#i just see it in my head and it won't leave

[a-b-riddle]

Part Four

Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.

"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.

"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."

"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.

"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."

You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.

"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.

Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.

It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.

It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.

In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.

"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."

"You think it was a stunt?"

"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."

"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."

"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."

"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."

"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."

You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.

You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.

"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”

For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.

Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?

"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.

You were finally angry.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇!

Pairing: Firefighter!Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Toji tries to be the best father he can to his baby boy

Warnings: Fluff

*This isn't finished and it probably won't be but do enjoy what I did end up writing🥹🫶 I'll do a different AU for firefighter Toji

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Toji!” You call out for your husband, wondering why he isn’t in bed. You approach the nursery, and that’s where you find your husband putting his finger under his son’s nose to check if he’s breathing. You never thought that you’d find Toji of all people doing this, but he really is doing everything he can to make sure the baby is breathing, while also making sure he doesn’t wake Megumi up.

Even after six months of having Megumi, Toji makes this part of his nightly routine. Megumi’s tiny stomach very visibly rises and falls, so there’s no need for Toji to be doing all of this. But Toji’s scared, and a new parent, so he still does.

He shushes you before you even dare speak too loud, you better not wake up the baby. You roll your eyes, a chuckle leaving your lips as you walk back to your bedroom, and your husband follows behind not too shortly after. 

“I love seeing you worry about the baby, but don’t you think you’re doing too much?” You ask him as you get in bed. Toji takes off his shirt before getting into bed right next to you. He pulls you into his warm embrace and kisses the top of your head. “Please tell me you turned off the alarm.”

“I have to get up and check up on him.” He responds, and you would laugh if you weren’t affected by it. Toji’s alarm wakes you up, and it’s annoying to be constantly woken up in the middle of the night. 

“Toji, you’re also really tired. If Megumi needs anything, he’ll cry.” You assure him, but Toji won’t listen to any of it. You understand him better than anybody since you’re also a new parent, but you already have to wake up to feed the hungry baby in the middle of the night, you don’t need to be woken up four other times by Toji.

“I still want to make sure he’s okay. What if he’s just sitting in his crib, waiting for daddy to come?” Toji asks, and you let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re so right, Toji. But can you please go to the couch? I need to rest because I actually have to wake up and feed him.” You tell him, and Toji groans before letting go of you and sitting up on the bed. 

“You don’t mean it.” He says as he grabs his pillows. He drags his feet as he walks to the door, waiting for you to stop him. You hate to sleep without Toji but you’re tired and you don’t want to be woken up multiple times in the night for no reason.

“Close the door on your way out!” You yell at him, getting comfortable in your space. You want to go one night without interrupted sleep, and you hope tonight is that night. As much as it sucks to sleep without Toji, you need at least one night of good sleep. You hate to hurt his feelings, but you’re also too tired to care.

“Look here, Megumi!” You put on your baby voice as you talk to your son, attempting to get him to look at your phone camera. Megumi doesn’t care though, he’s looking away, kicking his feet and yelling for the dog. He’s opening and closing his little fist in the direction of the dog, he can’t make it more clearer what he wants. “C’mon, baby, I want to send your father a cute picture.”

He keeps ignoring you, yelling to the dog. You watch the dog walk toward you and the baby, so you pick Megumi up from his play mat before the dog can lick the baby’s face. You take Megumi back to your bedroom, hoping that once you put him down on your bed, you can finally take the picture that you want to send to your husband. 

You put him down on the bed, and just as you open the phone camera to take the perfect picture before he can look away, you receive a call. Toji is calling to facetime, which is perfect timing. You accept it, immediately flipping the camera to put the attention on the baby.

“Oh my god, is that my cute little urchin wearing a sailor outfit?” Toji isn’t the type to fawn over this type of stuff, or so he thought. Toji has grown soft, in his own ways at least, for his baby boy. He’s laughing, calling his coworkers over to show off his baby. Yup, Toji has become that person.

Toji just loves being a father, he was scared that he wouldn’t. He knows some parents love their kids to death but don’t like being a parent at all– Luckily for him, that isn’t the case. He loves the fact that he’s teaching this little human the basics of how to live while also filling him with love. He loves it so much that he’s almost about to ask you for a second baby.

“You look tired.” You tell him when he stops showing off Megumi to everyone, flipping the camera on you. Toji is barely getting any sleep, even though you keep pushing him to get rest. 

“I’m fine.” He replies, and before you can argue with him, he changes the topic to more important manners, “Show me the baby, I miss him.”

“I was just showing you the baby.” You roll your eyes but you still turn the camera so Toji can watch his baby boy. 

“Megumi! Look at the phone.” Toji says, noticing how Megumi looks away. Megumi is stretching. Your hand goes to his tummy, tickling it which causes the baby to look back at you and giggle. It fills Toji up with immense joy but also regret that he can’t always be by Megumi’s side to experience it all.

Until he hears a sound you both dread, something that makes the loudest sigh leave your lips. That part is the only thing he hates about being a father. 

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” You hang up the phone before Toji can even mutter a goodbye, picking up the baby and taking him to the changing table.

You realize that in the past six months, you haven’t had any proper alone time with him. You’re both too focused on being the best parent to Megumi, that you’ve completely put your relationship on the side. He’s put everything on hold, even his own health, to be there for Megumi whenever he’s free. 

You miss him, and while you knew that your life would completely change the moment Megumi came along, you didn’t expect to be so separated from him. You want to get Megumi off your hands for a couple of hours so you can spend some nice alone time with Toji, without having him worry about Megumi needing something. 

It’s hard to get Megumi off your hands, especially when he’s so attached to you. He’s also a crybaby which certainly doesn’t help your case. 

“Do you want to go see your daddy soon?” You ask your son, picking him up from the changing table. It’s not like he can answer, so you take his coo as a yes. You need to arrange something with the help of a couple of people, and who’s better for this than some of Toji’s coworkers?

“Fushiguro! You have some visitors here!” Toji hears from the kitchen, and he raises his brows, wondering who’s looking for him. When he walks into the kitchen, his heart skips a beat at the sight of his wife and son. Toji practically runs to your side when he sees you, pecking your lips before he takes Megumi from your arms.

“What are you two doing here?” Toji’s happiness radiates off his voice. Out of all things, he didn’t expect you and his son to come visit, but here you are. Toji kisses Megumi’s chubby cheek, while the baby’s hand grips the collar of his dad’s shirt.

“Just wanted to visit daddy for a bit since you’re always complaining about not spending enough time with Megumi.” You give him your best smile before you catch a glimpse of the woman that you came here to talk to. You squeeze Toji’s forearm before telling him, “I have to talk to Yuki, I’ll be right back.”

“Huh?” Toji furrows his brows but ultimately he doesn’t care because he has his baby boy in his arms and Megumi is trying to shove his hand into Toji’s mouth. He often wishes he could trade places with you– Toji loves his job but the moment Megumi took his first breath, he became Toji’s first priority. His favorite person; and you, of course. 

“Yuki, can we talk?” Your voice comes off as a whisper, and she raises her brows. A smirk comes to her lips before she lets out,

“Are we getting another mini Toji?” She’s rather loud, and you feel your face burn. You look absolutely mortified, and she bursts into laughter. She nudges her head to the table and begins to walk to it, making you follow behind. She pulls out a chair for you, but you shake your head since you don’t really have plans of staying for long. “What’s up?”

“You’re the person here that I trust the most… And you’re great with baby Megumi.” You bring up, and you feel yourself dragging it out. She knows, but she waits for you to say it, tapping her finger on the table as she waits for you to ask the question. “Can you take care of Megumi on Friday? I want to go out with Toji.”

“Man… I don’t know, I’m not that great with kids.” She responds, and you know it’s a lie, at least from what you’ve seen she’s great with Megumi. You’re willing to argue just about anything because you want to get Megumi off your hands for a night. 

“Really? Baby Megumi adores you.” You claim, which isn’t a lie, but Megumi likes just about anyone. “It’s a way for baby Megumi and his favorite auntie to get closer.”

She laughs, she knows what you’re doing, but she doesn’t mind. She has Friday off and has no important plans so she might as well try to figure out what goes on in a baby’s mind. She ends up saying, “As long as I don’t have to take him anywhere, I’m not sure how I’d work a carseat on a motorcycle.”

“Of course! If anything comes up you can call me and we’ll be at home within minutes.” You answer excitedly, and before you run in search for Toji, and even though he was just in the kitchen, he’s nowhere near the place when you look for him.

“Toji!” You call out for him, unsure of where he went with the baby. The firehouse is a big place, you sure aren’t going to look in every room. 

“Check the fire truck!” You hear from Yuki, and you roll your eyes at the mere suggestion. She’s not looking at it, you’re not going to entertain it– But she also knows Toji and that sounds like something he’d do. You stop in your tracks and let out a sigh before going to the firetruck. 

You walk over to the driver’s side, opening the door to find Toji putting Megumi’s hands on the wheel– A sight you find the most hilarious since Toji made it his mission to put a firefighter hat on the baby’s head; but you notice it’s smaller, leading you to assume that Toji bought this just for him and kept it hidden until now.

“Look, honey, Megumi told me he wanted to be just like his daddy when he grew up.” Toji chuckles, moving Megumi’s hands on the wheel which Toji finds hilarious. Megumi doesn’t find it as funny though. 

“Baby, he can barely sit up. Try it again in a few more months.” You say as you take the baby from his arms, and Toji clicks his tongue. He follows behind you as you walk back to the kitchen to take the diaper bag and go back to your car.

“Why are you leaving so soon?” He asks, annoyed that you’ve given him his baby and taken him away just as quickly.

“We just came to say hi and talk to Yuki, and since we’ve done that, we can go home now.” You respond. The man is pouting, something that you never thought you’d see from a man as big as Toji. When you have the diaper bag in your possession, you peck his lips, “Go save lives, baby.”

“What did you need to talk to Yuki about?” Toji questions, wondering what was so important that you decided to come all the way here.

“Babysitting, we’re going out on Friday.” You tell him, and his brows perk up. He’d think that would be more of a question instead of a statement, but it’s the latter. “You can’t say no, we haven’t had some proper alone time in months.”

“I wasn’t going to say no.” He mutters, crossing his arms and looking at the ground like a child. He was going to say no, and you can’t help but chuckle. Your hand goes under his chin and you begin to inspect his face.

“You’re also turning off those alarms to get proper rest. I think you’re annoying Megumi too by constantly coming into his room to invade his space.” And before he can argue with you, you leave him alone to share his thoughts with himself.

He guesses you're right.

[zyafics]

play fake | part eight

series play fake — ( masterlist )

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a gf in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

content 18+, eventual smut, angst, fake-dating, jealousy, people-pleasing and independent! female reader, ward cameron pinning rafe and sarah against each other, rafe being an asshole

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚

Laid out on the edge of a heavenly bed, a rustling stirs you awake.

You blink through the thinly-streamed sunlight casting into the room and adjust your vision, trying to decipher where you are.

Rafe stands in front of his closet, shirtless, searching through to find something to wear. When you lift your head off the pillow, groggy sounds escaping your lips, he turns his head. 

"Shit, did I wake you?" He asks, brows furrowed together.

"Are you going somewhere?" You respond, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. "Should I go home?"

Last night, after you accepted Rafe's invitation to stay over at Tannyhill, you didn't do anything other than shower, take a Plan B, and go to sleep. It was a long day and when Rafe shuffled into his sheets, you pulled yourself to the ledge of the mattress. It wasn't done out of separation, but because of an unusual habit you developed as the sole provider for your sisters. You always stay close enough to the edge that, if any problems arise in the middle of the night, you have the fastest exit.

Rafe shakes his head, rounding the bed to approach your side. He can't believe how pretty you are, even just waking up, fresh-faced with no makeup. His chest buzzes with an indescribable feeling.

"It's fine," he declares. "I'm about to head out to brunch with my dad. We have to talk through some things that happened last night."

You don't miss the grimace in his tone.

Frowning, you offer, "do you want me to come?"

Honestly, Rafe would love that. Having you by his side while he’s conversing with his father would ground him. Because he knows, if Ward Cameron sees him as incompetent and expandable, at least with you, he isn’t. 

"You have nothing to wear."

You glance down at your sleepwear, a borrowed shirt from Rafe's closet that cuts mid-thigh, and realize he's right. It wasn't like you packed an overnight bag and your only options are to reuse the gown from last night or your bartender work attire.

There is Sarah's closet but after Rafe's whole conflict with his sister returning, you'd rather not put it on the table.

"Right." You drawl, pressing your lips together while you consider alternatives. "You could drop me off at my house. I can change."

He shakes his head, concealing a rising smile at your determination to attend. "Not enough time."

"What time is it?"

"A quarter after eleven. I have to meet him there by noon."

He's right. The drive to The Cut is going to take most of that time.

"I'll be fine." Rafe declares. "I've handled him for the past twenty-three years. I can handle a few hours."

You nod, saying nothing. What could you say? You're taking Rafe's words at face value and if he believes he can go into this meeting without having another destructive conversation, then you can only believe him.

"I should go then." You throw the comforter off your body, the coldness of the morning breeze sends a shiver down your spine. Your legs drape off the ledge. "Since you won't be here."

"No." Rafe asserts suddenly, causing you to stop in your tracks. "I'll be back. Just hang out here."

He doesn't want you to leave. Whatever conversation he'll have with his father, it would either settle on a concession or a bad ending. Rafe already mentally prepared the layout of his day and he knows he'll need you after. To talk. To comfort. To be here with him.

"Alone?" You confirm, the idea is scandalous to your ears. "In your mansion? Aren't you afraid I'm going to steal something of yours?"

You're playing into Pogue stereotypes, testing if Rafe trusts you enough.

"You wouldn't." He shakes his head with confidence and you still don't have your answer.

“You don’t know that.” You challenge with a tease. “I saw some things downstairs I would like to take home. If I just swipe them when you leave…” Your voice trails off when Rafe settles in front of you, both arms pressed on either side of your hips and he levels down his face to be inches away from yours. 

"I could just buy them for you."

Your heart sputters. You stare back at him, admiring his freshly-clean look with a faint scent of aftershave. He looks handsome. His blue eyes set on you, captivating and waiting. For a brief moment, you could see yourself letting him in. 

You expel an awkward laugh. ‘Yeah, right,” you hit his shoulders, trying to create some distance between the two of you, but it doesn’t work. The touch only further the buzz within you, stirring something from the pit of your stomach. “Like I would let you.” 

"But you'd rather steal?"

You shrug, needing to look away, pretending to admire a thread you found on his sheets. "What did I tell you that day in Topper's house?"

He hazily recounts the details. The night when you came and propositioned him. Where he got into a fight with a stranger for harassing you. Where you patched him up.

"I only remember you on my lap."

You scoff, turning back to him. "Of course you would." 

You make a move to stand, but Rafe lays a hand on your hips, keeping you in place.

"What?" You ask breathlessly, despite the limited movement.

“You promised you were going to ride me.” He recalls lowly, pushing the fabric of his tee up your thighs and creating goosebumps in its wake. “You don’t have makeup on.”

Shaky breaths leave you, trying to remain in control. But you know you’re losing it with every light caress Rafe is giving you, igniting the heat between your legs. “Are you always this horny in the morning?”  

"Just for you, sweetheart."

Your mind is warping and you fumble for excuses.

"I have morning breath."

"We don't have to kiss."

"You have a meeting in less than an hour."

"We'll be quick."

With a huff, you retort. "Do you always have an answer for everything I say?"

He chuckles. "I know you now."

You're afraid he truly does.

Your lips part when his hand cups the underside of your jaw, tilting your gaze to meet his. His eyes scans over your features, reading how willing you are, and mumbles. "That's my girl."

Your skin buzzes with his praise, and Rafe goes to remove your shirt—his shirt that you’re wearing, the sight of which drives him insane—and exposing your bare tits and panties underneath. No matter how many times he sees you naked, it amazes him every time. That it’s him that gets to see you this way. That it’s him who gets to touch you. 

"Fuck." He whispers, sinking to his knees as his hands spread your legs apart. He wants nothing more than to sink in you, but he wants to please you first. Lowering, Rafe kisses the base of your knee to your inner thighs. "You're so fucking gorgeous."

It's things like this that make your head spin. Not the mind-blowing sex—no, that's a plus—but his words. The little acts. You don't know whether to trust them because mostly, he only utters them when you're intimate. You know how different it can be afterwards.

His fingers go under the band of your underwear and take them off with your assistance. 

"Such a pretty pussy." His thumb traces up and down your slit, collecting your arousal and causing you to buckle from his slow, teasing touch.

"Rafe." You warn. "The time."

He glances over his shoulders to the digital clock sitting on his dresser and turns back to you with a smirk. "How about you watch it and tell me how I'm doing?"

"You have a meeting soon."

"Baby, you really don't want to rush me." He declares, moving closer and pushing your legs onto his shoulders. His tongue lightly grazes your cunt, causing you to bite down on your bottom lip. "I wanna enjoy this."

Rafe flattens his tongue, performing languid strokes as your fingers threads through his hair. You arch into his face when he sucks on your clit, his fingers entering you in simultaneous thrusts. Your eyes flutter close from the sensation.

"You taste so good, baby, I could have you for breakfast every morning." He mumbles against your opening, the vibration of his rasps elevates the pleasure and aids you towards your climax.

When you come on his face, Rafe guides you through your release and when he pulls back, he checks the clock. "Not bad, huh?"

You shake your head softly, a dazed smile on your lips. "I bet I can do better."

"Yeah?"

You push yourself forward to remove his sweatpants, the outline of his bulge prominent, and while you tease him with light traces on his lower abdomen, the sound of a ringtone interrupts you.

Rafe moves over to the dresser where his phone sits and answers the call from his father. "Yeah?" He greets, listening to what Ward has to say. "You said twelve."

Another exchange is made before Rafe ends, and when he does, he rolls his eyes, agitation evident on his features. "I have to go. My dad is moving up the time."

You smother the aching disappointment and nod. "Okay," you say, picking up your panties from the floor and sliding them over your hips. You glance over to the door, contemplating your own exit. He notices. 

"I'll be back, alright?" Rafe reaffirms, coming over to plant a gentle kiss on your temple and your body leans into his touch. "Just stay."

While you wait for Rafe to explain, you take a tour around the estate. Midway through your exploration of family portraits and expensive winery around the kitchen, you receive a phone call from the babysitter. 

"Hello?" You answer, while the babysitter is scrambling to produce coherent words. "Wait, wait, slow down. What's going on?"

She doesn't explain much, informing you to get home immediately and hangs up. Your heart sputters by the sudden disconnect and you race to Rafe's bedroom to collect your things before ordering a rideshare. When you hop in, your leg restlessly taps on the floor of the car while you check the battery on your phone.

You're imagining the worst possible scenarios. Something happened to your sisters. They got injured. One of them is in the hospital. The other is missing. Or, somehow, the house caught on fire and now, you're homeless.

When you reached your destination, the car didn't halt to a full stop before you hopped out, running down the driveway to the familiar, unscathed house. That calms your mind for a moment.

Before you realize it's something much worse.

"Aaron." You murmur, shoulders tense as your eyes widen, recognizing the tall dark-haired man standing in front of your door, talking to the babysitter who's blocking the entryway. He turns his head at your arrival, eyes cascading down your body before meeting your gaze.

"Y'know, you've been a hard woman to find." He chuckles to himself, the sound making all the hair on your body stand up. Aaron pushes himself off the beam of your porch. "Where you been?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest. You glance over to the babysitter to signal her and she reenters the house and barricades the door. Inhaling a sharp breath, you try to calm yourself.

"What are you doing here?"

He tsk. "Wrong answer. I asked you first."

"I know I'm late—"

"I don't wanna hear excuses." He holds out his hand, flexing the various dark ink crawling up his forearms. "I just want an answer."

His voice is calm. Too calm. It's scaring you.

"I've been busy. Business been slow—"

"Is that not an excuse I'm hearing?" He says, stepping closer to you. You can see the outline of his gun tucked under the band of his pants and your breath shortens. "Where have you been?"

With your heartbeat in your throat, you don't know what answer you can give to satisfy him. So, you remain silent.

When Aaron realizes that, he tilts his gaze out into the driveway with a huff. "I heard you been running around with a Kook," he states, matter-of-fact, and you can smell the faint stench of nicotine wafting from his clothes. "Was that him?"

He's referring to your rideshare driver. You shake your head frantically. "No. But, I swear to you, I'll get you your money if I have more time."

He scoffs in disbelief, turning back and ignoring your pleas. His dark eyes find the pendant wrapped around your neck and he lets out a cold chuckle. "And he's been giving you some real nice gifts, too."

Fuck, this isn't a good look for you. Your panic is skyrocketing and you resist the strongest urge to hide the expensive jewelry behind your palm.

"Aaron." You begin again, your voice shifting to desperation. "I just need a little bit more time. This doesn't mean—"

He holds out another hand. "Look, I've been a nice guy. Wouldn't you say so?" He prompts, tilting his head, and when you don't answer, he adds. "I mean, what kind of person would lend you thirty grand? I consider that pretty generous, right?"

You swallow hard, your throat dry. "Right."

"And I've done nothin' yet to make you not trust me otherwise, right?"

You hesitate with a shaky breath, your knees buckling. "Right."

"So, all I'm asking is to return the gesture and give me back my money. I help you, you help me, that's how this relationship works, right?"

"Aaron, I—"

"If you interrupt me one more time, I'll cut out that fucking tongue."

You let out a small whimper, silencing yourself. Both hands tucked behind your back. He smiles at your submission, dark eyes gleaming in pride. "Good."

Aaron draws closer, stopping just in front of you. His grimy fingers trails down the length of your neck, following the chain of your necklace, before grabbing the pendant between his fingers and ripping it off. The clasp breaks and a gasp leaves your lips.

With his other hand, he seizes the back of your neck.

"Three days." He threatens, the grip piercing into your skin. "I'm givin' you three more days and if you can't pay me back by then, I won't be such a nice guy anymore."

He waves the dangling necklace in front of your face. "I'll keep this as collateral."

You're shaking under his touch and he notices, smiling crudely, before he does another sweep of your exposed body. "And y'know, there's other ways of paying me back."

Aaron finally releases you, and you stumble away from him with a few steps. The dark-haired man descends off your porch and disappears on his bike, leaving you trembling at the foot of your door.

You don't move for the next few minutes. Your mind is occupied with everything going on, that when you slip into your house, you run on autopilot.

You pay the babysitter, patting her back as a silent gratitude for her assistance and protection, and gather your sisters onto the couch, holding them close. Hugging them tight. Trying to use their heartbeats to calm yours.

The rest of the night is spent with them. They wanted to watch a movie and you pulled out an old disk of their favorite films. With that on, they quickly fall asleep on your shoulders and you carry them to their bedroom.

That's when the real work begins.

Spending the rest of your time on the kitchen island, devising a plan, you hear a knock at your door.

Afraid that the loan shark had returned to make a second visit, you hoped it would go away, only for the sound to grow more intense and adamant. Your fear spikes and you were afraid he was going to do something much worse if you didn't answer. When you approached the front door, you held your breath.

Only to find a blond.

"Where were you?" Rafe demands, his expression unreadable but his words are cold. It rubs you the wrong way, reminding you too closely of Aaron.

You can't handle it. You attempt to shut the door, only for Rafe to stick his foot between the crack and push back.

"What the fuck? What are you doing?" Rafe enters into your house, his eyes searching the place for anything out of the ordinary, anything you would hide from him, before his gaze lands on you.

You cross your arms protectively over your chest, thinking this is another one of his outbursts. "Rafe, I don't have time right now. Whatever you're pissed off about, you have to wait—"

"I came home and you were gone."

That quiets you.

"Your shit was gone. Even your mess from the bathroom was wiped clean." He recounts, struggling to conceal the vulnerability seeping through his words with each reveal. "You didn't even leave a note."

Your mind is muddled. You didn't realize it would affect him this much and something about the act endears you. You were so frantic, trying to figure out how to get home before your phone dies, that you forgot your own commitment to Rafe.

"Say something." He urges.

"What happened?" You ask softly, discovering your answer when his expression twists. Like he doesn't want to think about it. You don't want to think about your problems either. "I assumed you would go to a party."

You say that because, if Rafe didn't have you conveniently-located at his disposal, he would return to his own vices. It stings him that you still thought of him as his former image, but he couldn't completely fault you because he did—he went to one of the island's parties and came out still feeling empty.

Rafe's jaw locks as he stares at you, breathing heavily. Taking you in. How just the sight of you seems to soothe him. He doesn't know how to explain it, when the tides changed, but it did. The fact that he's here, in this rundown house in the middle of The Cut after a blowout with his father, all because he misses you says it all.

"I don't want to talk." He declares firmly, the resoluteness of his tone shocks you. "Not now. But I will, after, if that's what you want."

You draw your brows together. "What are you getting at, Rafe?"

Rafe swears under his breath. These words, these feelings are difficult to him. It's uncomfortable and unwanted and all it makes him want to do is resort back to his anger, something comfortable he can express himself in. But he can't. Not with you.

"I don't want that shit anymore. I just wanna fuck you."

Your lips part. "What?"

Unintentionally, the natural response came with a tone of hurt but you disguise it well. You recognize your own feelings in that precise moment. When you got into this relationship with Rafe, you knew nothing he does is out of the sincerity of his heart. It's a committed act. A performance of a perfect boyfriend.

Yet, it breaks your heart. How you manage to fall for him, despite knowing everything he does is fake. Even now, standing before you, he's admitting his clear intentions and you can't help but envision another meaning.

It can destroy you, this hope, only if you let it. You'd rather let the clear lines be drawn. If Rafe is telling you he wants to use you for sex, so be it. You won't ask for anything else.

When your silence becomes deafening, Rafe abandons his last shred of pride.

"Please."

You inhale sharply, evening your words. You can detach too. "Ask me."

His large hand tucks under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. "Can I use you?"

"Yes."

The confirmation was all he needed before his lips slams into yours. His hands lowers to capture your ass and as a signal, you jump, wrapping your legs around his waist. Rafe moves through the hallway and towards your bedroom, kick-opening the door, causing the doorknob to smash into your wall with a loud thump.

You pull back from the kiss. "Don't break my house."

"I'll pay for that."

Rafe drops you onto the bed and pulls off his shirt you took from Tannyhill. His movements are skilled and hurried, needing to see you, to taste you. He kisses down your neck, to the curve of your shoulders, before finding himself between the valley of your breasts. His mouth covers a nipple.

You tip your head back with a moan, reveling in the way his tongue twirls around the metal barbell, igniting your nerves. Rafe rocks against your spread legs and you feel his bulge teasing your core. "Rafe, please."

"What did I tell you about rushing me?" He murmurs against your skin. "I'm trying to enjoy this."

The challenge hangs in the air and when Rafe gives both of your tits equal attention, he pulls back to admire the sight of your hard nipples wet and glistening. Tilting his gaze up to you, he palms a breast in his hand.

"I'm going to be rough." He announces. "Tell me if it hurts."

Your heart swells from the gesture but you wish he would just do it without caution. It'll be easier to separate your feelings.

Leaning forward to capture a kiss, you breathe into his mouth. "You said use me, right? Then use me."

His eyes darken. "Don't say something you'll regret."

"Then make me regret it."

You're exactly what he needs.

Rafe wastes no more time and strips out of his clothes, his cock springing free from his boxer, all red and swollen. You can't help but feel a pang of pity, remembering how he had to leave this morning without release.

Reaching out to cup him, he snatches your wrists in one hand. "What do you think you're doing?"

You pout. "I'm helping you."

"Did I tell you to?" His words are commanding, shifting to a state that leaves no room for arguments. You swallow hard, feeling a thrill passing through you at his control. "Are you going to be a good girl tonight and do as you're told?" 

You nod.

"I need words, sweetheart."

"Yes." You say desperately and Rafe releases you.

Pushing you back against the mattress, he pulls you to the ledge and removes your shorts and panties. When you're open and dripping for him, he thrusts into you without warning.

"Shit," you let out a cry. Rafe pushes the back of your thighs into a bend, your kneecaps beside your ears, and this new position gives him access to enter deeper.

"Fuck, I needed this." He moans, burying in ecstasy at the way you wrap perfectly around him. "Why would I ever want to go to another fucking party when I can have this every night?"

You can't answer him, too lost in the initial pain that quickly fades into your credence of pleasure. Moans escape you, elevating in volume with each pump. You had to slap both your hands over your mouth to muffle your sounds from waking your sisters.

Rafe recognizes that immediately. That's the only reason he isn't ripping them off right now—to let him hear how he makes you feel, to listen to what he's owed—because he knows where your priorities lie.

"Please don't stop," you whimper through your fingers, which are slowly loosening as you feel the familiar tension tightening in your gut.

"Sweetheart, God can't even pull me away from this pussy right now." Rafe grunts. Your walls flutter around him. "You're about to come, aren't you?"

You nod desperately and Rafe fastens his rhythm, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as you race towards your orgasm with a loud, uninhibited moan that echoes through the room. He had to slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

Panting, you try to catch your breath but Rafe doesn't allow you to rest. Still hungry, still needing, he pulls out and flips you on your stomach, hauling your ass in the air.

Your legs burn from the way he folded you but you still get on your knees. Breathing heavily with your profile pressed against your sheets, you feel his hands flattening against the smooth curve of your cheeks, squeezing.

Rafe takes his time to admire you from behind. So willing, so wanting, he can see you dripping and making a mess on your covers. He chuckles. "Do you need me, baby?"

"I want you," you breathe, "inside, please."

"Inside where?" Rafe grips the base, tapping his tip on your wet folds. "Here?" He mocks, before shifting to the opening of your asshole. "Or here?"

Your breath hitches; the unfamiliar contact sends a shiver down your spine.

"Come on, sweetheart. I need an answer." Rafe taunts, rubbing his slick cock over your hole, anticipation pricking his skin as he sees you contract. "Would this be your first?"

You nod, too disoriented to form words.

He grins. "Are you going to let me fuck your asshole?"

The feeling of your slickness rubbing against your back entrance feels foreign but not unwelcome, sending hot desire to your core. While you struggle to produce an affirmative, Rafe leans forward to grab your throat, pulling you upright.

"Are you going to answer me, Pogue, or am I going to have to do it for you?"

You hate the term Pogue, especially when he uses it, but at this moment, with his hot breath fanning the crook of your neck, you're glad he is. It reminds you—to separate the sex and your heart.

"Whatever you want." You confess.

Rafe drops you back onto the mattress, spitting on your asshole and wets the area with the pad of his thumb. He didn't immediately enter, as you would have predicted, and instead pushed a thick digit through your hole.

You try to relax, shivering through unfamiliar contact.

"Oh, shit, you're so tight for me." He breathes out, sliding in two. "I know you're going to make me come in a second."

He thrusts in-and-out at a slow pace, prepping you, but the lack of friction is causing you to grow impatient and needy. All you want is him. 

"Do it. I'm ready."

Rafe laughs. Not listening. "But this isn't about you, is it?"

He tests you out for a couple more minutes, getting you comfortable and relaxed, and it lures you into a false sense of security. When you find yourself gathering your breath, it shifts into a sudden emptiness of his removal, and before you know it—he pushes the head of his cock in, surprising you with a scream. 

The pressure stings from the initial intrusion, and you wince, gripping onto the sheets and burying your face, but as Rafe gradually fills you, the pain fades into an unlikely pleasure, floating and amplified all over your body.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans. "Am I hurting you?"

You hesitate before nodding. "Yes..."

He stills. "Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head. "No."

Something ignites deep and carnal within Rafe. The way your body tightens, your legs shaking, and the submission in your voice as he has his way with you. The fact that you want to continue, despite the hurt, because he wants it, drives him insane.

"You're being such a good girl tonight."

The compliment drives your enthusiasm and you wiggle your ass against his cock, feeling him twitch inside of you. It flips his control. Rafe quickly grabs your hips, holding you in place.

He grits out. "Don't do that."

"Why not?" You whine, wanting to feel him deeper, more full. "I'm only trying to help."

A laugh can't help but escape him. At how cockdrunk you are—it carves something in his chest. "God, you really are my personal slut. Doing anything to make me feel good, won't you?"

You don't answer, the call-out warming your cheeks at your own recognition. You said it once during sex, a tease on him, but now you can't help but see how true it is. Now, it feels like an attack on the independent facade you crafted as part of your character.

Rafe wants to hear you. He grips your hips harder, leaving bruises. "Say it."

You shake your head. You don't want him to know how much you're willing to give him. It's too vulnerable.

The lack of silence isn't enough for him.

Rafe rails into you, bottoming out, and you let out a cry at the intensity of his size, at the pressure buried in you, and the pain-pleasure that pulsates through your body. You understand it's your own punishment, but your teeth sinks into your bottom lip, refusing to budge.

He goes again. And again. To the point that he's rage-fucking you, abandoning all restraints and channeling his aggression from his brunch and your disobedience. He wants to know you'll be willing to sacrifice your pride as much as he sacrifices his and he's pissed that you aren't.

A tit-for-tat. 

One of your hands slips between your legs, rubbing your clit in simulation. The euphoria explodes all over, especially with how Rafe fills you from behind, and you moan wildly, causing him to discover the act and pin your wrists behind your back.

"No."

"Rafe." You beg, the ache between your legs is demanding and left without resolution. "Touch me."

He shakes his head with a tsk. "Bad girls don't deserve that."

You have a retort on your lips but it's forgotten the moment he thrusts into you, so deep, it hits a spot you didn't know existed and causes you to roll your eyes to the back of your head.

"Fuck, you're loud." He grumbles, grabbing your panties from the side and bundling them into a tight ball, shoving it into your mouth. You choke on surprise.

"Rafe–"

"Shut. Up." He warns viciously, knowing the increment level of noises you're producing is going to wake your siblings. Another reason why you won't let him in. "And just take it like a good slut."

Something about his command exhilarates you. Bounded and gagged, Rafe is fucking your ass, and all you can think about is you're letting him. You want this. Even with his harsh words.

You had to give him something.

"Like yours." You admit, the muffling of your panties works wonders at stifling your words.

Despite that, he heard it. Rafe pauses for a moment. You aren't giving him everything, but he hears it in the confession.

His command is low. "Say that again."

"I'm yours." You whimper, desperate and submissive. "Please make me come."

His chest warms and his smile is smug. Rafe slides his hand from your hips to your needy cunt, rubbing your swollen nub with tight circles, causing you to buckle and heightening your rising peak.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp with a sharp breath, "oh, god, oh, god."

When you come, your orgasm hits in waves—intense and demanding—ripping out of you despite the gag, and searing in such an elevated state that you slump back onto the bed. Rafe has to abandon everything to grab your middle, holding you up.

He continues to penetrate you from behind until he fills you up, his hot cum leaking out of you. When he pulls out, he takes his fingers and pushes it back in, causing you to contract with a low, lazy moan.

You're out of it. You thought it would be the end but Rafe's appetite is insatiable. He settles back against the headboard of your bed, breathing heavily with a sheen of sweat covering his taut chest, and beckons you.

"Rafe," you groan weakly. "What?"

"Come here."

Despite the throbbing in your muscles, you crawl to him. Settling next to his pelvis, you glance down at his softening cock. "Get me hard again."

Your eyes widen at the instruction. "Are you not tired?"

"Never of you."

You roll your eyes before your fingers gingerly wrap around his shaft, slowly rubbing him out, feeling it harden underneath your touch in a matter of seconds. You gleam in a bit of pride at your ability. You turn back to him, drawn out and exhausted. "Now, what?"

"Ride me."

"What?"

"Come on, sweetheart." He teases, grabbing your waist and moving you to mount over him. Your entrance hovers over his tip, sensitive—so, so sensitive—that you let out a small whine. "You have a promise to keep."

You try. Lowering yourself to let the head in, you immediately pull back, hissing from your overestimation with a fervent shake of your head.

"Rafe." You pant, eyes searching his face. "I can't. I–I think I'm done."

"I'm not." And with that, he thrusts upwards and into you. You collapse onto his cock, sinking down with a cry as tears prick your line of vision from the overwhelming ache of pleasure.

You still move against him, trying to produce some friction, despite your words. Rafe sees how you're working, trying to please him, that he pulls you down to capture your mouth in a tender kiss, drawing out your pain with some pleasantry.

His hand cups the side of your face and you melt into his touch, the act removes all your inhibitions. When he retreats, he whispers against your lips. "Last one, okay, baby? I know you can hold out for me a little longer."

Determination courses through you.

You, with tear-stained cheeks, nods. You straighten your posture, closing your eyes and will yourself through the pain, bouncing on his cock and ignoring the burning sensation in the back of your thighs.

Rafe watches your tits bounce and uses the opportunity to capture the bar lined between your nipples, twisting and pulling them to produce pleasure for you. The additive of his touch pushes your body into overdrive and you feel yourself growing closer once again.

"Please, please, please." You beg, to anyone, anything with a higher power, to guide you through this climax. It's the hardest to peak, and you try to quicken your pace, but your legs give out and you fall flat. Rafe, knowing the familiar twitch of your walls around him, begins to assist and thrusts into you.

"I'm close, baby," he grunts, pumping forward with enough force that pushes both of you through your orgasm and riding out your highs together. You clench so tightly around him, in the aftermath, that he can barely move. 

When you feel the familiar warm pool spilling inside of you, you let him empty it all out, and when you dismount, you fall into the space beside Rafe, leaking and complete fucked out.

Rafe knows your next move is to pull to the ledge, to separate some distance between the two of you, but he doesn't give you the chance before he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest. His breathing is heavy, his heart rate is fast, and he's worn out from the session.

You don't resist, letting yourself calm down with him. It isn't until he presses a soft kiss to the back of your shoulders and wipes away some of your tears that your stomach flips. "You okay?" He murmurs against your heated skin. 

You want to cry. Not from the sensation but because of how gentle he's treating you after; how it's messing with your feelings and making you think of things you shouldn't.

"I'm fine." You lie, putting your hand over his arms and peeling them off of your body before pulling to the ledge. It feels like a safety tactic nowadays.

Rafe takes it as some kind of rejection and when you move into a sitting position, back pressed against the headboard, you turn to him with a raised brow.

"Do you want to talk about it now?" You ask, doing something, anything to stop this feeling from building inside of your chest and giving you hope. You remind yourself of the transactions; the falsehood of it all.

He doesn't, especially with the distance, but he does it anyway, out of respect for your terms.

"My dad is giving away the case to Sarah."

Your lips part. "What?"

"The one with the marsh and hotel? Yeah."

You pause, taking a few seconds to gather your words. "And you're upset because it's unfair?"

He doesn't answer you immediately. He's not upset about the case itself, there's hundreds of other opportunities for him to handle business like that. Especially now knowing he could. It was the fact that it was our case, because you helped him figure it out. You were his partner.

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "I worked hard on it. She doesn't deserve all the credit."

You hum in understanding. "I'm sorry."

Rafe huffs. "I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity, it's compassion." You correct. "You're pissed and you're hurt by something your dad did to you. It's okay to feel that. I'm sorry you have to feel that."

Rafe says nothing, watching you.

His heart aches.

You’re so understanding. So perfect. He doesn’t know how to explain how every time he comes in with this need for you, for you to satisfy him physically, only to come out of it a different man. Someone better. Someone more in-tuned with himself. He never had someone like that in his life. 

He looks at you like you’re a dream but he’s afraid he isn’t yours. 

You decide to move the conversation elsewhere, not wanting to end the night in such a depressive state. "Are you staying the night?" 

“Are you kicking me out?” Rafe asks tightly. 

He wants to understand you, of where you’re ranking him at. He knows he’s going to absolutely lose it if he has to go back to Tannyhill tonight. 

"No." You declare, grabbing the comforter and throwing it over your body. You should really take a shower and clean up, but you're so exhausted right now, all you want is to go to sleep and figure it out tomorrow.

"Does that mean..." He trails off, wanting to hear you say it, wanting you to ask him.

You don't.

"Whatever you want, Rafe." You yawn, rubbing your eyes. "If you stay, you stay. If you leave, just make sure to lock the door behind you."

And with that, you fell asleep.

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[rafecameroninterlude]

rafe fingering you hard till your crying and begging him to stop but he won't until you squirt multiple times

warnings: fingering, squirting, slight overstimulation, crying, begging, rafe being a lil mean

“r-rafe, please,” you mewled, pushing your head against your boyfriend’s chest. “ah, fuck- listen to that, ‘you hear how fucking wet you are?” he groaned into your ear, his fingers thrusting into you at an unforgiving speed. “s’too much!” your hand wrapped around his wrist in a poor attempt to stop him. “if you do that one more time i’m not gonna stop until you’re crying.” your thighs closed around his hand, a whimper falling from your lips as you shook in his hold.

rafe cursed, pulling his digits out of your sopping cunt in order to force your legs open. “maybe next time you’ll remember to watch that fucking mouth of yours.” his fingers plunged inside of you once more, eliciting a moan from both of you. the way his digits were curling inside of you, paired with his thumb rubbing your clit, it wasn’t long before you were seeing stars, your soaked pussy fluttering around his fingers as you fell over the edge of pure euphoria.

rafe didn’t make any effort to slow his movements down, actually doing the opposite until the wet squelches of your cunt became too much for you to handle. “wait! i think i’m-” rafe covered your mouth, a smile forming on his lips as his hand muffled your scream. you felt the wet sensation before you saw the mess, your boyfriend trailing sloppy kisses in the curve of your neck. “shhh..” rafe finally started easing you through the after shocks of your orgasm, his hand coming to a stop.

you had tears running down your cheeks at this point, your chest rising and falling with each breath. “what was it that you said to topper again? ‘take me home since rafe doesn’t want to.’” he scoffed, moving from behind you and laying you on his pillows. “how do you think that sounds, hmm? how do you think i feel when i hear my girl asking my friend to take her home?” rafe hovered above you, his wet fingertips tracing shapes on your inner thighs.

you shook your head, cupping his face as he stared down at you with the darkest gaze you’ve ever seen. “i won’t do it again, i promise. ‘just wanted to leave the party already..” rafe nodded, everything you said going in one ear and out the other. “well you got what you wanted, now you have to take it.” without warning, he inserted his fingers again, making your body jolt at the sudden intrusion. “you’re gonna give me two more.” rafe felt his cock harden at your choked sob, your hysterics only turning him on even more.

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dividers by @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics @plum98

previous |

FOUR YEARS AFTER THE FALL

Are you still falling?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time has intensified and lessened your emotional burden simultaneously.

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

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

Then you remember.

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

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

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

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

Good, yeah, that’s it. That’s it.

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

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

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

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

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I didn’t.” Joel agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You mean about the therapy?”

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

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

“For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? What did she say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I ripped that from you.”

“You did.”

“In the worst possible way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are utterly, completely, perfectly shocked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

..she made me feel wanted..

..a boost to my ego..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you agree to the Terms & Conditions?

Press ‘Enter.’

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

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

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you certainly delivered.

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

“I can’t do this-”

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

“-tonight.”

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

“Maybe another time, but not tonight.”

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

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

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

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

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

Is it all right if I come and see you?

Backspacebackspacebackspace

Is it OK if I come and talk?

And the answer was

Not today.

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

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

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

Can we talk?

Yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.” you laugh nervously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

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

Joel looks at you perplexed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let me in, better angry than scared.

Better angry than scared.

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

You let him, because you are a weak person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your point?”

“Why did you do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you insist?”

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

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

“I didn’t want you to.”

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

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

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

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

Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Him.

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

“The week I was gone?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Ridiculous..”

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand..”

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

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

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

His hands are shaking.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” Loud and clear as daylight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

He seems lighter, too.

“Maybe, one day..?”

“Yeah.. Maybe, one day..”

previous |

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

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

@sofiparallel

[lxnarphase]

I-T G-I-R-L ᯓ★

━━ ❝ THIS P★SSY SOMETHING ALL OVER THE WORLD ❞

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...ft. : blk!fem!reader + g. satoru + g. suguru + n. kento + h. hiromi + f. toji + k. shiu + k. choso + r. sukuna + h. kinji + t. fumihiko + t. aoi

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : the new girl has caught his attention...and he really, really likes what he sees.

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's note : i want to try something a little different where i do little drabbles and pieces similar to 'chef kiss, she's a treat' except they'll be longer !! ❤︎ the list will be updated with links as they are posted ! leave a reply if you would like to be tagged

BITCH, YOU KNOW I'M SEXY | F. TOJI

ᯓ ❤︎ being toji's roommate, you finally snaps after another night of not being able to sleep because of toji's late night hookups. your house, your rules.

DON'T CALL, JUST TEXT ME | N. KENTO

ᯓ ❤︎ nanami always makes sure he takes good care of his girl and other girls can't help but get a little jealous of you. why not rub it in their face a little bit?

SLOW, CAN'T GET ON MY SPEED | K. CHOSO

ᯓ ❤︎ aftering pushing choso's buttons all day long, he can't help but crack and show you that he's not the constantly shy, blushing mess you think he is

YOU KNOW I AM THAT GIRL | T. AOI

ᯓ ❤︎ of course everyone is shocked when todo comes around with a girlfriend of all things...but how the hell did he bag you?!

BITCH, DON'T KISS AND TELL | H. HIROMI

ᯓ ❤︎ 'i won't go back to my ex' he said. 'i can live without her' he said. well, now hiromi's on his knees with his head is under your skirt, like the liar he is.

DON'T BE MAD AT ME 'CUS I'M C★NT, BITCH | R. SUKUNA

ᯓ ❤︎ sukuna has always hated piercing the pink, girly girls that would probably start crying the second they see the needle. but that succubus tattoo catches his eye.

TRENDSETTER, BITCH | T. FUMIHIKO

ᯓ ❤︎ you always have takaba take your insta pictures, but he's learned recently that he likes taking pictures of you all the time. all. the. time.

I'M A ST★R GIRL, BITCH | H. KINJI

ᯓ ❤︎ hakari has always found himself getting lost in your eyes because of how unique they are. but he recently notice whenever you look at him they do something...different.

PRETTY BITCHES LOVE ME | G. SUGURU

ᯓ ❤︎ suguru is just as big of a show off as gojo, he's just more subtle about it. and he wants everyone in this damn club to know that you're his.

TO BE IN VOGUE, TO WALK IN SHOWS | K. SHIU

ᯓ ❤︎ shiu loves your mini fashion shows on his days off, you always look so so pretty. but today's outfit? he likes it a bit too much.

I'M THAT BITCH, YOU ALREADY KNOW | G. SATORU

ᯓ ❤︎ satoru has started incorporating little accessories that match your fits of the day and he knows he's always making sure everyone knows its from you.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[dearaceofhearts]

you walk out after an argument

characters: husk, alastor, angel dust, vox, lucifer word count: 2.9k genre: angst to fluff summary: after an argument with them, you walk out and don't come back for a few days. how do they react? author's note: hello yes this is my first time actually posting something. erm, i think i wrote too much (sorry) but hey we roll with it!! also dude i accidentally posted this before it was ready twice and i had a heart attack oh my god. also also i don't think vox's is really fluff (oops) but everyone else's is

♡ husk

when you slam the door shut on your way out, husk lets out a low grumble, setting down the glass he was cleaning onto the bar counter with a quiet sigh. it was one of the first arguments you'd had in a long time. although he wasn't usually one to get riled up so easily, the two of you knew each other well enough to know just what buttons to push to get under the other's skin. that, alongside him already having a bad day, had been a recipe for disaster.

in the few days that pass by, it's hard to tell just how affected he is by your absence since he does a pretty good job of keeping a cool facade. to anyone looking, he wouldn't appear any different than usual, just idly cleaning bottles as he always does.

but it's the small things that give away just how much husk cares and worries for you, like how his eyes flicker towards the door whenever someone comes in, his ears perking up slightly. he hates the twinge of disappointment that follows when it's not you, a slight scowl curling at his lips as he takes a swig of alcohol from one of the many bottles on the shelves of the bar. he misses talking to you. you're his favourite drinking buddy, after all.

his gaze always seems to wander back to the front door of the hotel, lingering for just a little too long before he eventually turns back to the bar, expression settling back into its usual grouchiness. but underneath that lies a hint of worry that gnaws at him in the back of his mind, even though he knows you're more than capable of handling yourself. at the end of the day, you can never be too careful in hell.

husk won't force you to come back, but he just wants to know that you're safe and sound. he trusts that you'll come back when you're ready so that the two of you can talk it over and hopefully resolve things. he doesn't want to leave it like this, and he's sure you don't either. you mean a lot more to him than he'd like to admit.

when you decide to finally return to the hotel, he pauses upon catching sight of you stepping through the doorway. he can't help the small wave of relief that washes over him, though you wouldn't be able to tell by the way he smoothly resumes restocking the bar. when you approach the counter, he looks up, giving you a short nod. "hey." he greets you, tone surprisingly softer than you're used to, "you're back."

husk's not really the type to beat around the bush, so he'd likely address the argument pretty quickly. he's also not particularly one for verbal apologies, so he'd probably be more willing to show it through his actions. you see it in the way he lets you cling to him a little longer than he normally does, leaning into him as he wordlessly holds you, his tail loosely curling around your leg. if you listen closely, you can hear some faint purring, too. it makes you smile slightly.

"alright, 'nuff of this sappy stuff." husk grumbles after a few more moments, patting your back gently before pulling back. "i'd kill for a drink right now. care to join me?" he raises a brow, a familiar glint in his eyes as he slides back behind the counter, already moving to make what he knows is your favourite drink.

you grin as you meet his eyes, expression softening. "of course. i'd love nothing more."

♡ alastor

"you're not listening, al." you murmur, exhaling quietly. this makes him pause for a moment, head tilted. your voice sounds different to what he's used to — you're not even angry, no — you just sound... tired. the argument had been going on for a while, and neither of you were getting through to the other.

when you move to leave, he makes no move to stop you, simply watching you with an intent gaze. his voice rings out clear as day in the empty silence. "where do you think you're going, my dear?"

he falters ever so slightly when you turn back to face him with a sturdy, stern gaze, responding with a flatly spoken "out", leaving no room for anything more to be said before closing the door behind you with a quiet click.

alastor won't chase after you, because he expects that you'll come back to him of your own accord. to him, it's basically guaranteed how this'll play out. he's used to demons falling right into his hands without having to exert much effort on his end, and believes that this would be no different.

so when a few days pass by with you not approaching him at all, he finds himself slightly irritated and mildly perplexed, eyes narrowed as his clawed finger taps against his cane with idle impatience. why haven't you sought him out yet?

he's seen you around the hotel, but you've never once acknowledged his presence even if the two of you were in the same room, breezing past him while he's left staring, watching you converse with everyone except him. his eye twitches in irritation, the perpetual smile on his lips strained.

...eventually, after playing a long waiting game to no avail, he decides that perhaps rosie would be able to offer some helpful advice on how to approach this situation, since he's not used to actually handling delicate emotional matters without the— well, the manipulation and deal-making.

one of the main issues is his massive ego. it's that unfaltering pride that gets in the way of him apologising. he may be the radio demon, but all that power can't help him here. and he'd never openly admit to such, but he truly is at somewhat of a loss here. he's already tried most things that he's sure would usually make you forgive him, though for a reason unbeknownst to him, it's not working this time.

"oh alastor," rosie shakes her head with a small huff, "a lady's heart is to be treated with care." she lends some further words of wisdom and encouragement that he listens to with great attentiveness, since he does (begrudgingly) enjoy your company, and it would be a shame if it was lost over such a, in his eyes, trivial matter.

upon his return to the hotel, he manages to get you to sit down with him (after much polite pestering and insistence) to have a chat over some tea. when all is said and done, the two of you sit in a comfortable silence. you sip your tea, watching the blazing fires of hell from the balcony.

"refill?" alastor offers, glancing at you briefly through a sip of his own tea.

"much appreciated." you hum, legs crossed as you throw him a small, slack smile.

♡ angel dust

his frustration slowly fizzles out as the door closes behind you, and the guilt slowly starts to creep in. he knows he shouldn't have said what he did, and he wants nothing more than to apologise and make it up to you — but he understands that it's probably better to give you some time to cool off before trying to approach you again.

despite the argument and the harsh words exchanged between you, the fact that he cares for you with his whole heart will never change, and he hopes you know that too.

while you're away, angel always finds his thoughts drifting to you, wondering how you're doing. are you eating okay? are you drinking enough? sleeping enough? with a shake of his head and a small sigh, he tries his best to return his focus back to the task at hand, whatever it may be.

he knows you can take care of yourself perfectly fine, but he just... misses you. the guilt eats away at him when he's reminded of the look on your face when you left, the brief glimmer of hurt in your eyes before you masked it with anger and tore your gaze away.

one particular night, angel heads over to your room in the hotel out of habit, not really thinking about it when he raises a fist to knock on the door. he had been hoping to spend some time with you, since today had been a particularly rough day for him. he's also been craving for one of your sleepover nights for a while, those nights where you two would stay up to talk about anything and everything until dawn rises. those times were comforting for him — a rare moment of respite in his life.

but then he stops abruptly, remembering that you're not there. he lets his hand fall back to his side, expression quietly downcast. he stands alone in the silent, empty hallway. has it always been this cold?

after a few days, he's just about damn ready to go looking for you, making his way down the stairs as he prepares to head out. he's so focused that he almost misses the sight of you seemingly casually sitting at the bar, nursing a drink in your hands whilst exchanging low murmurs with husk.

he freezes momentarily, taking a deep breath. while he mentally debates with himself whether to approach you or not, husk notices him hesitating on the staircase. he catches angel's gaze, giving him a subtle nod. that's all the affirmation angel needs.

he slides on his usual relaxed demeanour, though it's a little weaker than normal, as he approaches you. he's admittedly a little nervous, but he's determined to work things out with you. he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder to catch your attention. "hey, darlin'. can i talk to you for a minute?"

the two of you head back to your room, where heartfelt apologies are exchanged and a long overdue conversation takes place. at some point during the talk, his hand had found its way on top of yours, thumb brushing over your skin gently. at the end of it all, he gives you a small, content smile. "...baby, you have no idea just how much i adore you." he whispers into the quiet, running his fingers through your hair comfortingly as your head rests on his shoulder.

it was an unspoken agreement that tonight was going to be a sleepover night. prepare for lots of cuddling and gentle, soft kisses.

♡ vox

he's the type to go "ha, see if i care!" when you leave, but he'll still check on you occasionally through the various cameras and electronics around the city — he swears it's just because he's making sure the new limited edition voxtek product he had given to you isn't damaged.

(...it's totally because he's looking out for you, by the way. even if it's only a little. you are his darling, after all. and uh, you'll never know what happened to that guy who tried to hit on you that one time).

(vox made sure not even a trace of that bastard remained).

his obnoxious pride makes him reluctant to reach out first. that, and he's a petty little shit. so everyone around him, whether that be the other vees or his employees, is stuck dealing with his foul mood. he's become even more irritable and susceptible to lashing out than usual since you left.

he'd rather die than admit it, but you were a calming presence in his life that he hadn't realised he needed until you were gone. he hates just how much power you have over him, though you may or may not realise it. he's supposed to be the one in charge. when did you manage to sneak into his heart? his mind is occupied with thoughts of you.

and it only frustrates him more, because you're not here.

all his employees are left on edge, even more so when he takes his anger out on some poor soul who had gotten the numbers wrong on the report they handed in. "clean this mess up." vox snaps, glowering as he fixes the cuffs of his sleeves. the demon at the door hurriedly moves to do as he says, not wanting to risk meeting the same fate.

"what? what are you looking at?" he turns, eyes narrowing at the rest of the employees who flinch, hastily turning their eyes back to the screens in front of them. "get back to work." he mutters sharply, an unspoken threat in his words.

his volatile temperament goes on for a while, until velvette decides she's finally had enough and sends you a (not so) polite text to resolve your little lover's spat before she takes matters into her own hands.

meanwhile, vox is in his office. nothing seems to be going his way, and he's just about to blow another fuse when you nonchalantly throw open the doors, inviting yourself in. he freezes, staring at you for a few moments. you raise a brow. "...so. i heard you were throwing another hissy fit."

vox scowls at that, grumbling under his breath. "oh yeah? and what'd you come back for, you prissy little princess?" he sneers, clawed fingers digging into the desk with a quiet screech. "couldn't go without me for long, huh?"

"ha. you wish that was the case." you scoff, rolling your eyes with a half-amused, irked smile curling at your lips. things escalate into another argument pretty quickly, with the two of you at each other's throats. he towers over you, eyes narrowing as his grin widens in mild irritation.

it's a back and forth for quite some time, until you get sick of it and grab him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer until you're glaring at one another face to face. "what the fuck do you think you're—" he starts, but he's quickly cut off when your lips crash into his. vox is stunned for a few moments but soon snaps out of it, swiftly returning your kiss with equal, if not more, ferocity and intensity.

"finally got you to shut up." you murmur, grinning as you part to catch your breath and release his shirt from your grasp. before you can pull back completely, however, his hand reaches up to rest against the back of your neck, the other firmly on your waist. it takes another long, drawn-out kiss for him to finally let you go — though not really, since he's still holding you close in his arms.

"...that was hot." he whispers breathlessly, staring down at you with a somewhat satisfied glint in his eyes. but you both know that there's more to come.

suffice to say, the two of you sorted things out.

♡ lucifer

he would regret everything almost instantly. lucifer realises just how badly he fucked up when you leave without looking back. he's not even quite sure what happened as he stands alone in the room, blinking as he's left to process everything on his own. his mind is a jumbled mess, and he can't think clearly.

all he can feel is a suffocating rush of fear as he snaps out of his daze and hurries after you, desperate to find you before you're gone. he doesn't want to take his chances. what if you don't come back? what if—

he had said things that he didn't mean, and now the weight of it all feels crushing on his shoulders. he's torn between wanting to reach out to apologise and giving you time to cool down. he doesn't want to be a bother, but also really wants to make things up to you.

most of all, he just wants reassurance that you'll come back to him and that he hasn't messed things up for good. he doesn't want to lose you. you're too precious to him for that, and he's mentally kicking himself for ever making you question your importance to him for even a second.

thankfully, you haven't gone too far so he's able to catch up to you, taking a hold of your wrist firmly. however, when you turn to look at him, he falters, the words dying in his throat. he swallows, softly clearing his throat as he scrambles to say something, anything to stop you from leaving. to reaffirm his love for you.

"...sweetheart, i'm so sorry," he whispers, expression twisted and heart heavy with remorse and sorrow as he brings you close, grip subconsciously tightening because he's afraid to let you go. "i'll do anything, i'll make it up to you, i—" he trails off, burying his face into your shoulder, "just, please... don't leave. i'm sorry."

you really can't stay mad at him for too long after seeing his genuine sincerity. he acknowledges his wrongs, wanting nothing more than to make up for his mistakes and make you feel as appreciated and cared for as you've made him feel over the course of you two knowing each other. you sigh gently, thumb lightly brushing over his cheek. "...alright, silly. let's go home."

his eyes light up at that, and he's reminded of just how grateful he is to have you here by his side as you guys make your way home together. he holds your hand the entire time.

after the two of you make up, you find that he'll leave little gifts and cute trinkets around for you despite your gentle assurances that he doesn't have to. he also gives you lots of forehead kisses. he just wants to make sure you never forget how much he loves you, and that you mean the world to him.

© dearaceofhearts ー all rights reserved. please do not steal, use or modify my works!

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt. 69)

(Sneek Peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The pack meet with moonbyul to discuss terms.

Tags: Violence, Angst with the happy ending on the horizon, fluff if you squint, Yoongi gets really really angry and kinda triggers the, allusions to past abuse, Blood, manipulative behavior, trans! tae, Transphobia,

W/c: 11.0k

A/n: woooooo we're finally here!! can you belive it???? this chapter may feel like an ending in a sense because it is an end of all the mafia parts. truly- after this chapter we won't see any more violence or blood or anything close to the last 6. it's all happy endings from here <3 Thank you for sticking with it!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Sneek Peek:

Yoongi waits for everyone to buckle their seat belt but you don’t, frozen watching him in the window, the rearview mirror when he gets into the front seat. Yoongi doesn’t even get around to starting the car, sliding the key home but the beep goes once, twice, and then a third time because you don't have your seatbelt buckled. The others wait in silence. 

“Yoongi-“

“Fuck!” The curse is loud and perfunctory. He kicks open his door again with a stream of spat explicative. Slamming it shut this time. The others don't say anything, completely silent in the face of his anger.

Yoongi doesn't get angry. You've never seen him like this before. 

He wrenches your door open and for a horrible moment, you think he's going to yank you out of it and tell you to get lost. 

Yoongi's murmuring things to himself, so low that you almost can't make out what he's saying as he pushes himself into the back seat. The backseat of the Lambo isn’t that large. Hardly big enough to fit two people let alone four. Jungkook lets out a belated “Hey!” but Hoseok just reaches around him and unlocks the door for him to get out. Jimin is already out of the passenger seat and heading in the direction of the driver's side as Yoongi scrambles with your seat belt, jerking it over your shoulder and slamming it home.

"-Fucking asshole- of all the stupid omegas in the world I had to be mated to the fucking- dumbest- little- fucking-" The belt digs into your shoulder extra tight and Jimin starts the car wordlessly. 

You're closed in on both sides by him and Hobi on the other. 

They switch and shuffle. Jimin pulls away from the train station, gentler this time but still faster and with more finesse than you'd do it. Yoongi is still looking at you, glaring, tears in his eyes with wet cheeks, his voice low and uncompromising. 

“Give me your phone.” 

“My what?”

“Your. Phone. You used it to call her didn’t you?” You nod after a second, slowly pulling it from your sweatshirt pocket and handing it over. 

Yoongi takes your phone and breaks it over his thigh.

It’s a bit impressive really- the show of strength. He brings it down once and the screen breaks, winking out like a shooting star. Another and it bends just a little, a third time- and it’s practically at a right angle. It breaks so easily in the face of adrenaline and anger and fear. 

You make a small noise, not a whimper but a descending sound. Yoongi raises his eyebrows at you, wild. Like he’ll break even further if you complain. Hoseok’s not sure he’s ever seen Yoongi this broken. Never.

"Just- There were pictures of Noodle and Tae on there.”

Fear and anger are an intoxicating mix to anyone- let alone someone who almost lost their person. He goes at your phone until its jagged edge bites into his hand drawing blood. Then he tosses both pieces of your phone onto the floor of the car like they're paperweights. 

One of the pieces hits your shoe with a small metal clink, and even hobi looks down in surprise at the sound. 

Yoongi laughs and then bends over. yanking the gun out of your boot. Small, shoved there. Hoseok didn’t notice. He's not sure why it surprises him- that you'd be armed. You're not an idiot, you know the risks, and you were armed the last time that you tried to run away.  

He holds it out to you, long fingers wrapped around the barrel pointed at his chest. The handle facing you, the barrel of the gun level with his heart.

“You want to do the honors sweetheart?”

Coming Saturday April 27th At 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

[danytar]

“Meet me at the highest heaven” [ King!Aegon!Targaryen X Sister!Wife!Reader ]

Warnings: anxiety, aegon is going to Rook's Rest,Incest, mention of war and death, No use of y/n, swearing,(m receiving),erotic lactation.

Summary: Aegon is going to the battle. And now you feel like your heart will be torn apart at any moment. Will you be able to say goodbye to him?

'The true king is the king who leads his battles himself' The famous quote in the world. Which you've heard hundreds of times. But you did not think that your husband would apply the phrase himself. You are still in pain over the murder of your eldest son.

You still haven't forgotten what happened.. You still haven't forgotten how you lost two children in one night. It was like a nightmare.. you hoped you would wake up soon and find yourself in bed with your husband. as a prince and princess.

The weight of your titles weighs heavily on your shoulders. You hoped it was a joke or something but it never was.. Your husband has already entered the game of thrones and getting out of that game is not as easy as entering it.

You were in your room, combing your silver locks, lost in your thoughts then you heard your doors open and there was the new hand of the king. “My queen”. His voice was polite and firm.

“Yes sir criston? ”. You let the comb from your hand and turned to see him standing there close to the big door of your chambers. “His grace requested your presence in his own chambers”. he replied to you.

You nodded and got up from your chair to leave the room. The knight led the way for your husband's chambers. you can't help but feel worry about what will happen next.You don't know what's causing this feeling, but you ignore it for now at least.

The guard opened the door for you and stopped outside the room. You entered the room and your gaze fell directly on him he was standing there in full armor. You swallow and take steps closer to him.

He looked at you and didn't speak yet. There was a silent moment between you two, just letting your eyes speak for you. He meets you with a warm smile on his lips you couldn't help but feel small tears wet your cheeks.

When he opens his mouth to speak, you don't let him but you rushe to him and embraces him hardly. The feel of steel on your skin doesn't bother you at all.He hugged you back he moved your hair away from your bare shoulders and placed his head there to inhale your scent.

One of his hands was gently stroking your hair and the other was tight around you. He broke the silence between you two with a little joke to lighten the mood “Is my queen trying to seduce me with this dress now?” He cocked his head and looked at you with a smile.

You wiped your eyes and chuckled softly “Shut up”. he chuckled with you then he wiped away the remnants of your tears and looked into your eyes.

“Don't cry my queen I won't leave you alone in this world I swear”. He lifted your chin with his thumb so you could look at him. He can see the coming tears from your eyes So he presses a kiss between your eyebrows.

“Do you really have to go?”. The words escaped your trembling lips. You cannot afford another loss and it's not any loss A piece of you. “I'm afraid I do, my love it's my duty to protect my kingdoms...to protect you”.

He tucked your silver locks behind your ears and looked at your eyes sweetly. He may be a king but your tears make him the weakest thing you could ever imagine. He hugged you to his chest again and his arms caress your shoulders and your bare back.

“I want to go with you”. You break the hug and look at him. He cups your cheeks and sighs “No, you will stay here I won't let my queen go the battle”.

“Aegon-” He interrupts you and places his thumb on your lips “No objections You're not going anywhere”. He looked at you in the eye and spoke softly. He was serious, he didn't want to put his wife in danger.

You pulled away from him and turned to give him your back. He sighed at your stubbornness and spoke in a sweet, low tone “Is this how you will say goodbye to me?”.

“This is not a farewell. You will return to me against your will ”. You gently wipe away your tears with the palm of your hand. he chuckled and talked to tease you “I can't promise I'll come back alive”.

You turn around again, with a frown on your face. he chuckles when he sees your face. “This is not funny aegon! ”

He wipes away the tears of laughter and approaches you again. You try to move away again but he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him.He presses his lips to yours forcefully His kisses were desperate and intense. He placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed you hard.

He bit your lower lip until you opened your mouth slightly so he could insert his tongue inside. you gladly opened your mouth slightly and your tongue joined his with an elaborate dance. When he pulled away from you, you were both panting heavily.

He rested his forehead on yours and closed his eyes. You closed your eyes and sighed then you spoke in a low tone “Come back safe”. you whispered in his hear. He smiled at you and replied, “I will.” He holds you tightly and whispers into you ear, “Be strong, love, I'll be home before you know it...”He kisses your shoulder softly.

“Come back to me one piece, please”. you whispered to him.

“I promise, I'll be back..” He caresses your cheek, “You must be brave and look after yourself and our son”. He whispers to you and hugs you again, but this time his lips travel to your exposed neck and kiss you there. Your body shivers under his touch.

He sighs softly as he feels her soft skin beneath his palms “So soft..” He continues to kiss your neck, as his hands working to undress you slowly.He whispers to you and nibbles your ear “If you think you're going to seduce me like this without me doing anything to you, you're wrong my love”.

“I wasn’t planning to seduce you.” You reply with a low tone.

“Excuses...excuses ”. He lets your dress fall so he can kiss your breasts and suck your nipples. Your breasts were still producing milk because you were pregnant from little while before your tragic miscarriage.

He was still in his armor and combat uniform, but you never complained about the feel of the rough steel on your bare skin. He rose from your chest, then got up and rubbed his thumbs over your breasts.

He looked at you in the eye and smiled “Lay on the bed for me my sweet queen”. You felt a tingle of emotions hit your stomach. You did as you were told he smiled at you and knelt at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs he placed a bunch of kisses on your thighs and his tongue started messing with you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair and held your husband's face in place. He was caressing your pearl and he will nor stop until you told him to stop Maybe this was his way of saying goodbye.

♡ – 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @darylandbethfanforever9 @hisfavegiri @callsignwidow @xitsemm @saltytidalwavetyphoon @khaleesihel @credulouskhaleesi @lovelykhaleesiii

[sea-lanterns]

(In contrast to what Signora anon said)

Now imagine Arlecchino jealous and worried for the Empress. She cannot bear the thought of fighting even the Tsaritsa to win your heart, nu uh, she won't have that

If it's just some paper business you'll be found inside Arle's office in her lap buried in her coat (imagine that you're enough small compared to her so shell rest her head on top of yours🥺). You don't even have to worry about leaving your warm spot neither for a second: want some water? There's already a bottle with two glasses on the table. Hungry? She got yourself your favorite snack previously prepared (what a caring husband right? 🥰)

If she has to go out however she will leave you her coat and when she comes back she expect to see you in it (otherwise you'll be getting a grumpy pookie bear so I warmly suggest you to keep it on👀)

🐾

Awwww we made the Pookie Wookie Bear jealous 🥺

Arlecchino comes back from her duties and is like “where’s my Empress?” Only for Signora to open up her coat and reveal the Empress all snug and warm while cuddled up to the fair lady. Oh, you bet Arle is going to be upset. She won’t really show it, but she gently tugs you away from her coworker and stuffs you in her coat instead, shuffling away with her Empress like she was a toy being fought over.

After that, Arlecchino does everything in her power to be the best husband she can be during your stay. She’s always keeping you in her lap or snuggled up against her, feeding you your favorite foods and drinks while she works to ensure you don’t get bored. Heck, whenever the other female Harbingers or god, even the Tsaritsa ask to coddle you for themselves, Arlecchino just shuffles away with you in her grasp, pretending she didn’t hear them 😭😭

Poor Pookie Wookie Bear. She thought traveling to Snezhnaya without the other courtesans would get her some alone time with her love, but unfortunately for her, it seems her coworkers have taken a liking to you too :(

Gib her kiss. She is trying to be a good hubby.

[ldrfanatic]

Slytherin Boys as 1989 Songs

+ bonus! the slytherin boys as romance tropes

I decided to shake this one up a bit and do all happy love songs

here's 1989 (tv ofc); which taylor swift album should i do next?

(mattheo riddle, draco malfoy, theo nott, lorenzo berkshire)

slytherin boys masterlist nav

mattheo riddle as I Know Places

best lyric(s) - "let them say what they want we won't here it" + "love's a fragile little flame it could burn out" + "just grab my hand and don't ever drop it"

trope - enemies to lovers :)

mattheo w a crush - in love, mattheo is somewhere in the middle between being sappy and just straight up insulting you. not like calling you ugly or anything but like "damn i didn't know it was possible to mess up such an easy spell" like kind of teasing. he's one of those guys that will be mean at first and then be like playfully mean and then finally, will start being nice to you but only sometimes. he just thinks you're adorable when you're angry.

mattheo as a boyfriend - now as a boyfriend, mattheo still teases the hell out of you but god forbid literally anyone else does bc he'll kill them. like actually. also the pair of you go through a little bit of a rough patch during the war and he keeps telling you that you have to stay way from him but secretly, he's really happy that you never actually listen to him because he doesn't know what he would do without you. he just kind of ignores all the whispers and hogwarts becomes your guys' like safe little happy love bubble.

draco malfoy as Out of the Woods

best lyric(s) - "the rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming color" + "when you started crying baby i did too, when the sun came up i was looking at you" + "I walked out I said 'i'm setting you free' but the monsters turned out to be just trees"

trope - everyone can see it except for you

draco w a crush - I think draco would be the kind of guy that actively avoided his crush. like if you were sitting in the very front of transfigurations, he was sitting in the absolute furthers corner in the back. If you were going on the hogsmeade trip, he was begging his friends would leave him to simmer in his affections for you. he's just so nervous and so certain you'll dislike him that he'd rather not talk to you at all. when he finally does work up the courage, he's extremely happy and like eternally grateful that you'd give him a chance.

draco as a boyfriend - i do think though that draco is not always the best at communicating just because he always wants everything to be so perfect and he doesn't want there to be anything that he says that could make you resent him so he'd rather not say anything at all. obv, this doesn't work out well for him cause like... communicating w you is so essential. y'all get into arguments fairly regularly but you always end up making up because he's always just creating those demons in his head and it's almost never that serious.

theodore nott as Suburban Legends

best lyric(s) - "you were so magnetic it was almost obnoxious" + "when you hold me, it holds me together and you kiss me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever" + "you'd be more than a chapter in my old diaries with the pages ripped out"

trope - hopeless romantic

theo w a crush - I think with a crush theo would be the kind of guy that just simps like a mf. like you need someone to carry your books, he's there, why would you even try to carry them yourself? just let him take care of it. or like, when you're not feeling well and you might need to spend a few days in the hospital wing, while you're sleeping theo sneaks in and leaves the notes for the classes you missed as well as your favorite sweets and flowers. (one time when michael corner made you cry, he beat the snot out of him and then the next day left this huge teddy bear outside your door with the note "y/n, that douchebag sucks. -tn")

theo as a boyfriend - theo's simp nature carries over when he's a bf so he's super freaking caring. he does literally everything for you. he'll brush your hair when you get out of the shower if you ask. or if you're like me and you have like thicker ethnic hair, he'll ask you to show him how to do your hair so that he can do it for you. he's also one of those guys that's like casually dominant. like hand on your lower back in a crowd, opening your doors, reaching up and grabbing things from the top shelf for you. naturally protective in the sense of like he always wants to sleep closest to the door in case something happens and like is also always making sure you eat and get enough water.

lorenzo berkshire as "Slut!"

lyric(s) - "and if i'm gonna be drunk, i might as well be drunk in love" + "and i break down then he's pulling me in. in a world of boys he's a gentleman" + "got love struck went straight to my head"

trope - friends to lovers

enzo w a crush - enzo is the kind of guy who's not afraid to be in love. he actually loves it. he loves having someone to compliment and shower in gifts and win over. where mattheo would tease you, draco would avoid you, and theo would lose himself in you, enzo is the guy who would bring you inexplicable joy and make sure you knew that it was him that was bringing you joy. not to say that he wouldn't do sweet gestures and such but he's the sort of guy that will make you his best friend and then make you fall in love with him.

enzo as a boyfriend - because of this, you and enzo are like those like childhood friends turned lovers type of thing. he just knows you so well and the love between you two comes so easily. he makes it his personal mission to make you smile at least once a day. as your boyfriend, he's just really playful. things like pillow fights and tickle fights. he's also that boyfriend that will do all those little stupid tiktok trends with you but like really energetically and not just like half-assed bc if it's gonna make you smile, he's going all in.

---

4.25.24

wc 1k

taglist @moonlightreader649 @svt-dk97 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess

[grandlinedreams]

|| this man is an exposed live wire in my brain ok

|| notes: uhh prequel to [this] and [this], semi Canon compliant, pre-s1 but mentions of pre-war Cooper, I love the dynamic 😔👌✨️

|| warnings: hopefully IC Cooper, asshole x asshole dynamic we love to see it, weapons/supply dealer!reader, Canon typical violence, mention of blood/reader is injured kinda, spoilers? Abt Cooper's backstory, kinda enemies to friends/lovers

He doesn't know why he's here.

No, that's a lie ㅡ he does know why he's here, he just doesn't want to admit it. To himself, or to anyone else, for that matter. That he needs help.

Those fancy little bullets for his gun are hard to come by, few and far between when he can't get them by looting and places like Ma June's enjoy extorting as much as they can for so very little.

There's a difference between business transactions and highway robbery, even now. Which is why he's here ㅡ he'd gotten talk about a place that sold weapons and weapon-related supplies at a fair rate, and necessity had made him swallow his pride to go and find out for himself.

Which is why he's not just turning around and fuckin' leaving.

The building is crammed between two others, as ramshackle as the rest being made of recycled tin and wood that's rotted by time and rain in places, but still suggests a stability that won't crumble if somebody breathes too hard on it.

Cooper's spurs jingle as he walks, lost momentarily to the chime of something over his head when he pushes the door open. He looks up, forehead creasing.

Is that a bell?

Rusted but still in working order, it clatters again when he shuts the door, looking around. It's about as put together as any other kind of shop, an eclectic organization to it ㅡ a couple of rifles, a pistol or two, along with an admittedly impressive assortment of knives ㅡ but it's the shine of something on the floor that makes Cooper stop.

His head cocks as he studies the stain, the still-slick shimmer to it that makes him crouch and drag two gloved fingers against it, studying the residue. Coppery, with a hefty dose of some kind of chem to clean it, but still unmistakable ㅡ blood.

Well damn. He doesn't know what's happened here and he's pretty sure he doesn't care to, much beyond the fact that if the runner of this place is dead, that puts a damper on things. Or maybe not ㅡ if nobody's here, what's to stop him from taking what he wants?

"If you're thinkin' of stealing," comes a call that snaps his head up as it echoes from further back in the building, "I'd advise you not to. Less you wanna meet your maker, then I'd be happy to assist."

It's a flat bravado that both amuses him and piques his interest, and he leans against the counter to rap his knuckles. "Not stealin'," he drawls, "just wonderin' what kind of business model you've got if you make customers wait."

"The kind where patience is still a virtue, that's what." Foosteps, unhurried ㅡ and then Cooper is staring at you as you round the corner. You've got a jumpsuit of some indistinguishable color opened to rest around your hips, dingy tank-top underneath ㅡ and a stimpak in your hand. No doubt for the mess of your other arm, bicep wrapped with gauze that's already seeped into a bloom of bright red.

Well now. Cooper wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but you still manage to surprise him. Enough that he's staring, which makes you scowl.

"I know that look," you challenge, "if you think I'm easy picking, you'll get a new place to breathe from, courtesy of the hole I'll put in your head."

Cooper's head cocks. "Well now sugar," he says, "that's not very nice now, is it? Wasn't even thinkin' of that." He turns, jerks a thumb at the half-assed cleaning of the mess on the floor. "That's your doin', I reckon."

You nod. "Don't get trouble much," you say, "but when I do, I make sure to prove a point." You jam the stimpak into your arm, and he watches the tension melt from your shoulders. "Now, what can I do for you besides point out the exit?"

Well damn, Cooper thinks again. You've got a pretty face, but it's at odds with the attitude coming from that nice little mouth of yours. About as welcoming as a rattlesnake and probably just as quick to anger, from the way you bristle as he eyes you.

"Need supplies," he says, and you snort.

"What a wellspring of information you are. What kind of supplies?" You eye him, brow furrowing. "You're a bounty hunter, aren't you? Get your kind in here all the time." You tap a worn boot against the floor, hands now on your hips. "Hope you got means to pay for shit, because I don't do tab and I sure as fuck don't do charity work."

Cooper isn't sure if he likes you or he hates you. Bit of both, he guesses. The like is tentative and the hate is more solid ground, because he hates just about everybody. Makes it easier to do what needs to be done.

"Well, sweetheart," he leans into the counter, tips his hat, "depends on what you got to show me that's worth buyin'."

You stare, unimpressed by whatever angle he's going for. He's handsome, you'll give him that ㅡ but not much else. He also reminds you of somebody, with that hat of his and the way he talks ㅡ the low, drawn out drawl that you've only seen in those movies you manage to scrounge up here and there for your amusement.

Rolling your eyes, you hold up a finger and shrug your arms back into the jumpsuit, though you don't bother to zip it up. "Gimme a sec."

You don't know why you're doing this. Entertaining the notion that if you show him good enough product, he'll become a regular. You like regulars, but most of what you get seem to run on about six months worth of visits and then vanish.

Probably dead. Such is the way of the world, and it's still enough to get by. But you like new faces.

To his credit, he doesn't flinch when you slap the first pack onto the counter, followed by a second, and then a third.

"This is baseline stuff," you explain. "Your usual grade of bullet. Black powder, the standard kick." You shove the first pack at him, let him inspect the bullets. "Then you've got these."

The second pack shoved over, thin fabric parted so he can eye the neat little row of what would be hollow-point bullets if they didn't end with a tiny, pointed bulb of red glass.

"Explosive rounds." Your expression is unreadable. "They do the job, but they need special packing. Unless you wanna be blown up before the damn things even get loaded into the gun."

Cooper hums, eyes the bullet he holds up, the barely there shift of powder in the glass. He watches as you push the third over. "And these?"

"Same, but they pack even more of a punch. I'd recommend only shooting them at shit you want up in smoke." You shrug. "Or people, deathclaws, whatever the fuck you do out there."

Cooper studies you. "Where did you get this stuff? Thought bullets were hard to come by."

You give him a flat look of annoyance. "I make 'em myself."

Cooper stares, then smirks. Another little tip to his head. "Really now," he says, watches you bristle like a viper, ready to strike. Wonders if those fangs of yours pack a punch, what he'd need to do to get you to spit at him. "How 'bout you show me, darlin'? Wanna make sure what I buy is good quality."

You should tell him to shove it. Tell him to get the absolute fuck out of your shop, take his fuckin' yeehaw personality to someone else in the mood to deal with it ㅡ but you don't.

Instead, you sigh and tug the packages back, moving away from the counter. "Well c'mon then," you prompt, irritated. "Don't have all goddamn day."

The back of your shop is half a home and half a workshop, sprawled mess of equipment rusted with time but otherwise well maintained, smell of grease and hot metal and gunpowder that clings to everything.

You don't have to look back to know he's followed you, the jingle of his spurs as he takes his time, eyes missing nothing. The boxes of empty casings and empty glass bulbs ㅡ and the Mister Handy that's slumped in the corner, sparks spitting from it.

"Poor thing got shot first with that...situation earlier." Your voice is quiet. "Gotta fix 'im if I can."

Kind of funny, you sound sadder about the damn machine than the fact you'd killed someone over it. Then again, they'd been trying to kill you, so...eh. Justified, in your book.

The rest of the room is a haphazard attempt at something like a house ㅡ a couch with blankets on it, a short stack of books gone yellow at the edges, a coffee table ㅡ and sitting on it is a shitty little television, staticy and without color ㅡ but that doesn't matter. What matters to Cooper is that he knows what it's playing.

Your flitting around fades a little as he watches himself on screen ㅡ forever ago, a lifetime ago. Before the bombs, before vault-tec ㅡ when he'd been happy.

He'd loved his life, his family ㅡ and they'd loved him too.

"I've got enough stuff to make another round of flash-baㅡ" You stop, blinking at the way he's staring at the television. "Somethin' wrong? I know this isn't much, but it's my way of living, soㅡ"

"Stop your yappin'," Cooper rasps, and you glare as he shakes himself out of whatever reverie he was lost in. You scowl.

"Look, I know this doesn't seem like much of anything, but this is my business, and my shop." Your eyes narrow. "So try to be a little fuckin' nicer if you want me to sell you anything."

Whatever patience he'd had left promptly snaps like a bowstring as he snatches your arm, grips it tighter than he should. "Listen, sweetheart," he hisses, "what exactly is stopping me from just takin' what I want and leaving?"

Something whirrs behind him, distracts him just enough for the cool, sharp kiss of metal at his throat.

"Do it," you taunt, expression unreadable, grip tight on the blade you hold to his neck. "You're not the first one to try, and you won't be the last."

And there, Cooper notes, are your fangs, ready to sink into his skin. The two of you stare at each other for a good, long minute while the Mister Handy spits and sputters. And then Cooper huffs something like a laugh. "Glad to see you've got some bite to you, darlin', but I still think I could handle you."

A threat and something a little less hostile all in one, even as you yank your arm out of his grasp. "You couldn't handle me even if I came with a fuckin' manual," you snap back, but there's a playful gleam to your eyes. "You gonna buy anything or just lookin' to be a pain in my ass?"

A crooked grin tugs at Cooper's mouth. "Both."

ㅡ

The truce between the two of you is tentative. An understanding in the barest sense, because neither of you are dumb enough to pass up a lucrative, beneficial deal. He gets his supplies, you get caps. Simple.

You won't go as far as to say you're even friends, up until the point that you greet him on a visit with, "You know, you remind me of somebody."

He eyes you. "Really now. And who would that be, sweetheart? You workin' with more ghouls than just me?"

You snort. "Careful," you tease, "you almost sound jealous." Your tone quiets as you drum your fingers on the counter. "Nah, you remind me of that one actor, Cooper Howard."

Cooper stills. Watches you warily, turning a spent bullet casing over and over between gloved fingers.

"He played a cowboy," you say, nodding to yourself. "Talked like you do, too. Good movies, at least the ones I've gotten my hands on." You eye him, playful light to your eyes. "Wouldn't happen to be a fan of him too, would you?"

Cooper debates. He's not sure if you've put the pieces together and if you have, you're polite enough not to say it. He appreciates that, makes that fleeting temptation of putting a bullet in your head all the more temporary. He likes you. Be a shame if he had to cut ties.

"No," he answers. "I can safely say he and I are nothin' alike." Not anymore. He lets himself lean over the counter, too close to your face. Intimidation, maybe, or perhaps just because he likes being able to look at you like this. "Got anythin' else to tell me?"

Your eyes flick over his face, down to his lips as you lean a little closer, the suggestion of your mouth just shy of his. "Yeah," you murmur, quiet. "Next time you come by, work on your fuckin' manners."

[jiyascepter]

Kitchen Confessions | 18+ Only

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Loki x f!reader

Words: 2179

Warnings/Content: fluff followed by smut, reader and Loki are roommates, argument (almost like a banter), mutual pining, idiots who won't confess their love to each other, frustrated love confessing??, p in v, creampie, kissing, nicknames (love, sweetheart, darling), oral (fem receiving), loki gives soft dom vibes??

Summary: You give Loki some silent treatment.

"Fine, I don't care about you," he says casually, with that same challenging face he always carries whenever he talks to you, asking you to react to him, argue with him. But this time, his words actually gashed.

Did he really not care? Did he actually just see you as his roommate and nothing else all this time?

There was always some chemistry and some spark between you two, and you were aware it was always more than that. That understanding between you two, that flirting, being protective of each other, you were no stranger to it that you two used to behave like couples most of the time.

But today, in this heated argument you two just had, when he said those words, it did feel as if he meant that.

You frown slightly and look him in the eyes before turning around and heading to the kitchen, not wanting to talk to him in the slightest.

He watches you leave in front of him and head to the kitchen while he stands in the living room. He can't believe you actually fell for his act of not caring. He sits down on the couch with an agitated expression on his face. You will go back to normal after a while, he knew that, as you always did after every banter.

It had been hours now, you had not even spoken a word to him. Leave that, not even glanced at him. You were ignoring his presence. And he was hating that. You were going around the house doing your business, making yourself some food, and keeping your bedroom clean.

Gosh, you didn't even come to lay on the couch beside him to watch some television today.

Now you were in the kitchen again, and he could make out you were trying to find yourself an evening snack. He decides to join you in the kitchen, his annoyance at your avoidance was growing, and he was getting very tempted to go over and pull you back beside him and keep you there.

Your back was turned to him as you were facing the kitchen counter. You felt his presence near you but decided not to look at him and continued making your light sandwich.

He walks over to you and speaks in a slightly irritated tone, forcing it, as a part of him wanted to just wrap his arms around you and pull you close. "What's the issue? Why are you avoiding me?"

You don't look at him.

"Oh for the sake of-" he grabs your arm and turns you to face him. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

As if he doesn't know. The heights of this man.

To his relief, you finally look up at him and speak in a low tone, "I don't want to talk to you." He leans in pretty much face to face and speaks softly, his words carrying a bit of irritation. "I am starting to get annoyed."

"You're always annoyed. Nothing new." you reply.

A small smile forms on his face as you say this and he sighs as he can't stay serious anymore. The way you argue and complain is almost endearing to him and he cannot help it. His irritation finally gives it's way and his eyes lock on you.

"You are quite perceptive aren't you?" he says trying to hide his smile.

"Yes I am." you say, giving him a challenging look.

He stares at your lips then back at your eyes. "I have other emotions as well, you know that right?"

"Hmm…doesn't look like it."

He tries to suppress a small smirk as he speaks. "You think all I'm capable of is being annoyed and angry?"

"Yeah."

His smirk grows as he speaks softly, getting a bit closer. "Guess you are gonna have to see more of my emotions then…"

You slightly gulp as he gets closer but keep your guard. "Which…is probably not possible…"

He chuckles softly, "Who said it's not possible?"

"I did." you say and before he could get even closer, you turn around to face the kitchen counter again. Loki rolls his eyes and grabs your waist and pulls you back as he speaks in a more firm tone now as if he's trying to get his point across.

"You can't tell me what I'll do or how I feel, sweetheart." He grabs your wrist with other hand and pulls your body more tightly into his as he pushes his chest into yours.

"Yeah, but I can guess…" You say looking at him but regretting it a second later when you notice how close his face is, making your heart beat faster.

Meanwhile Loki cannot deny that you have a point. He starts to get flustered as he notices you breathing heavily and that you both are in an intimate stance that he cannot ignore. He looks at you with longing eyes and you can see that his body language was getting quite comfortable with yours. You look at his lips then shyly look away, rolling your eyes a bit to show you're still in the argument.

Getting frustrated with your avoidance, he does the only thing he knows how to do that might provoke a reaction from you: he grabs your jaw and turns your face to him, pulling you close. He leans close so that his lips are just a few inches away from you. He breaths softly on your face and looks at your lips before speaking in a soft and quiet tone."If you are avoiding me because you want me, then it's working."

Staring at him a bit surprised he figured you out, you say nothing.

Still holding you tight he leans even closer, his eyes now fixed on your lips as he speaks in a silky voice. "You are not gonna avoid me forever. I'm not going to let you..." He finally gives in and kisses you softly on the lips, his one hand keeping you tightly against him.

You both continue making out passionately against the kitchen counter.

After a few seconds he pulls away, looking at your face and stroking your flicks out of your face. "Do you have any idea how frustrating it was just watching you walk away like that and not being able to say I want you so badly? Your body language and how close you get to me sometimes....the way you're avoiding me, all it does is make me yearn to have you more. How can you think that's gonna make me ignore you? Your beauty is so exquisite and you think I don't care about that?"

"You-" you try to think of another complaint against him but his words get to you and a blush forms on your cheeks. The way you're blushing make it really difficult for him to stay infuriated.

"Do you have any idea what it does to me when you act this way? You are driving me crazy by making me want you more than ever. It makes me want to do all sorts of things to you." He says, not even believing himself he is confessing this. He pauses as he bites his lip, not sure he can resist his strong desire to grab you and take it to the next level.

"A-all sorts of things…?" you look up at him blushing.

So all this time this man was hiding these feelings? What an actor.

"All sorts of things. You don't even want to know what I would do to you if I were your boyfriend." You felt your heart coming out of your chest with this one. You look down shyly, not knowing how to reply to him anymore as you've been proven wrong that he doesn't care about you.

"Look at me. Tell me right now that you don't feel the same way. Tell me you don't want me to touch you and I'll stop." You look up at him and your eyes give him the obvious answer.

Face flushed with your admittance, he speaks softly as he stares into your eyes, "That's it, that's all I needed." He give your waist a squeeze and speaks, "Now let me show you just how much I wanted you all this time…"

He holds you by your waist tight as he leans in and begins making out with you passionately, he doesn't hold back or show you any restraint, his hands stay on your waist and he only pulls you tighter to his body.

There is a mix of dominance and passion in the way he makes out with you and he only continues to grow more passionate with each second.

As you're making out he slowly turns you so you're facing the couch behind you. He continues making out with you as he slowly bends down a bit and picks you up so that he's holding you in his arms. He's still holding you by the waist while he slowly starts walking towards the couch, still making out with you passionately.

He puts his hands beneath your skirt and squeezes your ass before setting you on the couch. Holding him by the shirt, you pull him onto you as you groan into the kiss. He puts his hand under your skirt and pulls down your delicate panties, his tongue still entwined with yours.

He retreats from your lips, planting tender, lustful kisses around your cheeks, jaw and earlobe. Your fingers stray across his smooth shirt, brushing across his firm chest. His erection was palpable through his pants, he leans in to get between your legs, on your pubic mound.

You squeal as he puts his lips around your earlobe and gives it a tiny bite.

"Admit it," he murmurs while reaching down to have his time with your neck.

"W…what…" you say in a voice filled with ecstasy.

"Admit that you wanted me all this time too, and I wasn't imagining it." He says this, and you feel the tip of his tongue roaming up your neck.

"L-loki," you moan, clutching his shirt tightly.

"Norns… just admit it." He says it loudly, and his teeth nip at your skin, and you squirm.

"I…I admit I wanted you…" You bite your lip.

Gosh, you wanted him in already.

"Loki…"

"Patience, sweetheart." He whispers while taking his time to take off your top and pulling up your bra to expose your hardened nipples. He takes one of your nipples in between his teeth and lightly pulls at it, making you whimper. He gives your nipple a lick before leaning down and lifting your legs, along with your skirt, to fully reveal your clit to him.

"So...pretty..." he remarks, removing his share of clothes while keeping his gaze fixed on your hole.

You become even more excited to have him inside you as he shows you his erection. You had no idea when your hand reached down and into his silky hair as he leaned down to kiss your clit while holding your thighs firmly in place. He kisses your hole, teasing it, teasing it so much that it made you a needy, moaning mess.

"Loki…please…" you almost beg. He pulls away and looks at you.

"Ready for me already, love?" You nod, and he cups your face and places a kiss on your lips for a second, then pulls away to take hold of his massive cock and slowly enter your hole.

You whimper and look at his face, then his bare shoulders, and hold your hands out to hold on to him, but instead he grabs both of your hands and pins them down on the couch.

"Stay still. No touching." You let out a whine and he buries his cock further inside you as if shutting you up. He moves his hips against your body at a steady pace, occasionally leaning down to kiss your lips or bite your neck. He was increasing his speed randomly and then slowing down, torturing your sweet cunt.

"I almost feel sorry for you…" he says, grabbing hold of one of your breasts and kissing your cheeks while his cock thrashes against your pussy.

"Ahh…mm…" You moan, and his hand squeezes your breast.

He was now moving his body almost brutally fast, and you can feel yourself drawing nearer. He gives you a sidelong glance while grinning.

"You want to come, darling?" You avert your gaze to him, open your eyes, and hum in agreement.

"Come darling…come over my cock…" he growls the last part while slamming his balls near your asshole.

"Ahh…fuck…Loki!" You yelled feeling his juices pouring inside you.

Gritting his teeth, he leaned on your body, letting go of your wrists and breathing heavily, your chests touching and you could feel his weight on you.

He inhales sharply and glances at you and your physique, admiring your form. You continue to breathe heavily while beaming at him.

"Now you will know what things I would do to you now that I am your boyfriend." He says as he stoops down to kiss your cheek.

Taglist in the comments because tumblr is acting buggy again

Want to be part of my taglist? Dm, comment or click this!

[aleskyyy]

Saved — Kyle Garrick x F!Reader

Three years of marriage with your husband who you thought would change for the better and he didn't. And finally being saved by someone who has been around you all along but both of you didn't know it.

Warnings — fem!reader, light angst, unhealthy relationship, cheating (not reader), attempt of sexual assault, a bit of violence/blood, fluff, fingering, oral [fem!receiving], cum eating, 18+ MDNI, etc.

3,2k words (maybe I'll make a second part, but I don't know when).

Main Masterlist COD Masterlist

You know this is not a healthy relationship to be in. But you still hope your husband can change for the better, giving you the attention you deserve like when you were still dating. Even though you know all this is tiring, you still try to serve your husband well. Cooking food for him, cleaning the house and running errands for you and your husband.

Like right now, you are cooking dinner for you and your husband who will soon be home from work. You cook his favorite food and you hope he comes home from work in a good mood. Especially since today is the third year anniversary of your marriage. You really hope that tonight will go very well.

After your cooking is done, you look at the clock on the wall and it's already seven in the evening. Your husband should have been home half an hour ago. Without thinking about it anymore you immediately arrange the food onto the dining table. After finishing you hurry to clean yourself, you want to look very good in front of your husband.

After cleaning up, you return to sit at the dining table while waiting for your husband to come home. But until the clock strikes ten at night your husband hasn't come home. You tried calling your husband many times but there was no answer. You are very worried about him. You sigh and prepare to clear the dining table.

While clearing the table you hear the door being rudely opened making you rush over. You see your husband come home drunk and with his clothes all messed up. You rush towards him wanting to help him walk but he pushes you roughly.

"Dante, why are you home so late? I've been waiting for you and called you but you didn't answer," you tell him in a worried tone.

You again try to help your husband walk ignoring the smell of the woman's perfume and the color of the lipstick printed on your husband's shirt. You try to get rid of the bad thoughts that cross your head. This must be a one time mistake, your husband won't do it again. You're sure of this.

It's been two weeks since the incident with your husband you are currently shopping for supplies that have been emptied. You're so serious about looking at every shelf in the super market that you accidentally bump into someone in front of you with the trolley you're using. Your eyes widened and you tried to apologize to the man in front of you.

"Oh my God, I'm really sorry. Does anything hurt?" you asked in a panicked tone. The man in front of you just laughs softly while shaking his head.

"No, ma'am. I'm fine," he says casually.

But you're not sure he's really okay, you're sure you hit him a little hard earlier. You try to look at him to see if he's really okay. But your gaze is distracted as you look at his handsome face, which is very sweet in your opinion. A gentle look on his face as he turned to look at you.

"I really apologize. I should have paid more attention to my surroundings," you say feeling embarrassed.

"It's okay. I'm Kyle by the way," he introduced himself with a smile on his face.

"Kyle..." you spell his name softly. Then introduced yourself to him with a smile.

"So, did you shop alone or with someone with this much groceries?" Kyle said as he pointed at the items in your trolley.

You look at your almost full trolley, you didn't think it would be this much. Especially since you came here by taxi. You really regret it now.

"Ah no, I'm alone," you reply as you push your trolley again.

You thought Kyle would leave after hearing your answer but you were wrong he walked after you. You walk side by side while talking casually, Kyle even helps you pick up the items on the high shelves. When you have finished shopping you smile happily because you were faster than usual, thanks to Kyle. You looked at him with a smile full of gratitude.

"Thank you Kyle, you shouldn't have helped me. But I'm really grateful and once again sorry for bumping into you earlier," you say to Kyle who smiles at you.

"I said I was fine, and I was happy to help you too," Kyle replies.

"But I made you stay longer, even though you didn't shop as much as I did," you say pointing at the groceries in his hand.

Kyle just laughs. He walks with you to the cashier. After you guys finished paying, Kyle took more of your shopping bags and helped you carry them out. You try to take your shopping bags from his hands but he still wants to carry your stuff.

"So where's your car?" Kyle asks.

You feel embarrassed again, you should have brought a car but your husband's car suddenly didn't start so he brought your car to work instead.

"I took a taxi here, just leave it and I'll find a taxi," you reply as you put down the groceries you're carrying.

"Let me take you home," he invites.

You can only shake your head. You've just met, you don't want to take any chances. Besides, it's not good to go home with another man when your husband isn't home. Kyle seemed to know what you were thinking, trying to calm you down.

"Believe me I'm not a criminal who would kidnap people," he said with a laugh.

You laughed stiffly at his words, Kyle who saw your expression at his unhelpful words scratched the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile.

"I'm sorry, I just want to help you that's all," he said.

You tried to consider his request. If you went with Kyle you wouldn't spend any more money than you had to. Finally, you nodded your head in acceptance of Kyle's invitation. Hopefully you made the right choice. Kyle carries your groceries back to the jeep that you believe belongs to him.

You try to help Kyle put your groceries in but he takes them all and puts them in by himself. Then he opens the passenger door and lets you in. Even your husband when you were still dating until now has never opened the car door for you. You thank Kyle and he follows you into the car. After starting the car Kyle asks where you live.

"What?" Kyle says after hearing where you live. You think he didn't hear you so you repeat yourself.

"I heard what you said, I just didn't expect you to live there," he says with a chuckle.

You looked at Kyle with a puzzled expression. "Why?"

"Because I also live there, if you know the house at the end of the street is my house," he said.

"That's your house?"

"Yes."

"But as far as I know it's often empty," you confirmed.

Kyle just nodded in confirmation of your words. "Because I rarely go home, if I come home from duty I always sleep in the barracks."

"You're a soldier?" You asked in a surprised. Kyle just nods answer your question while smiling at you briefly then refocuses on the road.

When you got to the road, you showed Kyle which one was your house. Until now you still don't believe that you and Kyle are neighbors because you've never seen him. Or maybe it's because you have a hard time socializing, is what you think.

When you get to the front of your house you panic seeing your car in the garage. It's a sign that your husband is home, but it's still noon and not even lunchtime. You and Kyle get out of the car to get your groceries. Before you can thank Kyle you hear your husband's voice yelling your name. You're so grateful that it's quiet in your neighborhood so you don't become the talk of the neighbors.

"I'm sorry, it looks like my husband came home early," you say while holding your groceries.

"Husband?" You hear the hesitant tone of Kyle's question.

"Oh God, I forgot to tell you that I'm married. I'm really so–"

Once again your husband's voice rang out loudly calling your name. You see your husband standing at the door looking at you and Kyle. Your heart was beating fast, you were afraid that your husband would get angry and do something bad.

"I apologize in advance and thank you for your help, Kyle," you say as you run a little with your groceries.

Kyle who saw you struggling to carry the groceries wants to help but he doesn't want to interfere in someone's household. But Kyle felt angry when he saw you struggling to carry the groceries but your husband didn't help. Still standing by his car, he saw your husband violently close the door to the house. Kyle sighed harshly, he was just attracted to someone but it turned out that the person he liked was married.

It's been three days since he met you, but Kyle is still thinking about you. He feels something odd that makes him not stop thinking about you. He knows he's wrong, you're married and he shouldn't be thinking about someone else's wife. But Kyle felt something was wrong. Since that day, every morning he did his morning running past your house but didn't see you come out of the house. He didn't even see your husband go to work.

It was the fifth day he saw you come out and it looked like your husband wasn't home. You were watering the plants in the yard. Kyle walked up to you and called out to you, making you startle and accidentally splash Kyle with water.

"Kyle!" you yell in surprise at him.

You frantically disconnect the water hose and walk towards Kyle. You tried to dry his face with your hands, Kyle could only laugh and said it was fine. Hearing the sound of his laughter makes you laugh too. Your hands return to your sides. You look at the surrounding area which is quiet because people have gone to work.

"Is your husband home?"

Hearing Kyle's question about your husband makes the smile on your face disappear. Ever since your husband saw you coming home with Kyle he had become more grumpy, especially with your husband having been fired from the company making him dare to hit you when he was angry with you.

"He went out," you reply. The truth is that you don't even know where your husband is at the moment.

Seeing the change on your face made Kyle try to change the subject. But before he could ask about anything else Kyle's eyes caught the bruise under your eye. Even though he knew you were trying to cover it up with makeup, he was sure it was a bruise. Kyle walks slowly towards you and holds your face gently which makes you surprised by his actions.

"What's wrong with your face?" he asked. His voice sounds different in your ears. You instinctively held the bruise under your eye. The bruise caused by your husband last night. You try to smile and answer that you fell in the bathroom last night and hit your face. But Kyle can see through your lie. He moves away from you a little, afraid that if anyone sees your closeness, it will become a problem for you.

"You know I'm here if you need anything, right? I can help you anytime, if I'm not home you can call me."

Kyle looked for something in his pants pocket and found a pen and a small book that he always carried around. He wrote down the number and tore off the paper to give it to you. You can only be silent while accepting it. You are so grateful to have someone like Kyle in your life even though you have only known him for a few days.

"Thank you Kyle, you have no idea how helpful you are right now," you say with a grateful smile.

Tonight you're cooking for your husband who hasn't come home yet, the rain is pouring down with thunder and lightning. As you finish cooking you hear your husband's voice with someone else's voice that you never heard. You walk up to your husband and see a man who looks older than him.

"Dante, who is that?" you ask. But your husband is only silent while looking at the man who is with him. He whispers something to the man then walks out and drives back in his car.

"You know I paid a lot of money for this with your husband. I hope you taste as good as he says," the stranger says.

You try to process the situation in front of you. You try to run towards the door but are quickly stopped by the man. The man pulls you towards the sofa in the living room, he tries to rip off the clothes you are wearing. With all your might you try to escape his grasp. You grabbed the man's face and pressed your thumb on his right eye until he screamed and blood came out of it. He immediately releases you and holds his eye.

"Bitch!" he yelled at you.

Before he could touch you again, you picked up the vase on the table and smashed it on the man's head. After that you ran outside barefoot. The area near your house looks empty because of the heavy rain. You run towards Kyle's house at the end of the street. You hoped he was still home and not on duty.

When you get to Kyle's house, you knock on his door with all your might. Tears are already mixing with the rainwater on your face. Your body shakes with fear and cold. You feel like you're going to faint if Kyle doesn't open the door. He looks at you with a worried face and brings you in. Kyle hugs you from the side to take you inside his house. He finds clothes and towels for you to wear. He takes you to the bathroom and asks you to change without demanding any explanation from you. When you come out of the bathroom Kyle takes you to the kitchen and makes you some hot tea.

"If you're calmer and want to talk I'll listen," Kyle says as he places the hot tea in front of you.

"He wanted to sell me, my husband wanted to sell me to someone and that person was still in my house when I ran away. I wounded his eyes and hit his head with a vase. And I don't know if he's still there or not," you explain in a trembling voice. Your tears fall again remembering what just happened to you.

You see Kyle taking his cell phone out of his pocket and calling someone, you can only hear a little of what he's saying. All you know is that he's on the phone with someone he calls captain and there are strange words like 'ghost' and 'soap'. You try to calm yourself down and drink the tea Kyle made. Kyle sits back down next to you and holds your hand gently.

"Everything will be fine, maybe tomorrow I need you to answer some questions. So you can sleep here, I'll prepare a guest room for you," he said while stroking your hand.

And sure enough, the next day Kyle somehow got all the information about your husband. Even your husband was linked to the drug dealer. Kyle also got information about the man last night that you confirmed with his picture in the file. And a few hours later you hear the news that your husband and the man last night were arrested by the police but unfortunately the car carrying them crashed leaving your husband and the man dead on the spot. You know this all seems strange, but you ignore it all. In fact, you feel relieved when you hear the news. You didn't even come to your husband's funeral and let his family take care of it.

You're washing dishes when you feel hands around your waist. You feel little kisses being placed on your neck. You can only laugh amusedly when your neck is bitten lightly.

"Kyle! I'm washing dishes here. Don't distract me," you said with a laugh. Kyle just laughed while kissing your cheek lightly.

It's been two years since that night, and one year since you and Kyle got together. He's been patiently waiting for you to open your heart to someone else ever since that night. He even moved out of the neighborhood and took you with him so that you wouldn't remember what happened that night. He took you to a house near the house of a man named John Price. And you know John Price is his captain and also the person who helped you that night.

"I want to take you out to dinner tonight. I hope you'll wear the red dress we bought earlier," Kyle said. His hand moved to graze your inner thigh which was only covered by his t-shirt.

"Tonight?"

Kyle just cleared his throat and went back to kissing your neck while giving a small bite there. His hand slowly touched your pussy from outside the underwear you were wearing. Kyle carried you straight to your room when he saw you finished washing the dishes. He immediately laid you on the bed and pinned you there.

"What are you doing, handsome?" You ask in a flirting tone that makes him laugh.

"You know what I'm going to do," Kyle said as he took off his your t-shirt. Leaving you with only your underwear.

Kyle kisses you passionately again, he plays with your breasts making you moan his name. Kyle is always gentle with you and focuses on your needs first. His kisses move down your neck and bite there, leaving a lot of hickeys. Then he brings his mouth to your breasts, taking turns sucking on them. He sucks one of your breasts and lightly nibbles on the other.

Kyle goes back down to your pussy and kisses it from outside the underwear you're wearing. His tongue plays with your pussy and makes you moan loudly and your back arches. Kyle quickly takes off your underwear and throws it in a random direction. His lips went back to kissing your pussy and suckling your clit.

Kyle puts one of his fingers inside your pussy and moves it slowly. Soon he fastens his movements after inserting another finger there and curls his finger on your tight walls which makes you cry out his name loudly. He also goes back to kissing your pussy and gives your clit a gentle bite. Your breathing has become ragged and your lower abdomen is tightening. Soon you will come and Kyle knows it so he quickens his hand movements and kisses your pussy even more.

"Kyle I'm coming, please, please, Kyle..."

"Come baby, come in my mouth."

Your hand gripped his hair as you came. Your body trembles and your toes curl. As you came Kyle kept licking your pussy which was leaking cum.

"Tonight baby, tonight I will fuck you so hard. I love you so much," Kyle said. He glanced at the bedside table drawer for a moment. Let's hope tonight goes well.

[roxygen22]

following this beautiful sickness ask trend...female reader fainting due to stress & her having a small argument with/getting scolded by Timothée while he takes care of her?🩷👀

Can't

You could hear the rumble of Timothée voice, but you were unable to focus on his words. While he chattered on while looking at his laptop right beside you, it sounded like he was rooms away. It took all of your energy and mental faculties to focus on just trying to breathe. Black spots crowded your line of sight as you put a hand out onto the counter to stabilize yourself. The motion caught Timothée's attention.

"[Y/N]?" he asked in concern.

"I-," was all you could mutter before your knees buckled. Timothée jumped from the bar stool to catch you as you fainted. "Whoa, [Y/N]! [Y/N]!" He gently lowered you to the ground and laid you on your back. He shook your shoulders and patted your cheeks. "Come on, [Y/N]. Wake up!"

Your eyelids fluttered and he released a shuddered breath in relief. You looked around, momentarily confused.

"You passed out. Again." Timothée looked down at your face in disapproval. "When was the last time you ate anything? Drank any water?" He helped you slowly sit up and lean against the couch.

"I'm fine. Stop fussing," you said, embarrassed.

"Stop fus- Listen here. YOU aren't the one who has to watch YOU faint. It is scary as hell. Every time I am terrified that you aren't going to wake up. One of these days I'm not going to be here to catch you before you hit the ground. Now. Answer me." He furrowed his brow and locked eyes with you. "When was the last time you ate or drank anything?"

Your eyes fell. "I don't know."

"You have to stop overworking yourself. You have to take breaks and take care of yourself."

"I know, but the success of the project I've spent YEARS of my life on comes down to getting this one thing right. I can't stop."

"Dammit, [Y/N], it's not worth your health," he shouted. "You need to slow down. The world, this project, will not collapse if you take 15 minutes here and there to take care of yourself."

"I CAN'T, TIMOTHÉE," you snapped.

Timothée recoiled slightly at your reaction. "And I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore," he said quietly. He got up, grabbed his keys and wallet, and walked out.

You stared at the door with your mouth agape in disbelief for a solid two minutes before tears clouded your vision. You and he have had heated arguments before, but never once had he walked out. He's right, you thought to yourself. You won't be doing anyone any good if you end up hospitalized.

You shakily stood, pushing yourself up using the frame of the couch for support. You slowly walked to the refrigerator and refilled your water bottle. Nauseous and lacking energy needed to make a meal, you opted to snack on crackers instead. You traipsed back to the couch and all but collapsed with your kitchen haul in hand. You hadn't stopped and relaxed in so long, you really weren't sure what to do next. Before you could grab the TV remote, you heard keys unlocking the front door. Timothée stepped through.

"I couldn't leave knowing that I just left you on the floor." He shrugged, hands in his pockets, unable to make eye contact.

"I'm glad you did."

His head shot up as he gave you a questioning look, unsure if he heard you correctly.

"It was uncharacteristic enough to shock me to my senses. You were right. No job is worth my health, and certainly not worth losing you over. I'm sorry, Timothée."

"I don't want an apology. I want to see action. Shut down that laptop for the night. Relax. Be with me. Please."

"Deal," you smiled and patted the seat next to you on the couch.

<><><><><>

Masterlist

Tag List: @groovyqueer, @bluizh, @jindongdongie, @croatianprincess

[sweetbans29]

Spoken For - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You and Caitlin may be a little too discreet when it comes to your relationship - Based on THIS request

Warnings: hidden relationship, slight angst

Word Count: 3.7k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: GAH this is such a cute idea - I hope you all enjoy! Let me know what you think in the comments.

You met Caitlin in middle school. Both of you played club basketball and were always at the same tournaments. Your teams faced off pretty often and you got to know how she played. It made it even more interesting when your coach had you guard her frequently - learning how she was almost unstoppable. The two of you talked here and there, mostly about basketball whenever you did see each other and were in a space where conversation was required.

It wasn't until eighth grade that things sort of took a turn. It was at a tournament that both of your teams had to travel to. When you got there, your team went to watch Caitlin's play - seeing how they were doing before you had to take them on yourselves.

While you were watching them - you noticed Caitlin looking over at you semi-frequently. At first, you thought nothing of it, but as she kept doing it you started to give her little nods. When the game ended and they were dismissed for a rest break, you saw her walk up in your direction.

"Hey CC," you say as you greet her.

She comes up and gives you a half hug - something that wasn’t super common for the two of you.

“You ready to go down?” She says with a little smirk and gets up in your space.

“In your dreams,” you say with a laugh and give her shoulder a little push. “I think the question is, can you put up with losing to me again?” You say as you stare her down - not willing to be the first to step down from a verbal smackdown.

The last time your two teams went up against each other it was absolute carnage. There were times when both of your coaches had to pull you from the game to not get ejected by the refs. Each of your coaches knows how competitive each of you is - knowing losing is not an option. But to you and Caitlin, it was genuinely all fun. It was rare to have someone be as competitive as the two of you and when you face off - it is one of the most captivating games to watch.

“The only reason your team won last time was because Coach pulled me in the last quarter so he wouldn't lose me for the rest of the tournament. You won't be as lucky this time," she says and you just shake your head with a little laugh. Both of your teams are now moving on to their next destinations. She begins to walk past you but doesn't leave without saying, "Plus, my dreams about you are much different." You question if you heard her right, you look up at her and start to feel the blush creep into your cheeks. She gives you a wink as she follows her team, leaving you there flustered.

The rest of that tournament is filled with stolen glances and a little too-aggressive plays. Nothing to get either of you tossed from the game but enough to keep the two of your bodies close enough to keep the electricity running through your veins. Playing against her this time was different. She never went easy on you but there was a different energy that both of you were aware of. It didn't help that you couldn't get what she said out of your head. Was she just messing around and making a joke or was there more behind what she said?

In your final game against her team, you noticed there was a bigger shift in your relationship with Caitlin. During the second quarter, you got fouled pretty bad by a girl on her team and you fell, getting the wind knocked out of you. It took you a second before you were able to get up - you waved off your coach and really anyone who was trying to help you up. You just needed a second to refill your lungs. Once you were back, Cait pushed her way through your team and was the one who insisted on helping you up once you were ready. She grabbed your hand to help you up and then patted you on the shoulder, making sure you were alright. You give her a nod and the game continues. Throughout the rest of the game, Caitlin would keep brushing your hand. At first, you didn't think much of it as it happens often when you are playing defense. But kept happening. And then it changed. After you have been on her defense and she just put up a three. The crowd cheered and you both headed back, you running to offense and her to defense when you feel it. Your hands touch briefly and when they do, her pinky hooks with yours - only for a second, but long enough to know that it happened.

The two of you started talking outside of seeing each other at tournaments. It began with texting about basketball or sending each other the occasional snap of each of you dying after practice, saying something along the lines of the other going down. Before you knew it, you two were texting or talking every day and some days even all day.

You found out that the two of you had a lot in common outside of basketball. Granted, a lot of the time you talked, it was about basketball.

It was a few weeks before summer that the two of you found out you would be going to the same high school, meaning you would be playing on the same team for the first time in either of your basketball careers. It was exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time.

During your high school years, you grow close to Caitlin. The two of you become best friends on the first day of freshman year. It wasn't surprising to you since you spent the better half of the last 6 months talking nonstop. When practices started, the two of you became inseparable. From then on, you did everything together.

It was the summer before sophomore year that you two decided being friends wasn't enough. It happened on a random Tuesday night when you brought up that one tournament that was the starting point of your friendship. Caitlin came clean and told you she had been crushing on you hard since the tournament where you both almost got ejected in the same game. It was a total surprise to you but you would be lying to say you weren't feeling the same way. Except for you, it was the tournament where your hands kept touching.

The two of you established your relationship before heading into sophomore year. You decided it would be best to keep your relationship just between the two of you, not wanting it to interfere with the two of you being on the same team.

It was junior year when both of you were signed to play D1 basketball. Caitlin at the University of Iowa and you at UConn. It was both an exciting time and a sad one. Your schools weren't close at all but you both knew you didn't want to separate when you left - you were it for one another.

It was the winter break of your senior year when the two of you went to the courthouse. Both of your parents were there, along with Caitlin's brothers. It was at Thanksgiving that you told both of your parents you wanted to get married. They tried talking the two of you out of it but neither of you budged. Neither you nor Caitlin had any doubts that this wasn't what you wanted. The two of you knew you wanted to to spend the rest of your lives together - even if that meant being a part for a few years to live out both of your dreams. Even at the courthouse, your parents were still hesitant but they let the two of you get married.

The summer after senior year of high school held some of the best days and hardest days you have ever had. Caitlin and you were finally able to take a mini honeymoon to the East Coast, spending your days on the beach. Shortly after, you were both called off to your respective schools - going back to being competitors on the court instead of teammates. The goodbye was one of the hardest things you have ever had to endure, Caitlin as well.

Before you left, you both decided to keep your marriage just between the two of you. Neither of you wanted/needed the backlash of it going into this next chapter and you both knew the other was there regardless of the distance between you.

Starting college was a pretty easy transition for both of you - the hardest part was being away from one another. You talked daily, usually calling at night or early in the morning. And every break you had was spent at home with one another. Every school break, long weekend, and break in practice had you two visiting one another.

It wasn't until a certain practice that Caitlin started to question if keeping you to herself was going to be possible for much longer.

"Hey Caitlin, I have this friend who has had an eye out for you since the season started." One of her teammates mentions while they are stretching before a practice.

Caitlin laughs and says, "Okay...and?"

"I want to set you guys up on a date. Are you free this Friday?" She asks. The other girls around them encourage Cait to get out there. She has been the only person on the team who hasn't taken any interest in relationships.

"I am not going," Caitlin says. No explanation, no reason. Just a no.

"Why not? It could be really fun! It would benefit you to loosen up a little bit," her teammate says.

Just as Caitlin is about to respond, they are called to start drills.

Practice goes well, and they are feeling good about their upcoming game. The girls make their way to the locker room and are all packing up when the topic is brought up again.

"So...Friday," Cait's teammate brings it back around to get her out of the house on a Friday night.

"What about it?" Cait says with a little laugh.

"Will you go?" She asks. "On the blind date?"

"I am not going on a date on Friday," Caitlin says again. She grabs her back and is ready to head home for the night to call you. She thinks you will find it quite entertaining that her team is trying to get her to go out.

"Well just think about it and we can revisit the topic tomorrow."

Caitlin states again that she is not going but instead of fighting her teammate on it now, she would rather be at home talking to you.

On her walk home, she calls you.

"Hey babe," you say when you answer your phone, wedging it between your shoulder and your ear. Your hands preoccupied with folding laundry.

"Hi," she says and takes a deep sigh. "I miss you."

"I miss you." You respond and take your phone in your hand again. You are sitting on the floor of your apartment with two piles of laundry taunting you. You sit back, leaning against your couch, and bring your knees up to your chest. "I miss you more than you can imagine. What is it another 3 weeks before we get to see each other?"

"Not soon enough," Caitlin says, chest squeezing a little tighter hearing how much you miss her.

The two of you knew this was going to be hard, but it was so much harder than either of you imagined. Going from being with each other every day of the week to every other month, if you're lucky, has taken a toll on your marriage.

"I have sort of a funny story to tell you," Cait continues, nervous all of the sudden.

"And what is that babe?" You ask, hearing a shift in her tone. You think it is the cutest when she gets nervous around you. She never gets nervous around anyone.

"My teammates are trying to set me up on a date this Friday," she says, not knowing how you are going to react. You are a little shocked but also find it kind of comical. Not that Caitlin wasn't dateable, you knew first hand she was. It was the fact that she never showed any sort of interest in anyone but you.

"Sounds like junior year of high school all over again." You say with a little laugh.

Caitlin's memory takes her back to junior year when the team kept bugging her about turning down Sam Anderson's prom proposal.

"I completely forgot about that! The team wouldn't drop it!" Caitlin says, a smile on her face as she laughs about the old memory.

"Well duh they wouldn't drop it, he was the hottest guy in our class," you say with a little laugh of your own.

"Hey!" She says offended that you just called someone other than her hot.

"Babe, you know I am yours," you say full-on laughing now.

"I can't believe you just called Sam Anderson hot. I will never forget that," Cait says.

"Ya, ya, ya. I am more interested in who they are trying to set you up with on Friday," you say. No jealousy, just pure interest.

"I have no idea," Caitlin says with a little puff. "I just wish people would stay out of my love life, it is doing just fine."

This causes a little sink in your heart. You know everything is fine between the two of you. But the adjustment has you both feeling like a piece of you is missing.

"I know babe, but it is a sweet thing. Your team wants to see you happy and part of that is being with someone." You say, knowing there is nothing you could do to make this any better.

"I am happy! I am happily married! I have all that I need and I don't need anyone digging into that." She says frustrated.

"Hey, Caitlin it's okay baby," you say trying to calm her. "You don't have to go - just tell them that you are busy."

"They are just going to keep pushing, it was brought up three times in 2 hours. They aren't just going to drop it." Caitlin fights back.

"Then tell them you are married!" You say. This wasn't part of the plan but hearing how frustrated Cait was, your firs thought was to screw the plan.

"No, that's not part of the plan. It hasn't even been a full year! We are sticking to the plan and that's final!" Caitlin yells. She doesn't know why she is yelling.

"Then go on the date!" You yell back. Frustration now seeing out of you. You feel a tear make its way down your cheek.

Caitlin doesn't know what to say - never in a million years would she imagine hearing you say to go out with someone. Nobody came close to you in her eyes. That is when she realized how much this was all taking a toll on you. Not just in this instance but when it happened in high school. Whenever someone made a comment about how amazing Caitlin is and how she is going to make so many heads turn. All the talk was always about her and never about you.

"Babe, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so worked up," she says just above a whisper. Caitlin hates that she let this all get to her, so much so that it was her doing that had you sitting on your floor crying.

You sniffle and bring your hand to your head. You don't know what to say. You didn't mean it when you told her she should go on the date, it came out in frustration and you instantly regretted it.

"I know," you choke out. "Hey Cait, I need to go," you say still sniffling. "I need to finish some things before heading to bed."

"No wait, I don't want you to go in this state," she says in a little bit of a panic. "Just stay on the line with me and we can talk about something else - I don't want us to end today like this." It was a little last-ditch plea.

"I'm tired Cait, we can talk tomorrow. I love you," you say, tears streaming down your face.

Caitlin hates this.

"I love you," she says and hears you hang up.

You don't mean to be this curt with Caitlin. You have been under a lot of stress as of late between schoolwork and basketball and not having her with you kept you on constant edge. Talking to her every day has helped but you missed her presence, having her near. The calm that she brought you is one that you haven't felt since both of you went off to uni.

The next day rolls around and Caitlin's teammate texts her about setting her up. Caitlin ignores it and gets going with her day.

The two of you talk that morning - both apologizing for how the conversation the night before went. You both decide to take a quick weekend trip and meet in the middle for the weekend, knowing you both need time with each other, even it if is less than 48 hours.

Just knowing you are going to be in Caitlin's arms soon is enough to give you a push through the week.

Caitlin on the other hand is itching to see you. She begins to count down the hours until she is back with you.

When she arrives to practice, she jumps right in as if it will make time move faster.

During practice, the team takes a quick water break.

"Hey Caitlin, have you thought about Friday?" Her teammate asks. "I told them about you and they are looking forward to getting to know you."

"I told you I am not going," Caitlin says. Not this again. "Plus I am not going to be here this weekend."

"Okay well then Thursday would work," her teammate says clearly not dropping the topic.

"How many times do I have to tell you I am not going?" Caitlin says in disbelief that her team is pushing this so hard.

Another one of her teammates speaks up, "We just want to see you happy, you seem so tense all the time."

"Trust me, I am fine. I'll be better after this weekend," Caitlin says as she thinks about spending it with you.

"Just a few hours, it won't hurt anyone," they continue to pry.

Caitlin gets fed up with them all trying to force this on her when she has made it clear she is not going. Even if they got her to go on this date, she knew they wouldn't stop until she started seeing someone.

It is at this moment that the plan of you two waiting until after college to reveal your marriage flies out the window.

"I am not going on the date because I am not a cheater!" Caitlin practically yells and sits down. Everyone just looks at her with confusion.

Caitlin, with her face in her hands, brings something out from her shirt. It is the chain of her necklace. Everyone knew she wore a necklace but no one knew what was hanging at the end since it was always tucked away in her shirt. She finds the end and pulls out a ring. It is the ring you exchanged in the courtroom that one beautiful winter afternoon.

She takes out the ring and places it on her ring finger, which causes even more confused looks from all of those around her.

"I am not going on that date because I am married," she says and all the girls go crazy. All of them in unbelief of this plot twist their friend and teammate were holding from them.

They pull her up and start pushing her around in excitement that their friend is not only seeing someone but is MARRIED.

"This is actually insane!" One girl says. Caitlin hears things like 'There is no way', 'How has she kept it a secret for this long', and 'When were you married, we are so young'.

The one thing going through Caitlin's mind is how she is going to explain this to you. Her beloved plan - poof, gone just like that.

All the girls are too excited to get back to practice but somehow manage to get through it.

Before she knows it, Caitlin is on a plane heading to Colomub, OH. The two of you planned it so you would arrive within half an hour of each other. Her being the first to arrive.

When she lands, she checks the arrival board and begins to make her way to where your plan gets in. She walks up just as they open the door.

Your plane starts to de-board and you grab your overnight bag. As you make your way off the plane you look at your phone to see if there is any update from Caitlin. You have no notifications from her, just your coach about everyone's home workouts for the weekend.

As you get off the plane you begin to look around to see which way you need to go when you see your favorite person in the world, standing there, waiting for you.

You immediately run up to her and jump into her arms, dropping your bags in the process.

She squeezes you so tightly, that it is hard to breathe. Not that you care.

"Caitlin," you say as you inhale her scent. Missing her was an understatement.

"Hi baby," she says as she finally puts you down. You grab your bag and take her hand. When you look down at your fingers intertwined.

"Babe, you're wearing your ring!" You say in surprise.

"Well, I may or may not have told the team that I have a wife and have been married since high school..." she says hoping there would have been at least some time for them to just be together before she had to tell you that her plan is no longer the plan. She prepares for you to rip her a new one.

When you don't immediately react, she looks over at you.

You just squeeze her hand and lean into her.

"So much for your precious plan," you say with a little laugh as the two of you walk out of the airport.

AN: Thank you for this fun request! Let me know what you think! And as always, thanks for your love and support 🤍