments and not any actual responses to what anyone's said on there. It'll be a process I get it but this video was not good at all and I feel like any trans masc who's getting excited about being seen by a bigish YouTuber is like me desperate for anything validation cause that's kinda how starved we are out here tbh.

[1waveshortofashipwreck]

when you get this, answer with five mutuals you love and why! then send to five other people <3

I know what you're thinking... am I really going to tag 15 moots because I got this ask 3 times? The answer is fUCK YEAH

@dontirrigateme I'm gonna start with the one who started it all for me!! Thank you for being the one that got me into BoB and obsessing over them with me all the time 😂 you're honestly an amazing human being and I am so SO grateful I get to call you my sibling!!!

@executethyself35 ALEXI!!!! One of my number one supporters and only one I'm ok sharing Luz with!! You're an amazing human being and I love your chaotic energy 🤣

@ewipandora Ewi !!!!!!!! We don't talk enough but that doesn't mean you're not one of my fav moots to see around!!! You honestly seem like such a kind and sweet persoN WE NEED TO TALK MORE!!!!

@ithinkabouttzu Maaaaacccc!!!! I love getting to talk to you and your writing is INCREDIBLE!!! You are always so kind and encouraging and you mean the world to me!!!

@ronsparky Jess you lovely human!!! I know we don't talk a lot but seeing you in my notes always makes me smile!! Thank you for being my moot and always being so kind and supportive!!

@love--persevering VASILISA YOU GORGEOUS HUMAN!!!!!! I know we don't talk too much but it always means the world to me whenever I see your name pop up!! Thank you for always being so encouraging and kind and lovely and everything in between !!!!

@ronald-speirs MARINE!!!! We've just started talking more and I'm so glad we have!!!! You are so incredibly kind, uplifting, warm, and just all around a wonderful person!! Thank you for being my moot and I can't wait to talk to you more!!

@thicccqueyoongimin Laraaaaaaaaa!!!!! I will never forget reading your ship request and thinking "did I write this in my sleep" 🤣 I love how alike we are and how much we just vibe!!! Thank you for understanding me and my/our obsession with Winters and Liebgott 😝💖

@panzershrike-pretz PRETZ MY BELOVED!!!! You were the first person in the fandom I actually traded discords with so we could talk more!!! Thank you for always having amazing chaotic energy and also your ocs are always so cool and intricate!!!!! You're an incredibly kind and lovely human and I'm so grateful we're moots!!!!

@blueberry-ovaries Mads!!! I know we don't talk a lot but it always makes my heart happy to see you pop on my dash and in my notes!!!! You always have something nice to say and your charts/rankings give me life 🤣💕

@xxluckystrike BLU!!!!! You were one of the first people I wrote a request for!!! We don't talk a lot but we need to talk more!! You are such a kind and lovely person and it always makes me smile when I see your name pop up ❤️✨

@sweetxvanixlla Vani!!!!! I think you were the first person in the fandom to tag me in something like a tag or ask game!! I know it's silly but that first time being included just meant the world to me, thank you for being such a kind and lovely human and including me that first time 💖

@neptunes-blue Aaaaaaa my HBO War Secret Santa!!! The Winters art you made was ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE!!!!!! Thank you so much for being my moot and creating art that is just STUNNING 🥰💕❤️✨

@b00ks1ut Rachel!!! I know we don't talk a lot but seeing your name in my notes always makes me smile!!! thank you for always being kind and encouraging!! We need to talk more ❤️❤️

@hanniewinnix Ok so this is gonna be really silly but I will never forget posting the first chapter of Should've Been Born Later Nix and seeing that you reblogged it with a tag llike OMNOMNOM like it honestly made my day and just meant the world to me!!!! Thank you for always being so sweet and supportive love!!! We gotta talk more!!!!!!

Aaaaaaa I feel like I repeated a lot of adjectives but truly y'all are the kindest, sweetest, most supportive and encouraging people I've ever talked to and even if we don't talk/don't talk a lot please know I love you sosososososo much and my messages are ALWAYS open!!! 💖❤️💕🥰💝

[mattsobvimyfav]

For Sport (Matthew Sturniolo & Chris Sturniolo) PT 11

A.n - hey yall so this is gonna be a very very very slow burn I already have some chapters written so I will probs rapid fire. It will be toxic, there will be angst , smut , everything you can possibly think of. It happens.

Very short one y'all I got homework

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

y/n’s pov-

“I cant believe you two left me in biology alone!” Chris yelled dramatically as he climbed into the backseat “sorry Chris, I didn't feel good and asked Matt to bring me home” I said turning around to face him “I guess you can make it up to me sweetheart” he said winking at me, Nick rolled his eyes at Chris before speaking “Are you feeling better?” I nod at nick, “Yeah wanna read the heartfelt texts I got from Haylee today?” Nick was my go to when it came to stuff like this because he was blunt and straight up with me. I opened my phone, scrolling all the way up and handing it back to him and Chris. 

“She is such a cunt y/n, stop making excuses and cut her ass off. She's mad she has close to no friends while you have us all the time” I looked back at Nick and I knew he was right it was just hard to pull through with “I know, maybe you can help me write up something to say to her'' Nick didn't even answer just immediately started typing. “Are we going home?” Chris asked “Yes, she wants to meet mom” Matt said answering Chris “YES! Finally, the two most important women in my life are meeting” Chris said, throwing his hands over his heart. I giggled ignoring him as Matt looked over at me smiling as I returned the same smile.

We pulled up in front of a two story house, it looked homey and it reminded me of my dads house. “Im almost done, Ill be inside, leave me the keys” Nick was going in on this text, Matt turned around dropping the keys into Nicks lap as Nick continued and us three got out of the car “Come on y/n'' Chris grabbed my wrist running up towards the house. “MOM! Come out we have a surprise for you” He yelled as soon as we made it through the doors Matt followed behind.  A shorter lady came out around one of the corners “Oh! You must be y/n!” She said as a smile spread across her face and she opened her arms coming towards me, “Yes, it is so nice to meet you Mary-Lou!” I said, wrapping my arms back around her “The boys talk about you non-stop, are you staying for dinner?” I didn't think she'd ask but it seemed better than going home and eating alone. “If you will have me, I would love to” We separated and she continued “Oh of course! Where is your brother? Did you leave him at school again?” She asked looking around for Nick “I’m right here, here you go y/n proof read it before sending it” He handed me my phone back and hugged his mom “Well y/n make yourself right at home. I am going to get started on dinner. Jimmy should be home soon!” I smiled, thanking her sitting down on the couch before reading the message Nick had typed for me. 

I've been thinking a lot lately, and I need to be straight with you. Things between us just aren't working out like they used to. It's been tough, but I've realized that our friendship isn't making either of us happy anymore.I've been feeling kind of down after we hang out, and I've noticed some stuff that's been bugging me. I don't want to feel this way, and I don't want you to feel bad either. So, I think it's time for us to take a step back and go our separate ways for a bit.I want you to know this isn't easy for me to say, but I gotta put my own mental health first. I hope you can understand where I'm coming from. I still care about you and wish you all the best, but I think it's best for both of us if we take a break from our friendship.

I could tell this is not how Nick wanted to go about it but he knew I would not want to be rude to her. I struggled for a minute before Chris reached over my shoulder behind the couch and pressed send. I threw my phone over to the other side of the couch “CHRISTOPHER” I yelled before getting up and chasing him around the couch till I finally caught him pushing him on the couch and getting on top of him hitting him “STOP PLEASE” He yelled. I got off as Matt ascended out of the bathroom, “lets watch some TV.” I nodded as Matt and Chris sat around me. We ended up watching some stupid reality tv show.

“Dinner!” Mary-Lou yelled from the kitchen, both the boys got up booking it to the kitchen as I walked in behind them “I forgot what it was like having someone POLITE in this house” She said referring to the boys already stuffing their face with the pasta around the table “Mom is it alright if y/n spends the night” She nodded her head back and forth “Of course she can, I like her much more than the Maddy girl you brought over here” I basically broke my neck looking at Matt as he stared down at his plate wide eyed “Oooooh shit mom, you don't even know what you just started” Chris said laughing “Why what did I do” She asked looking at me and the boys “Well Maddy is very rude to y/n because she thinks y/n likes Matt and at the party last week y/n bitched Maddy out it was GREAT!” Nick said, explaining the story I looked down in embarrassment as I didn't want her to think I was some mean girl “Good, she was very disrespectful. She tried to sit on Matthew right at the dinner table, strange girl” Matt now had his hands covering his face “How long ago was this?” I asked her with a cute smile “Oh Sunday night.” I felt gross, right at that moment I could've gotten sick, I literally just finished him off and now his mom is telling me how the girl I hate was on his lap. I don't know why I keep expecting anything different. Matt looked over at me across the table as I played with the food on my plate as my phone lit up with about ten texts from Haylee. This couldn't be the worst time.

Tag-

@worldlxvlys@iluvm4ttsturni0l0@larnieboox88 @orangeypepsi@maryx2xx

[lewmagoo]

ohh, gosh i have so many! i really want to highlight @roosterforme - she never misses and is so consistent with uploading content and creating stories that has you hooked! I also want to say I adore everything @jupitercomet puts out? how on earth are they so creative? I don't know, but her ideas literally never miss? and they're also a goose babe so like I gotta stan!! no but seriously, their under the hard deck universe is incredible, and the way they world-build and uses the environment to flesh out their characters is so!!! talented and amazing! @hangmanssunnies - y'all know i'm such a sap for their stories. their bradley fic "inconcievable!" had me in tears for days on end. and you all know i've never been the same since i read their incredible "house we share" featuring my baby boy neurodivergent!jake! another person who really delves deep into the emotional aspects of their characters and stories is @sebsxphia! reading their stories will awaken so many feelings, if it's horror, angst, smut, fluff - they do it all and they do it so so so well!! always raising the bar for all of us <3 @laracrofted crafts the most vivid original characters, and they are so interesting and well rounded it makes you yearn for more in the best way!! @seresinsweetie always has creative ideas, well thought out storylines, and just writes both bradley and jake in a way that makes me want to sob because they're not mine??? @delopsia never fails to make you gasp with their intricate stories, their well thought out plot and their originality and creativity - they are one of the few i trust my darling rhett with wholeheartedly - and i'm always amazed by their character analysis and how they mould and shape the slutty cowboy into a man of depth!!! amazing!! @ryebecca always blesses us with the most beautiful moodboards and visuals<33 they're so talented and you can tell a lot of thought and time goes into their craft! and of course my darling - you! you who write such vivid stories, full of lore, details, world building and incredible character studies. every time i think "wow, leah can't top this!" and then you do!!! every time!!! i am so blessed i get to take part in your creative process, and get to spitball ideas so regularly<3 i treasure it so much!

oh alex my beloved 🥺 this community would not be the same without you

[genericpuff]

Same anon as before talking about writing stuff and worrying about if people will find it (but not the same anon as the other asks before that) - I think many people who are budding writers and artists have these concerns and bring them to you because you A). Are a creator yourself so you know what you're talking about in a verified sense and B). Idk about other anons but some of us (like me) take your reasoning (and critique) in regard to writing seriously because of your experience and how you analyze stuff such as LO.

I think at least some of us (again I can't speak for everyone nor can I or should I) wants to make sure they're not making mistakes such as the ones RS does in writing.

Also I might just take you up on your offer of Zelda fanfic - I do so love LoZ 😅.

ugh god, am I y'all's role model now or smthing? why would you do that to yourself (ㆆ_ㆆ)

okay but jokes aside, obviously people can't help who they look up to and I'm not gonna be a dick if y'all look up to my work and what I do here, just remember also that you're not obligated to agree with everything I say or take it to heart, you also shouldn't take my analysis of LO and how it's written/drawn personally because so much of that analysis is within the VERY specific definitions in which LO exists, definitions that don't really apply to many other webtoons on the platform. If there's anything I say or criticize LO for that speaks to you and your own work on a certain level, try not to take it as a direct personal attack towards you and more just like... if the things I'm saying about LO feel like they apply to your work, take it as advice for improving your own craft.

Or don't! You can literally ignore me and do what you were gonna do anyways. I literally cannot take that away from you and you absolutely shouldn't let me. I have no real power over anyone here, that's what I mean when I say I'm just a guy participating in their hyperfixation so don't feel like you gotta take me too seriously lmao

Also, yeah, okay, I'm a webcomic creator myself, but to put myself on the cross for once - I've never succeeded at this gig. Rekindled is the most consistent audience I've had in years, I think the last time my work was in a banner rotation was in 2015 (and it wasn't on WT), and I somehow make something like $20/month off Patreon. I've had small victories along the way, it hasn't been all bad, but this isn't my living and chances are low I'll ever find mass success with it. Everything I said about not taking my opinion too seriously because I'm just a random Internet guy applies to people like Rachel as well, while I criticize her work on the basis of it being a commercial product that should know better and I DEFINITELY harp on her for a lot of shit, at the end of the day she's in no way obligated to pay even a second of attention to me because she's made way more money in webcomics in the last 2-3 years than I could ever dream of making in the 10 years I've been doing this, that's something I can't take away from her and that was never the goal when it came to discussing her work. All I have to show for my own efforts is experience and rhetoric, and a few odd readers who have been around so long I wonder why they even still follow me LOL I am your typical "can never live up to the success of those who they criticize" chronically online shitposter. I don't think I should have to be on Rachel's level to be able to discuss her work, mind you, that's half the function of an audience to begin with, but it's not like I have any real legitimacy in this industry that you should worry about what I have to say. It's not like I'm capable of robbing Rachel of her awards or the money she's made lol

And by all means, go ahead and look for my fanfiction stuff, but I'm not providing any eye bleach because I wrote it when I was like, 13 years old, so search at your own risk lmao

(and if you do find it, no you didn't （︶^︶）/hj)