#i'm sorry but if you care about someone you do not go out of your way to repeatedly post unflattering pictures of them

[woso-dreamzzz]

Oops

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: It was an accident

"Sorry," Jessie says again," I mean it. I really am."

"I know, Jess."

"I didn't mean for it to happen, honestly!"

"I know, Jess."

"I don't deserve forgiveness."

"It's not that bad, Jess. Barely even an injury."

Jessie looks at you incredulously, brows raised to her hairline.

You're sitting in a hospital bed. Your face is covered in scratches and bruises and your arm is firmly stuck in a cast. Your shirt is torn up from your tumble, ripped in random places and you're pretty sure your legs were only spared because you were wearing your heavy-duty jeans.

Jessie was new on the team but not new to you.

You'd transferred from your childhood team Manchester City just last year to the Portland Thorns for more game time. Jessie had been your long-term girlfriend for a while back then and when she'd moved to the Thorns a few months ago, you'd been ecstatic.

You just wish you'd had the hindsight to tell her to stay away from your skateboards.

"I feel awful," Jessie continues," Does it hurt bad? Do you need the doctor again?"

"Jessie," You say," They're just getting the discharge paperwork. Please don't make them keep me here longer than needed."

Jessie bites her lip, like she always does when she's feeling nervous.

It had been an accident on her part.

You had been out with Jessie on a date with your skateboard and was standing on it at the top of a set of steps, contemplating going down the railings.

Only Jessie had been bumped into by someone in the crowd and had then bumped into you, sending you careening down the stairs.

"I guess I'm stuck in the stands for a bit," You joke, laughing slightly before stopping when you see her face.

Jessie looks distraught over the whole thing, halfway to tears at your bedside.

"Jessie, babe," You say," Come here."

You pat the portion of bed beside you and Jessie shakes her head.

"No," She says," No, I hurt you."

"It was an accident. it wasn't even your fault. You got barged into first."

"But you get hurt. I broke your arm."

"Technically, the stairs broke my arm."

"And your face-"

"It'll heal."

"Stop making excuses! You're hurt and you can't play!"

You grin at her dopily. "Some things are more important than playing."

Jessie nods along seriously. "Healing, you're right."

A little bark of laughter bubbles out of your throat. "I was going to say watching you play but trust you to think about my health."

"Well, one of us has to care! You're being very blasé about this!"

"Jessie, come here."

"I-"

"Jess, please?"

She shuffles onto the bed with you and you throw your arm over her shoulder, pulling her closer into you until there's barely a gap between you.

"I'll be fine," You tell her, staring into her eyes," It was a clean break. No surgery. Just a cast. I'll be fine in a few months. It wasn't your fault. I won't hear you saying otherwise."

"But-"

"No, Jess. It was just a horrible accident. That's it."

You're not usually this firm with her but Jessie, your sweet girlfriend was spiralling like always and you were adamant about her not shouldering the blame herself.

"I didn't mean to," She says, eyes wet with unshed tears and you tuck her head into your neck.

"I know, Jess, I know. It's okay. Just a freak accident. I shouldn't have been on my board in the first place."

Jessie's short hiccupping laughter fills your ears. "No, you shouldn't have. We need to throw them away when we get home."

"Would that help you sleep better?"

She nods.

"Alright. Can we sell them though? Because, you know, some of them are worth enough to make serious money. We can redo the kitchen."

You can feel Jessie smile into your neck. "Only if we promise we can have a breakfast bar."

"Breakfast bar and a reading nook," You agree," But I've got to be allowed to keep one board."

"Not the one from today."

You kiss the top of her head. "No, not the one from today."

[shoyudon]

𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐈 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 .ᐟ

them forgetting a date night.

starring. gojo, sukuna, toji x fem! reader

heads up. cursing, no fluff, sukuna can use a phone (bcs u taught him lol /j), sukuna calling u "woman"

note. haiii, how are you guys doing? make sure to take care of yourself!! i'm feeling a bit angsty today, so i'm gonna write a bit of angst. i miss gojo, like so much u guys :( i might make a part two for this btw hehe

──────〃★ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

the one thing you hated more than people being late was people who don't keep their promises — your boyfriend wasn't an exception to it. gojo's a busy man, you get it. for months you haven't been able to see him because he was so caught up in the jujutsu world; he saves people dan and night from lingering curses that it broke you a bit.

the jujutsu world treats him like a weapon; and you never liked it. despite your constant battering on him, trying to get him to quit and just settled in for a quiet life, he tells you that he can't. that people needed him, and you felt selfish.

but isn't it fine to be selfish sometimes?

clutching onto your phone, you'd tried dialing gojo's number at least six times before he answers. his voice groggy and slow, as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep, "huh . . . hello?"

you wanted to yell at him, especially because he was the one who has been reminding you about this particular date night — and he was the one to forget about it, "good sleep?" you ended up asking him, voice hard.

"y/n . . . why did you—"

"why did i call? oh, i don't know. maybe because my boyfriend stood me up for an hour and a half. i look like an idiot sitting here, satoru," you mutter out in embarrassment, avoiding the lingering gazes from both waiters and waitresses around you.

for the past hour, you've lost count of how many times you'd ask them to refill your glass of tea — embarrassing. then telling them you were waiting for someone when they tried to ask you if you were going to order anything since there were people waiting for a table, just for the said person not showing up.

"what time is— oh, fuck. baby, i'm so sorry, i fell asleep when i was work—"

before he could finish his words, you finished it for him, "working. i get it, you're always working. clearly, you don't have time for anything else, right?" you ask him, signaling the waiter nearby for the bill.

"baby, i know. i'm so sorry, i'm on my way, okay? please," he whispers. you could hear a few shuffling on the background; along with a few curses he muttered under his breath as he stumble over his feet, mind hazy from all the sudden movements he was doing despite just waking up.

"no need. i'm leaving the place," you mutter, walking out of the restaurant — heels clacking on the pavement, "and 'm leaving you, because clearly you're not ready for a relationship, so bye."

gojo yells out, "what? no, baby. i swear — i'll make it up to you, please. don't leave me . . ." he rambled on the same words over and over again, "where are you? i'm picking you up. please, can we talk about this? i'm sorry, i know i should've—"

"bye, satoru," and with that you ended the call.

──────〃★ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍

you fiddled the hem of your dress as you sat inside the almost closed restaurant, the last speck of hope you had on your boyfriend —sukuna— dissipating into hopelessness. standing up you walked over to the cashier, taking out your card to pay for the one glass of shrimp cocktail and one glass of white wine.

the cashier shot you a sympathetic look, and you didn't dare to look her into her eyes. face hard from embarrassment and shame, "thank you for coming, come again next time, ma'am . . ." she bids you goodbye as she returns your card.

walking out of the restaurant that now had the 'closed' sign flipped made your stomach churn in mixed feelings: anger, embarrassment, shame, sadness, everything all at once.

sinking your nails onto the palm of your hand, you muttered out strings of curses. you knew being in a relationship with someone who had no understanding to the concept of love was a hard thing — but honestly, you thought you got a hang of it. all this time you had been nothing but patient with sukuna, but maybe even that wasn't enough for him.

three hours. you sat alone inside the restaurant you booked for the both of you for three hours — each hour depleting your hope even more. and sukuna just managed to fuck it up even after he said he'd try. well, you should've underlined the keyword there: he said he'd try not that he'd come.

maybe you saw it coming yet it still disappointed you anyways.

your phone rang. even before you see who it was — you knew it's none other than sukuna. your heart screamed at you to answer his phone call, but your mind told you to leave it ringing because you were in no mood to talk to him. yet, at the end — you still pressed the answer button.

"what?"

"where are you?" his rough voice echoed through the line as you walked down the nearly empty street, holding onto your purse, "place's closed."

scoffing, you answered, "'f course it's closed, it's almost ten. i've been waiting for three hours, ryo. three hours."

you could hear him inhale sharply, "i was caught up with something, woman. where are you now?" he questioned. hearing a few car honking behind on the background, "where are you? answer me."

"doesn't matter, i left. and i'm leaving you, i was wrong thinking maybe i could've changed you — turns out, i couldn't. good luck to you," you mutter out sternly.

sukuna raised a brow, "y're kidding."

you weren't, and all he could hear next was the loud dial tune of the other line hanging up — now did he realize that this was all serious and you were actually leaving him for good.

──────〃★ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

you sighed, dialing toji for the first time of the night when he said that he was going to pick you up for a date, the phone rung for a while before going into voicemail. grumbling under your breath, you tried dialing him again for the second time, which ended up the same way.

all these time spent on makeup and picking out the best outfit — all for nothing as your boyfriend, toji failed to show up on time. angry, you tried calling him again for the third time, only for it to end up in voicemail yet again. this time you decided to leave a message for him.

"hey, you forgot. didn't you? hope you're happy with yourself, cause 'm not."

dating toji wasn't the easiest — but you love him, no matter what he was like. and it was stupid of you to do so, all this time you've defended his name against your friends' malice towards him, saying how he wasn't treating you well enough and that you deserved so much better.

despite all that, you love him. disregarding their words, retorting back to how toji treats you well, which he does — except for the times he tended to forget about everything, even you. maybe it was time to open your eyes and actually break up; because you did deserve better than this.

it would be a shame to let all this makeup go to waste, and so you hailed a cab and decided to go out for a treat. and made the best out of everything, that is until toji decided it would be the most convenient time to call you back amidst your little "me time".

wiping your hand on the napkin, you answered him, "huh, you're alive," you muttered out, huffing.

he sighs, "i forgot, sorry." you couldn't see him, but toji actually looked remorseful, already on his way out of his apartment to yours, "i'm on my way."

you chuckled, "doesn't matter. i left my house," you informed, taking a bite out of the crab meat, "so don't bother coming — and i don't think i don't deserve this kind of treatment from anyone, even you, toji. i'm breaking up with you because clearly you don't take this relationship as seriously as i am."

toji furrowed his brows, "i forgot, i fucked up, i can make it up. where are you right now?" he asks, his voice still as calm as cucumber. but the look on his face contradicted the tone of his voice.

"bye, toji. good luck."

© shoyudon 2024 . no copying or reposting allowed !

[nonotnolan]

Jock Cock, Part 2

Check out Part 1 here.

"Excuse me, Professor Jones?" I wasn't expecting to be recognized out in public, but I did live in town, and it wasn't unheard of for a few of my more friendly students to engage in small talk if they happened to see me out grocery shopping or what have you. I'm usually too introverted to develop deep bonds with students, especially over a trivial intro course, but some people just want to be social.

"Please, just Mr. Jones. Or Kevin. I'm a teaching assistant, not a… Jared?" I certainly wasn't expecting a member of the basketball team greeting me out in public. "Do I… I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting to be recognized. I don't think you've ever been enrolled in one of my classes?"

He smiled at me, letting his bags drop to the ground. "Well, we've crossed paths before, I just didn't make much of an impression on you. I don't take it personally, I was a pretty non-descript guy." The thought of Jared ever blending into a crowd was… ridiculous, to say the least. My skepticism must have shown up on my face, because he started laughing at me. "The real me, not Jared. I'm the same guy who swapped with Adam last month."

I could feel the heat radiating from my cheeks as I recalled that night. He dumped three different loads in my ass once he was no longer my student. It was one of the most risky hookups I have ever had, but that made it all the more exciting. Especially since the man inside of Adam's body clearly had experience. Most guys with a fuck stick over seven inches were terrible in bed, but he was diligent about both foreplay and aftercare. Snuggling against a tight chest of rippling muscles, breathing deeply the manly aroma of his musky pits, gazing deeply into his eyes as his fingers ran through my hair… I didn't even realize I was daydreaming until I felt the strain of my cock against my boxer briefs.

"You wanna do it again?" he said, whispering softly. "Jared hired me to take care of Summer School exams for him. I've still got two more days inside of this body, and I'd love to see you again. That razor sharp mind of yours is just… the fucking sexiest thing about you, Kev. I want to be near you, I want to pull you in close and hold you tight." The stranger's hand slid down to his crotch and cupped his junk. "And I want to rail you with this jock cock until you scream."

I started to fidget with my suit jacket. "Jared... Adam... whoever it is that you are... look, it was risky enough when you were in the body of someone who graduated. Jared is... what, a junior? He's barely 21. And he's still a student"

"But he's not your student," countered the stranger. "I looked up the university policy. It only matters if there is a conflict of interest, like student and teacher. And age means nothing as long as the body is legal, which it is. Besides, you're... what, mid 30s? A bit older? That's nothing for hookup culture."

As always, the man had a point. Was he always this confident, or was that a side effect of wearing a jock's skin? "I mean, you're right, I just... I'm not a big fan of hookup culture. I know we had that night when you were Adam, but... I'd much rather go on a date and get to know you first. And I can't help but feel guilty that these athletes don't know you're having sex in their bodies, so that plus the hookup guilt is... it's a bit much for me. I really should say no. It's not personal."

Jared, the man inside of Jared, just smiled at me. "I don't know what sort of operation you think I'm running, but I make them all sign contracts that outline everything I'm allowed to do while I'm inside in their body, sex included. So if you don't want a hookup, I guess I'll just have to hang out a bit before we fuck. Why don't you come back to my place? We can hang out at the pool before we head upstairs."

"Pretty nice apartment complex, right? Jared's parents are loaded." He smiled at me as I glanced around the property. I knew the buildings in this part of town were incredibly expensive, but I didn't realize just how extravagant they were.

My eyes were drawn to the water droplets running down his muscular pecs. "Well, honestly, I assumed it was due to his status as a star athlete," I said, trying to keep my eyes focused on his face.

He shook his head. "Nah, they barely get paid anything, and the regulations around it are pretty bullshit. The scholarships cover the classes, but anything else is a crapshoot. Most of the athletes I hop into, I have them pay me by giving me extra time in their body. I don't think I could ever develop all this," he gestured at his chest for emphasis, "on my own. Being a jock is a lot of hard work and dedication, but borrowing it? Much easier. I love being able to borrow bodies like this, and doing their schoolwork is a breeze. It's a pretty sweet gig for someone like me."

"It sounds like you're being a bit hard on yourself, Mr...?"

The man in Jared's body shrugged. "Call me Mike, if you want. Or you can call me Fuck. That's what you'll be screaming later, when I'm balls deep in that ass of yours." It was one of the dumbest lines I'd heard, but the delivery was aided by the absolute stud who said it. "Come on, let's head upstairs. If you want a date, we can have coffee between rounds."

"You are going to be the death of me," I said, panting for breath. I could feel the sweat dripping down my thighs-- among other fluids, given that I'd already taken two loads from Mike's current body. I was falling for him, hard. "Okay, I have to be awkward. You clearly have a crush on me if you're trying to find me when you're in these hot bodies. But if you're not going to let me return the favor… where do you see this going?"

He just started laughing. "Why does it have to go anywhere? We're just two gay guys enjoying a series of casual hookups. It happens all the time."

I rolled off of the mattress and walked over to where I had tossed off most of my clothes. "Because I want it to go somewhere, Jar-- Mike. I don't want to have a series of casual hookups. I know a lot of guys are fine with that sort of culture, but… I'm not. I need more than this."

"Whoa, hey…" He came up behind me and pulled me close, and I could feel the warmth of his body. "Kevin. My guy. You don't even know what I look like. Are you in love with me, the idea of me, or the jock cock that I can provide to you?" He started grinding his growing erection against my bare ass for emphasis-- God, of course Jared's body was already prepared for round three. "I promise you, a relationship will never live up to your dreams. Don't ruin a good thing by trying to get even more. Just sit back and enjoy the dick, for as long as I can supply it."

I brushed his arm off my shoulder and stepped further away. "I can't… Mike, I'm not going to settle for 'good enough' in matters of love. And if that means ruining a good thing to chase what I want… what I need? That's what I'm going to do." I kept waiting for him to say something as I started getting dressed, but he just stared at me with his arms crossed.

He followed me out of the apartment, though he remained silent as he walked behind me. I guess he thought I would realize that his dick was too good to leave, and he had been right all along? I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. We were both too stubborn to admit defeat.

"I'll… see you around in some other college stud, I guess."

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Details.

For @the-californicationist's “Cali’s Nameless Challenge” writing challenge!

(Remember to leave your guess of who this is about in the comments!)

[ Challenge Masterlist ]

words: 560 (pushed it a little SORRY). cw: MDNI!, smut(tish), piv, terms of endearment (including daddy), you/your pronouns, afab!reader

You've heard the recruits talking. They always do when they don't think anyone's listening. They're very judgmental, these kids. Makes you wanna go particularly hard on them during training when you remember the way they gossip.

They're always always talking about others, like school children, disrespecting their commanding officers, talking about their hair (head, facial and otherwise), their habits (smoking, drinking), their personal lives (or what they expect them to be), and, of course, their body types.

Their most recent victim, or, at least, the one you've heard referred to most often, is one you didn't expect. They know better than to mention someone like that, or, at least, you hoped they did.

Sure, he's not very intimidating looking, average height, average weight. His voice doesn't ring out through the halls whenever he's pissed and reaming out some recruit or soldier that serves beneath him.

But that should be more of a reason for them to fear him, not a reason for them to speak about him.

They lack the life/career experience to realize that bigger/louder doesn't always equal scarier.

Soldiers like you, like him, don't get where you are, at your age, without being a scary motherfucker, ready to shoot someone right between their eyes, only to then turn around and go have lunch as if nothing's happened. Especially not here.

But maybe you're biased.

After all, you notice the details about him.

The way his voice coos gently, softly, politely, full of understanding and care whenever he speaks to the soldiers around him.

The way his hands are calloused and rough, long fingers with cracked skin around the fingertips and knuckles.

The way his arms, ever hairy, despite rarely on display, cross over his chest when he's paying his full attention to people speaking to or around him.

The way his thick brows scrunch judgmentally when he hears someone say something stupid.

The way he leans back on window sills and balcony railings to light his cigarettes.

The way he looks at you, those big brown eyes all soft and fond, too gentle for a man that regularly trades shots with criminals.

The way he smiles and half-smirks, especially when you press your nose to his cheek, and pepper his moles with kisses.

The way his eyes, weighed down by deep eye bags, flutter over you whenever you lower yourself onto his leaky cock, your ass bouncing off his thighs with fervor.

The way he purrs words of praise in your ear while he fucks you from behind, his hands pushing down on your lower back, his body curled over yours to whisper in your ear.

The way he calls your name, first, middle, last, your rank too.

The way he uses terms of endearment.

"That's it, princess."

"Doing so well for me, baby girl."

"That feels good, doesn't it, pretty girl."

"Don't be too loud, can't let people hear how good I'm making you feel, heart."

"Just like that, moan for daddy, cutie."

What do those stupid fucking kids know? Nothing.

If only they could see him the way you do. But they can't. He doesn't want anyone to know the way he looks under his uniform.

All the better too... Easier to surprise people by how much of a punch he packs with a single haymaker.

Not to mention, you're not keen on sharing.

[parkert01]

Protective - Aaron Hotchner

You and Aaron had been secretly dating for months. You had already met Jack and Jess, they really liked you and thought you were the perfect person for Aaron. You spent a lot of time with them both and you loved them both dearly, almost as much as you loved Aaron. You and Aaron agreed to keep the relationship a secret for now becuase of the dangers of your jobs. You both knew that if people knew you were together, it would put you both in danger.

The team was currently in Florida helping the local PD catch a serial killer, you were polite and courteous to all the officers, except one seemed to think that meant you were intrested in him. He always flirted with you, let his hands linger on you for longer than approprotae, squeezing in your shoulders as he walked past you. You meantioned this to Aaron and he promised to keep an eye on him. 

Currently you were all sat around in a conference room talking about the case, you chair extremely close to Aaron's, you knees were touching and his hand was on your thigh. The officer slowly kept moving his chair closer to you and kept staring at you, this made you very uncomfortable. You whispered this to Hotch and he switched seats with you to put a barrier in between you and the officer. 

You were gathering your documents and didnt notice the officer standing behind you, until he cleared his throat to get your attention. You turned around and politely smiled. You could see Aaron in the doorway watching you carefully to make sure you were safe. You tried to walk around to officer but he stopped you "not too fast" he said while chuckling. "How about me and you go out sometime". You replied saying "No, I have a partner". You walked past him and to Aaron. Aaron guided you out of the room. 

At this point Aaron was just getting annoyed at the officer, despite you telling him you werent intrested, he carried on trying to persue you. Aaron wasnt jealous, he trusted you and knew you would never hurt him, he was just annoyed that he wouldn't leave you alone. 

You were leant over speaking to Spencer, when you felt someone smack your butt. You knew it wasn't Aaron because he wouldnt do that in public. You quickly spun around and smacked the officer, that caused everyone to look in your directon. Aaron came storming over, you could see the anger in his eyes. He grabbed the officer by his collar and slammed him against the wall. "Leave her alone! I want you off this case. I will be speaking to your commander" Aaron screams at the guy. He then drags him out of the room and the building. When he got back he rushed over to you and pulled you in to a hug, while you sobbed in to his chest. 

He let you cry in to his chest, not caring if his shirt will be ruined. He his arms were wrapped around your shoulders, whilst yours were wrapped around his waist. When you pulled away and looked up at him, he smiled softly at you. 

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything or do anything sooner" he whispered in to your hair.

"It's okay. It's not your fault" you said. 

You looked at him and he leant down softly kissing you. When you both pulled away, you glanced around the room and saw all your team smiling.  Aaron kissed you again and said "I'll be back. I'll speak to his boss" and walked away in the director of the chief's office.

The team rushed up to you asking lots of questions about your relationship. You answered them with a big smile on your face. You were happy and in love with the man you wanted to be with forever. 

[mybworlds]

CHAPTER 12

status: ongoing

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…

Masterlist

Before to start. . . Please take your time to read 'cause it's quite lenghty. 📖

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner and thanks @saradika-graphics for the divider.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed

The weekend - end with Joel unfortunately came to an end. The enchantment is over and everything is back exactly as it was. Or almost, Joel, the night before the two of you went back to your lives, gave you a small set of keys.

"If you want to come here and write, you can. With or without me. There's an important part of you here and it's right that, when you want to, you come. Feel free to do." he told you "If you want to run away and seek refuge, you can do it here."

You are in your room lying on your bed with the small wooden guitar he carved for you a long ago clutched in one hand and the keys to his house in the other. You clutch them tightly to your heart as if to feel Joel close to you. You miss him already.

This makes you realize one thing: there's no longer a place for Jack in your life or in your heart. You want to be with Joel. You want him to be a part of you, you want everyone to know that you don't care that he's older than you, but that you love him. Yes, you love him.

You can't do without him.

Your phone rings.

It's Jack.

"I haven't heard from you once." he says.

"Well, you too." you reply in an icy tone.

"Would you like to talk about what happened a few nights ago?" he asks you.

The truth is that you don't care. You don't want someone like him next to you, someone who makes you feel bad, who doesn't support you, who doesn't understand you. No, thank you.

"There's nothing to say," you reply in the same tone.

"So … are we okay?" he asks.

"No, maybe I wasn't clear. Jack. . . I'm sorry, but I don't want a person who doesn't support me, who doesn't understand what's important to me," you answer.

For a moment you feel like the phone line has gone dead, then he resumes "So, we don't want to see each other again?"

"No." you reply flatly "Bye Jack, have a nice life." you add and then cut off the call.

Your heart beats fast in your chest. You feel as if freed from a burden.

Maybe you were too hard on Jack, but you don’t want continue leading him on, it’s not fair. You don't love him. You never had.

Now you can be with Joel.

But how can you see him if he is no longer in town now?

Simple, you look for something that might convince your mother to let you leave for a few days. You look for an idea, anything to get away, but at the moment you can't think of anything.

You fall asleep looking for an idea.

Your life flows quietly, you go to work at the bar, when you come back you practice your chords, you very rarely go to church with your mother hoping to get some ideas on how you can reach Joel. The man who teaches these classes sees you and approaches you with a big smile. He's a great speaker, has great language property, and you are not surprised that your mother is fascinated by him, but you fear that he is yet another foothold your mother is looking for in the course of her life. The man, a fellow named Mark, will be a few years older than your mother, tells you that he's glad you are there with them, that you too therefore are seeking the salvation of your soul and that only through prayer can this happen.

You lower your head, you don't want to burst out laughing in his face, you don't believe in this, you never had and you won't start now. Everything you hear only increase this your total belief. You are not like your mother who believes whatever she is told. No.

"Boo," your mother says, "have you seen how interesting these classes are?"

Of course.

"Yes, you right. You know, I've been thinking about going deeper," you begin. Your mother's eyes sparkle, she thinks she convinced you and converted you to all this. Not at all.

"You could go for a prayer retreat with Mark and his group." she offers enthusiastically "If I could, I would go too, but I have to work."

You take advantage of it.

"Mom, actually I'd like to go with my friend Kristen and her prayer group, you know, she's also attending. Her group is in the small town near ours, I know they are leaving next week for a prayer retreat, maybe I can go with her so I would have her company."

Kristen is the friend your mother always liked the most, she always saw her as a proper young person, judicious, polite, charitable, in short a perfect friend and girl.

"Fine. But you'll have to let me know then what you think, though, and then next time you and I will go with Mark's group."

Now you just need to let Kristen know.

"We'll talk." you say with a small smile "Would you like a pizza? Shall we eat it at the diner?"

"All right." she replies, taking you under her arm.

The evening unfolds as quietly as possible, you don't talk much, you just make a few sporadic comments about the pizza, the place, the meeting you attended, but nothing more.

Fortunately Joel calls when you returned by now and your mother is in bed. You check to see if you can talk freely and realize that she is soundly asleep. Joel tells you about his day, but more than anything he asks if you have been to his house, he wants to know if you are writing, if you are doing everything to pursue your dream, but you tell him you are going tomorrow.

"I miss you," you tell him, "I wish you were here," you add.

"I can't move, honey." he tells you in a regretful tone "We may not see each other not earlier than three weeks, it's gonna be complicated days for me."

"For me too, Miller. I'll. . ." you stop, you were about to tell him I love you, but then you reconsider, you don't know if your feeling is mutual, and what if he replies he doesn't feel the same way for you? You don't think you can stand such a response from him.

"You, what?" he encourages you, you swallow, afraid, you close your eyes "Baby, are you there?"

"Yes." you answer "I'm very tired, sorry. . ."

"No, no, 's okay. Go to sleep, I wish you good night, baby. A kiss, I hope whatever you dream will come true sooner or later." he says before to hang up the phone.

You will surely dream about him, his dark eyes, his plushy lips smiling at you and kissing you softly, his messy hair falling on his forehead, his arms caging the sides of your face, you dream about him with one hand cupping your face and with the other moving a strand of your hair and smiling at you. You see him on top of you whispering sweet, reassuring words in that sweet, warm voice of his, your hands in his hair as you press yourself against him. His hand along your bare chest, his large hand caressing your breasts, thumb and forefinger teasing first one nipple and then the other. Your breath breaks. His bulge pushing against your inner thigh, your breaths getting shorter and shorter, you almost feel him stroking you with a finger first to taste your intimacy then slowly sinking inside you, inch by inch. You gasp. It feels so good, the rhythm he's giving with his finger that breaks your breath, he then strokes you rhythmically with two fingers, filling you all the way, you swallow squeezing your eyes shut and clutching your sheets in a fist. You mumble his name, bite your lower lip. You feel the blood boil in your veins as he continues to pump in a relentless rhythm inside you, then your mouth opens wide in a dull moan, your lips trembling.

You open your eyes, he's not here, but your imagination brought you into his arms to come violently.

Being in his house without him causes you a strange grip, you feel like you are in a beautiful soulless place. You feel empty, you just look around as if you almost feel a presence around you. You feel ridiculous thinking about this. After all, it's not the first time you've come here, of course it's the first time you're alone here, but you've been with him so many times. There's nothing to be afraid of.

"You recognize this place?" you ask Joel, sending him a message with a photograph of you sitting on his couch.

You turn on the computer he gave you and write, write, write. The words come out spontaneously, effortlessly, when you lift your head from the computer you realize it is almost evening. You stretch, turn off the pc, drink a glass of water, go to the bathroom and then leave.

Joel hasn't answered you, that's not like him, who knows maybe he's just really busy, you tell yourself.

As you're on your way home, you contact Kristen, you absolutely must warn her of your idea: you explain your plan and she tells you that she also has to actually go to a prayer meeting and she has to go to the very town where Joel is working. You explain that you are going to pretend to join them, but that you are actually going to Joel, you want to see him.

You check your phone, but Joel has not answered or displayed yet. You decide to call him, but his phone just rings. That's weird. You text him, but nothing, he doesn't answer or call you. You think about many things, then you decide that since he doesn't answer you, you need to leave, you need to see him now more than ever.

Convincing your mother was as easy as a glass of water, she wanted to talk to Kristen of course who confirmed your prayer meetings, provided many details of arrival and departure, and you, to reassure your mother, promised to call her as soon as you arrived, in the afternoon and evening. You prepare your small luggage and, since your mother won't let you drive, you leave with Kristen. The only problem is that Joel doesn't know you are coming and you don't know where to look for him.

Someone says that doing surprises is never a good thing because you inevitably get surprises, you try to chase that thought away, you don't want to believe that you are the one getting the surprise. You check your phone, Joel hasn't been in touch or answered your texts for almost twenty-four hours, and on the one hand it agitates you, but on the other it leads you to think that maybe he's just really busy.

While you're thinking that you've been foolish in leaving like that without informing him of your arrival, you remember the name of the company he works at and so your field of inquiry narrows; you're not alone, luckily you're accompanied by Kristen and a friend of hers, a guy named Xavier, a tall, muscular, blue-eyed, black-haired handsome guy. You think he's there with you because he cares about your friend, but this is your own thought, you may be wrong.

The places you see are one shabbier than the next, fortunately Xavier is with the two of you. When you arrive at another construction site, you realize you're in the right place, you ask for Joel and at that moment you are approached by a chick all dirty with a chipped protective helmet, she says your name, you turn around "D' you know me?" you ask her puzzled.

"It's like I know you, Joel talks about you all the time. You're here for him, aren't you?" her expression tense, focused "Come with me." she tells you, turning her back to the three of you.

"Uhm, can you wait for me? I'll let you know right away," you tell them.

When you turn around, you see the woman waiting for you with her hands in her uniform pockets, then noticing that you are joining her, she continues. She urges you to be careful several times, climbing flights of semi-dangerous stairs, when you almost reach the top, your heart in your throat with fear, but the idea of seeing him urges you on.

"Don't be frightened, dunno how much he's told you," she says as if you know what she's talking about "It's less worse than it looks." she stops on the landing "He's over there, he fell pretty bad, but other than a few cuts and bruises, he's okay."

You furrow your brow, the woman talks about it almost as if she said he scraped his knee, as if it were obvious. Well, maybe it is, but not to you.

"Didn't he tell you, did he?" she asks noticing your worried expression "You stubborn fool." she says in a sigh "Come." she adds giving you a little pat on your arm.

You follow her worriedly to a semi-closed door, "Wait." she tells you, then enters.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, that's why he didn't write or call you, but when did this happen? Yesterday? Last night? This morning? It doesn't matter when, but how he is, you hope with all your heart that nothing serious happened to him and that it's just a few scratches like the ones you've also seen before.

The door opens, the woman's eyes are downcast as she comes out, then she raises them to you, "He's in a bad mood, but I think with you he's…well, we gave him a painkiller." she tells you as she walks past you.

"But how did that happen?" you ask stopping her.

"That stubborn fellow last night at five o'clock had to knock off, but he wanted to finish a job upstairs at all costs, so he stayed with four other unconscious men like him until eight o'clock. By that time it's dark up here, very dark in spite of the lights, he slipped along with some equipment on the ramp leading upstairs." you pale "The cuts are mostly superficial, except for one on his side. A couple of friends working in the ER stitched him up."

"He needs to be taken to the hospital," you say seriously concerned.

She smiles bitterly and shakes her head "Since that episode happened to his daughter, Miller hasn't set foot in a hospital." the woman looks at you as if she has let a secret slip.

"What happened to his daughter?" you ask her hoping she will talk, but she shakes her head and replies "I can't be the one to tell you about it, he has to. If you're as important to him as it seems. . . well, he'll talk to you about it sooner or later." you lower your gaze "Now go to him."

You swallow, then turn away from the woman and enter, the room is semi-dark and cold, there are dozens of cabinets along two walls and then at the back a window through which only faint glimpses of light enter and a worn sofa on which Joel is lying. You leave your bag at the doorway dropping it and hurry next to him from the side, his face is swollen, you can clearly make out a cut at the level of his left cheekbone and lower lip, his arms are covered with large bloodstained bandages and his work uniform is half-open revealing a gauze on his side below which you imagine are the stitches the woman told you about.

You very gently caress the contour of his face, his face twitching in a small grimace perhaps from pain perhaps from discomfort you don't know, he opens his eyes and when he sees you he hints a pale smile "Is it the painkillers or are you really here?"

"Joel. . ." you tell him in a whisper moving closer to his face "I'm here."

"My beautiful. . . wonderful. . . writer" he mumbles raising an arm toward your face, when his hand brushes your face and then moves your hair you have chills, you place your hand on his, you feel it warm and ruined under your fingers "'m fine." he adds "Don't be impressed, I've been worse."

"Is that why you don't want me to see you naked?" you ask smiling and causing him to smile back.

"Guessed." he replies closing his eyes, for a while you don't speak again, you think he has fallen asleep, but then he says, "I missed feeling your breath against my skin."

"I missed you." you confess, squeezing his hand a little tighter and placing a kiss on the back of his hand "If something happened to you. . ." the words choke in your throat.

"'m right here, honey. 'm not going anywhere." he tells you reassuringly and stroking your cheek with his fingertips in a slow and extremely gentle gesture.

You place your head suddenly between arm and shoulder and he barely jerks, "Sorry!" you exclaim, but he holds you down "No, 's okay, just take it easy. Come on." he tells you moving a little further into the couch. You remain lying on that small and uncomfortable couch, you don't dare to move for fear of hurting him, he's the one looking for your hand, which he occasionally squeezes, but without making a sound. You wonder if he squeezes it to reassure you or because he feels pain.

It's your cell phone vibrating, interrupting that almost perfect silence, Kristen. You completely forgot about her! You reassure her that everything is fine and that you are with Joel; then, she reminds you to call your mother and tells you she is leaving.

Joel just turns his face toward yours, "You here alone?"

"No," you answer, shaking your head, "I'm with Kristen. She was waiting for me downstairs, you know, afraid that it wasn't the right construction site or that you weren't here," you explain to him.

"If you want to go with your friend, go. I think I'll stay a little longer like this and then go home. Join me later if you want." he tells you in a slightly dizzy voice.

"No." you tell him, "I came for you. If you want me, I'll stay with you," you tell him, looking at him.

He opens and closes his eyes, pulls you gently toward him making your head rest in the crook of his neck, "I want you all the time." he tells you "You know, I've been thinking about you all the time lately. There's not a moment in my day when my thoughts don't go to you." you lift your face slightly toward him "I have three words on the tip of my tongue, but dunno if it's fair to tell you." he adds before breathing deeply.

Your heart pounding in your chest, you close your eyes and inhale his scent.

"I have them too, from the bottom of my heart," you whisper, holding you to him and closing your eyes.

When Joel feels better, the two of you with Tess drive him home. You've reclined the passenger seat to make him lie down or almost lie down, you're sitting in the middle in the back seat. Tess doesn't talk much, she just casts brief glances at you from the rearview mirror and occasionally glances toward Joel who, however, does not look at you or at her.

The little house Joel rented here is much smaller than the one he has in town. In fact, it has a kitchenette, a bedroom and a bathroom. You help him shed his overalls, although he initially rebelled at being treated like he's ill, but you insisted. You sit him down on the worn-out couch in the kitchen and there for the first time you see his completely naked torso and it's huge, but what strikes you most besides his mighty are the many old and new cuts and scars that decorate his arms, his shoulder blades, his back. You are tempted to caress them all, but not now. You try to wash him as best you can without getting too close to the area where the stitches are. Your eyes constantly cross, when he sees you uncertain he reassures you with a look or a nod.

Once finished, you help him put on a clean T-shirt and invite him to stay there while you prepare a plate of pasta with some tomato sauce, again he rebels initially, but in the face of your firm tone he can only surrender. You hand him the plate by sitting next to him, eating in silence. From time to time he lays his head back against the backrest and closes his eyes holding his breath, "Does it hurt?" he shakes his head, but the expression on his face says otherwise "What can I do?" you ask him.

He turns to you, "You're here." he tells you causing you to miss a beat and smile. You enjoy each other's company, he would like to lean toward you and kiss you, but the stitches are pulling and he must not strain. You accompany him to bed, where he wears only a T-shirt and a pair of dark boxers. You swallow, if he wasn't like this. . .

You stop that thought from your mind, "Come." he says, inviting you to join him. You are wearing a shirt from a few years ago now ruined and three sizes larger, it's so big that it almost reaches your knee. You wear only that one to sleep in and briefs.

You lie down next to him, he's on his back, you can see him in the semi-darkness of the room, "Who was that woman at the construction site?" you ask, turning to him and gently laying a hand on his chest.

"Tess, a pain in the ass, but she's the only friend I have. The only one who has known me for years. She's a tough cookie."

"I saw. She seems cool," you say.

He nods, then turns to you, "Did you go to my place to write?"

"Once. I wrote. A lot. But without you, it's not the same." you say making squiggles on his chest with your index finger "I would have wanted you around, maybe hugging me and taking a look at what I was writing." you confide, he turns back to you "Next time.'' he tells you, giving you a kiss on your lips.

He takes your hand that was lying on his chest and squeezes it tightly intertwining his fingers with yours, he then runs his fingers down to your forearm and then looking you in the eyes he says "Come." you look at him puzzled "Come on me, I want to kiss you properly." he adds.

Your heart is pounding, you don't know how or, rather, you have a vague idea, but you don't know if it's right. He holds your hand as he guides you by making you lie completely on him. You feel even smaller in this position on him.

"If you have pain or discomfort, tell me," you tell him referring to the stitches, he shakes his head softly and then pulls you closer to him.

You are face to face, Joel barely leans toward you and captures your lips in a kiss that takes your breath away. You think back to how sick you were without him, you think back to the fear you had when you learned he was hurt, as Joel slips a hand through your hair crushing you even more against him.

I love you, you'd like to say, you'd like to let him know, as you too plunge your hands into his hair and your breaths grow shorter and shorter and merge into each other.

His arms held you close to him all night, you did nothing but exchange long caresses, glances and kisses. And that was enough for you. You wake up with your head on his chest, your hair partly on his chest and partly on your shoulders, you raise your head slowly and look at Joel's face. His lips parted, his hair tousled - and it's partly your fault too - a serene expression on his face, his wrinkles barely noticeable. The grazes and bruises clash so much with his handsome face.

You gently stroke his forehead to check that he doesn't have a fever or any other problems; thankfully, everything is fine. He's breathing normally and doing well. You check that the stitches are still intact, once you are satisfied that all is well, you caress his face, his features, you feel under your fingers his unshaven beard, caress in a gesture entirely new to you his neck, his Adam's apple. You see him wrinkle his nose and furrow his brow, then slowly open his eyes finding your eyes at once, you smile at him and he smiles back.

"G' morning." you say smily.

"'Morning." he says with his voice still slurred from sleep "How long have you been awake?"

"A little while." you reply, giving him a kiss on his sternum.

"And what were ya doing?" he asks looking at you with his dark brown eyes.

"I was watching you. Sorry. . . maybe that's creepy for you. . ." you are about to say, but he smiles so you stop.

"Remember when we slept together at my house?" you nod "I watched you sleep, too. You were like a magnet, I couldn't stop doing it." he continues cupping your cheek, you close your eyes for a moment surrendering to his touch and feeling your heart beating fast "You were. . . you're beautiful." he says gently stroking your lower lip with his thumb.

"I wish. . ." you are about to say something you never thought you would have the courage to say out loud considering your lack of knowledge on the subject, in fact to tell the truth you thought you would only ever write it down in your stories and instead. . .

"Would you like to?" he urges you, stroking your hair.

"I would like to. . ." you bite your lower lip softly "I'd like to make love with you." you say all in one breath, now you would like to hide from his huge dark eyes that seem to want to read you inside, you see him swallow and then he caresses the contour of your face with a finger "Sorry, maybe. . . uhm. . . you don't want to, you don't. . ." you don't know how to continue.

"Who told you I don't want to?" he tells you wrinkling his forehead.

You look at him incredulously almost, blinking several times unable to comment on his answer.

"I just don't think you're ready yet."

"I am." you reply, trying to sound firm and tame that unfamiliar fire inside you.

"We should wait a little longer. I don't want you to have even more pain than necessary." he says moving a strand of hair behind your ear "Y' know it's going to hurt the first time, right?" you nod "I don't want you to feel even more pain because I didn't prepare you properly." he adds.

You lower your gaze for a second, "By prepare well. . . what exactly do you mean?" you ask, showing him once again your inexperience.

"When I feel better, we'll talk about it," he replies.

Interrupting that almost awkward moment there's your phone vibrating.

MOM, it appears on the screen.

Shit, you totally forgot.

"Hello?" you say snapping to your phone answering immediately.

"Weren't you supposed to call me as soon as you got here, were you?" she scolds you.

"Sorry, you're right, while we got the room and then settled in, the meetings. . . sorry." you look toward Joel who scrutinizes you with an indecipherable look.

"Is Kristen with you?" she asks.

"She went downstairs, we have a meeting soon and she went to get croissants before to start, I just got out of the shower."

"All right. So, I won't keep you, have a good day. Call me tonight."

"Alright, bye." you say interrupting the call and placing your cell phone on the bedside table.

You sigh and then turn your gaze to Joel, who stares thoughtfully at the ceiling, you stroke his arm and he looks back at you "You had to tell more lies." it's not a question, it's a statement, and his tone of voice is very, very bitter.

"I didn't tell her about-"

"Us?" he asks you "She asked about you and John though!" he retorts, returning to staring at the ceiling with a disappointed, regretful air "Right?" he adds, turning back to you.

"I only told her about Jack because it would have been more acceptable to her," you tell him, but then you regret what you said because you told him that he's no good.

He looks at you, his expression is full of pain "Got it," he only says, but you don't think he understood what you really wanted to say "Can you help me up?" he says, you want to tell him no, but his tone doesn't admit any other answer but yes.

You get up from the bed and go to his side, put your hands on his shoulder blades as he, too, clutches your forearms to give himself that push he needs to sit up; you feel against your hair his warm breath get short, "How's it going sitting up?" you ask him.

"Fine." he answers you, but his tone is icy; he's angry about what you said.

You kneel down in front of him, "Joel," you say laying a hand on his knee, "I'm sorry if you misunderstood, but I didn't mean that you're not good enough. I didn't mean that, sorry if I misspoke. You are everything to me. I've had a lot of firsts with you, you're the only one I trust completely, I've never slept with anyone, I've never allowed anyone to touch me, I've never allowed anyone to get into my heart." you tell him looking straight into his eyes hoping this time not to be misunderstood.

He says nothing, looking down at you with his huge dark eyes, his breath short from the exertion he has just made, "If I should get too much," he says, but you shush him by stepping even closer and telling him, "I don't want to hear it, it won't happen."

"If it should," he resumes, "I want you to tell me and I won't see you again, I won't look for you, I won't put you in a position to lie to be with me, but to be with that other guy. . ."

"Joel," you interrupt him again, "I broke up with Jack. I don't want to be with him, I don't want him. There's only you." you tell him, feeling his breath stop for a moment as well.

"I can't be mad at you," he admits, stroking your lower lip again with a finger "Come," he says making you sit on his lap, "The truth is you drive me crazy." he tells you slipping a hand through your hair making your face come closer to his "I wish you were happy away from me, but I don't want you to go away. I'm so selfish. . ."

You kiss him fleetingly on the lips, "I don't want to be away from you. Got it?" you ask him sinking your hands into his curls, resting your forehead against his causing your breaths to mingle, "Please don't doubt how you feel about me," you tell him, "Because I have no doubt."

He captures your lips in a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing madly and your breaths growing shorter and shorter. He pushes you toward him, slipping his large, warm hands under your T-shirt and sitting you on his intimacy only covered by his boxers.

You never want to break this kiss, but you both need to catch your breath.

He caresses your arms, then looks long into your eyes as if to ask your permission, you nod giving him your silent consent, and he slips his hands under your T-shirt lifting it up and slipping it off with your help. You remain with your torso completely naked on him, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but it feels so erotic, so beautiful, more beautiful than you ever thought.

You thought that feeling his gaze on your chest, on you, would make you strongly uncomfortable, you thought you would even freeze, and instead in a rush, which you didn't think you had, you bring his hands to your bare breasts. You both groan at that contact, "Can I kiss it?" he asks you without breaking eye contact, "Yes." you reply in a trembling voice.

Feeling his lips on your nipple makes you gasp and at the same time close your eyes, you let yourself go completely to his caresses. Feeling his unshaven beard there, his hot breath, his tongue licking you gently and his lips sucking gently your breast, lead you to moan and gently bite your lower lip. You press his head against your chest, perhaps hurting him, but it is a sensation that sends you completely out of the ordinary.

"I'd stay kissing your breast for hours, 's perfect. You are perfect." he tells you, moving from one breast to the other with a little pop.

"J - Joel… please…" you find yourself pleading without even knowing exactly what the next step to take is, your vision blurs, you press yourself harder against him making your intimacies cling together as well, he gasps "Touch me." you say, he pulls his face away from your chest and you, in a bold move, get up from him slipping off your briefs and sit back down on him, on his now clearly evident prominence.

"You drive me crazy." he tells you taking a long moment to observe you, you are completely naked on top of him while he's still wearing his now bulky T-shirt and boxers.

"Take me." you tell him, bringing his hands to your hips.

He smiles as if you have said something particularly funny, "What?" you ask him blinking.

"What have you done with the sweet version of you?" he asks you barely clasping his hands on your hips, you smile at him giving him a kiss first on his lips and then moving down his neck, feeling him hold his breath.

"I'm still the same." you answer him between kisses "Sweet and insecure, but other times I know what I want and you know thanks to who?" you add going up to his chin giving him a very light bite "Thanks to you." you resume looking into his eyes.

"If I could move freely…" he tells you as a small grimace appears on his face, causing him to furrow his brow.

"What would you do?" you ask, looking at him with eyes full of curiosity and lust.

He swallows, moves a strand of your hair and then with his hands descends back down to your intimacy, wraps it completely in his hand and caresses your outer lips with a finger. You hold your breath tightening your grip on his shoulders, you look into his eyes as if seeking safety, he kisses the tip of your nose as he continues that exhausting caress. Your intimacy throbs, you feel yourself on fire as he continues those movements with a slow cadence making you want to be filled completely by his big finger.

"Joel…" you moan, pressing even harder against his chest eager for more clutch.

Finally, oh finally, his finger sinks inside you, inch by inch, it's a sensation that makes you hold your breath, but you deeply desired, he stays still for a while then slowly begins to pump in and out, the rhythm makes you moan and close your eyes. After a while he stops and you, with blurred vision, look at him puzzled, "Now I will insert another finger, if you have pain tell me and I will stop."

A second finger? It will never go in, or will it?

He must have noticed the bewilderment on your face because he reassures you, "Don't worry, I'll go very slowly. I won't do anything that will hurt you, okay?" you nod, "You tell me if you want me to stop, though," he reiterates.

A second finger enters you very, very slowly, sinking even more slowly than the first in your throbbing cunt. You feel your walls almost give way to his passage, you groan and close your eyes, it feels. . . strange, but so. . . you are at a loss for words. It's even better than you could have thought!

With the palm of his hand he rubs your clit sending more discharges of pure lust all along your body, you moan shamelessly rubbing yourself against him, "Joel. . . oh. . ." you can't speak, he lays his other hand at the base of your back stroking you with slow gestures, "I'm going to. . . I'm going to. . ."

"'s okay, just let go." his words are enough, his fingers continuing to move in and out of you at an ever-increasing pace, his hand caressing you is enough to make you close your eyes and let out a long resounding moan.

You let go, abandoning your head on his shoulder as he continues to pump gently still in and out of you, then he pulls his fingers away from you and you feel his hands encircling you and moving closer to your torso and then placing a kiss between your shoulder and your neck, "'s okay." he says then giving you another kiss on your neck and moving your hair causing you to shiver.

When you open your eyes again, you notice how visibly aroused he is, how his arousal is. . . big, very big, you have chills. You want to make love with him, but he will never fit that inside you.

He lays a kiss on your forehead, then you look up and meet his eyes, "We were fighting. . . and then. . ." he says with a smile, a smile you return, "then you realized the reason was futile." you complete. He nods, "You are. . ." he sighs noisily "so important to me, to my life, to my heart." he admits, caressing your face and scrutinizing you for a long time. You press yourself against him wrapping your arms around his neck, he groans. You sat on him completely, you also jerk and lower your gaze, "No." he says almost interpreting your look.

"Why don't you want me to touch you like you do with me?" you ask him intentionally settling better on him causing him to close his eyes and part his lips.

"I think you've already had another first for today. Let's take it slow." he says, "We'll do that too, honey, I promise." he says stroking your bare back in a slow motion that makes you close your eyes.

"I'd like to make you feel as good as you did me," you tell him looking into his eyes, "I don't want to touch you if you don't want to, but now it's your turn. You can't just worry about me, tell me what to do."

"It's… not…" he's about to complain, but you move a little awkwardly on his shaft and he finds himself swallowing, "it's. . . not necessary. . ."

"Joel!" you call back to him, "Really, tell me what to do." you add, this time intentionally touching his intimacy with yours.

"Fuck. . ." he groans closing his eyes, sighing noisily. He places his hands on your hips and moves you back and forth on his bulge, you both moan at that clutch, "Oh, fuck," he groans again gasping as you place your hands on his shoulders continuing to rub against him, "That's so. . . oh, baby, I. . ." his expression is tense, the vein on his neck clearly visible.

"Joel. . . don't stop." you moan as you move closer to him and give him kisses along the vein on his neck, you feel him gasp, move you on him a few more times and then he lets out a long resounding moan that deliciously fills your ears and leads you to encircle his neck with your arms as you too feel you have experienced a second orgasm just in rubbing against his manhood.

You stay like that against each other for a while longer, then you shift and slip on your briefs again, feel his burning gaze follow you, look up and meet his eyes, slip your T-shirt back on and put on a pair of shorts trying to ignore that almost clutching feeling at the pit of your stomach.

"You hungry?" you ask him.

He nods.

"Pancakes? Or ham and eggs?" you offer him.

"Coffee." he replies with a relaxed expression painted on his face.

"You can't have breakfast with just coffee, you know what happens? You get annoying." you look at him with an amused look making him visibly relax "Do you want to wash up first? Shall I give you a hand?"

He looks at you amused, "Nice try."

You blush, "I'm serious. . . I didn't mean anything."

"Then why are ya all flushed?" he asks relaxing completely.

"Because … I'm not used to these allusions, I always hated 'em. Gina, my friend, makes constant allusions to sex, and it always makes me uncomfortable." you confide to him.

"Why?" he asks cocking his head to one side with a small grimace twitching his face.

You sit down next to him, "I always saw sex as something awkward, strange. . . maybe because I didn't know my body, maybe because I never shared a truly intimate moment with another person, and maybe because I looked at sex as something deeply intimate and not to be talked about like that." you confide again "Do you think I'm strange?" you ask turning to him.

"Not at all. I'm a lucky old man." he says "Not everyone approaches sex immediately."

You nod, "Well, would you rather wash first - no innuendo - and then eat?"

"Okay, will you help me?" he asks looking to his side.

"Does it hurt?" you ask as you stand up and help him to his feet.

"A little, I think the painkillers wore off by now," he replies.

"Lean on me," you tell him, encircling his waist with your arm; he smiles at you, "Don't worry."

You help him get to the bathroom, then take off his T-shirt revealing himself in his might, he reveals to you once again his broad torso full of old and new scars and you again stand almost open-mouthed, you are very attracted to that strip of dark hair disappearing into his boxers. You look away feeling yourself flaming again.

"May I ask how you fell and what you were doing in the dark?" you ask as you wash his shoulders paying attention to the recent cuts and bruises present.

"Tess…" he replies with a sigh, shaking his head "she never shuts up." shortly after he adds "I heard that if we didn't complete the work on at least the upstairs by the beginning of next week, we won't going to get paid and I want to get paid because I busted my back on that fucking construction site!" he blurts out "And instead I put my foot wrong and fell with those tools. I'm an old fool." he exclaims with a sigh.

"You're not at all, you wanted to get paid for the hard work! But even if they don't have to pay you this job, though, you'll find another one," you tell him, passing the sponge between his neck and shoulders.

He shakes his head, "I don't know, the truth is maybe I should stop giving myself over to these things and do something else, even though this is what I am." he concludes by lowering his head.

"Joel," you say stopping washing him and squatting down next to him "don't talk like that about yourself, you're 47 years old it's true, but that doesn't mean you have to quit, it's true yours is a dangerous job, but you can still do it. Maybe not open construction sites, you could renovate single-story houses, you could do something a little less dangerous." you tell him abandoning the sponge and stroking his face "Look at me, please" he finally looks up "You're fine like this, you're perfect like this. It happens to everyone to fail, but if for every failure we said I'm not good enough I'd better give up, well we wouldn't live anymore!"

His formerly sad eyes become sweet and serene again, he reaches out a hand to you and caresses one cheek, this contact makes you close your eyes, you surrender to him, as always, whenever you are with him.

"You're sweet, I've always said so."

You smile looking into his eyes, "We need each other, did you see?"

He nods, "I'm taking your advice. Will you take one from me?" you look at him questioningly, "I read that there's in Seattle a contest for new writers, entries are due in June, why don't you sign up?"

A contest for new writers? Oh, it's always been your dream to sign up for a literary contest, but Seattle is so far away. . . so far away from him.

"I know that look," he says making you look up at him, "you don't have to say yes or no right away, think about it. I'd like to know and see you accomplished. I'd like to see a picture of you everywhere that says writer of the year." he says smiley and making you smile "Or maybe see you win the Pulitzer Prize." he adds making you smile nervously as your vision blurs "I don't want you to stay in that ugly, dreary little town, you have so much potential. It would be a shame to waste it over there in a bar or even in a library, I have nothing against people who do those jobs," he tells you, cupping your face and caressing your cheeks with his thumbs, "but I wouldn't want you to do that forever. You have a unique mind, you're brilliant, you're smart, you're too much to be confined only to yourself." you're crying, you can't hold back the tears anymore "Maybe someday someone might come and make some documentary about you and who knows they'll do some interviews around and they'll interview me too and I'll say I know her, I met the wonderful woman who's driving everybody crazy."

"Stop it," you tell him sobbing and hiding your face in your hands.

He calls you gently pulling you to him to hug you, you hide your face in the crook of his neck heedless of getting wet yourself. He holds you tightly to him, his hands caress your back, "'s okay, honey, 's okay." he says kissing your forehead, your cheek, your neck, your lips.

The truth is, you don't want to fulfill your dream if you know you have to leave him.

You surrender into his kisses, into his strong arms holding you to him trying to push that thought away as much as possible because, for you, it's not acceptable.

A/N Thank you for your support, for your likes and reblog, thank you, thank you, thank you ❤️If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging and leaving comments 🫶 if you don't like it don't be rude and keep going. 😉 Please remember English is not my first language, so please be merciful! 🙏 The girl in the gif has the purpose to represent the situation only 🙂

[neneism]

Nagi Seishiro ! screw homework, look at me instead.

alternatively… nagi wants your attention. you just want to finish your homework for once. content... wc 1.5k, established relationship, fluff fluff and more fluff message... based on literally every single you’re doing homework and someone wants your attention fic. let me live my life

"Hey.” Utter silence.

"Hey. Hey. Heyyyyy. Don’t ignore me,” Nagi pouts when you make no move to acknowledge him. “Is your homework more interesting than me?”

"You were the one that decided to come over Sei. I told you I was gonna be busy doing homework." You glance over your shoulder to look at him lying down on your bed while holding his phone only to look back at your desk immediately after.

He pouts and puts his phone down before turning over to look at you. "But homework is so boring," he says while burrowing his face in your pillow and dragging out the last syllable of his sentence. "Just do it later, it shouldn't take long since you're so smart. You could cheat too."

Nagi's pout only deepened at the short glance you ended up giving him, hating how you won't look at him for longer. He sighs and slowly sits up to lean against your headboard.

"You're so mean," he whines out while throwing his head back. "You didn't even look at me. Just leave your homework and come here."

"Don't you have homework to be doing too? I know for a fact that you didn't finish it in class since you were sleeping and I distinctly remember telling you that I won't give you any answers," you say mindlessly, not even sparing a glance to continue working on your assignment.

"So what. I can cheat later," he smirks, not caring about his homework. But his face quickly morphs into a sulking expression as he pouts and looks at you again.

"Stop working already. Come here and pay attention to me," Nagi pleads, dragging your name out, using a cutesy tone.

"I can just hear the pout you're making. I'm sorry Sei, but this is really important," you look back at him again and smile to console him. "Maybe you can take a nap? I'll probably finish by the time you wake up."

Nagi grunts. He hates how you’re acting right now, how you can act so disinterested like there’s something more important than him, how you can be so focused and so serious on something else other than him, how you won’t give your attention to him and only him. 

All you can see is a child protesting as he crosses his arms and frowns looking straight at you. "No way," he responds. "As if I'd do something even more boring than homework."

"I don't know what to tell you then. Play a different game or something. You could always go hang out with someone else. I'm pretty sure Reo is free right now," you smile at him before turning around to do more homework.

He frowns at the fact you aren't even looking at him anymore. He frowns even deeper remembering that you told him to leave and hang out with someone else. Nagi really hates that he wasn't getting any attention, and refused to let that slide.

Sluggishly, he stands up and slowly walks over to where you're sitting at your desk. He stands behind you and pouts again while he wraps his arms around you and slumps over to rest his chin on your shoulder. You can see his pleading, puppy dog eyes staring at you from the corner of your vision as he starts playing with the hem of your shirt.

"Sei! What are you doing?! You're heavy!" you yell out incredulously, as you're forced to scrunch up because of his sudden weight. You furiously tap his arm, repeating "get off" hoping he'll be annoyed enough to stop.

"Hmmmm," he doesn't move using his groan as a response. Instead, he wraps his arms around you tighter and pulls you even closer to him, starting to nuzzle his face against your neck while placing small pecks on the area.

"Let go, you big baby. This is what you get you know. If you let me finish this during class earlier then we wouldn't be having this problem right now," you tell him, moving your hand up to tap his head instead.

"It's not my fault," he whines, "and I don't wanna let go," he replied childishly continuing to peck your neck. The look he gives you is downright begging, with his pleading expression. "Please. Attention first. Finish your assignment later after you've given me all of your attention. Please. Pay attention to me. Please, please, please, plea-"

"Oh my gosh, be quiet, you're so annoying," you say letting out a small laugh at his persistence. You start to slowly lower your head on top of his, which is still buried in your shoulder. "Fine, fine, what do you want?"

His face instantly lights up at your words, which you have to hold In another laugh because of his silly expression. A small smile appears on his face while he lifts himself off of you.

"I want to hug and cuddle you on the bed. Please," he says in his usual deadpan voice, but you can hear a tinge of embarrassment in his admittance.

"Mmmm, I don't know," you tell him teasingly while turning around in your chair to face him. "What would I get out of that?"

Nagi pouts at your teasing, expecting you to immediately say yes to his demands. He's definitely spoiled off of your attention. He frowns and crosses his arms as he thinks of a response to your question.

"I know you want kisses and cuddles, but you have to give me more attention too," he replies in a grumpy voice, not expecting to have to bargain with you.

"Who says I want that? I'm pretty sure you're the one who wants that stuff. I just wanna finish my homework," you tell him while slowly turning back in your chair to face your desk yet again.

Nagi blushes slightly at your words before he frowns at your chair turning back. He can't believe you're bullying him like this right now.

"Hey, no! You aren't allowed to turn back!" he immediately grabs the back of your chair and turns you around to face him, putting his hands on the arms of the chair, caging you in. On his face is a serious expression, combatting the bright pink blush coloring his skin. "I do want that stuff. Because I'm very very clingy and very very needy. So you should give all of your attention to me instead of your stupid homework."

You weren't expecting his straightforward confession, surprised at the honesty. "Okay," you bashfully respond, too flustered to come up with a proper comeback. With wide eyes, you look down to avoid looking at him.

Your boyfriend lifts an eyebrow at your shy display. It's the first time in a while that he's seen this bashful demeanor, the one and only other time being when you started dating. His lips lift ever so slightly at the sight, wanting to see your whole face. He gently grabs your chin with his pointer and thumb, and forces you to look him in the eyes.

"Looks like I said the right thing, hmm? But... I want you to say it. Say that you'll give more attention to me than your homework. Pretty please," he pleads, wanting nothing more than your undivided attention.

Your face screws up at his words before eventually settling on a pout. In a low grumble, you tell him, "I'll give you more attention than my homework."

He smiles hearing your response, and gives a smirk seeing your pout. He moves his hands to settle across your shoulders and responds to you in a teasing tone, "Was that so hard? I'm less annoying than your homework anyway."

"That's what you think," you grumble under your breath. "Whatever, help me up," you say while grabbing his hands off your shoulders and looking at him expectantly.

Nagi lets out a small scoff at your tone, while slightly walking backwards to pull you to your feet. When he makes sure you're fully standing, he wraps his arms around you again, pulling you taut against his body. Leaning down, he softly nuzzles his nose on the crown of your head and softly inhales. "You smell good," he hums out, voice muffled in your hair.

"Don't be weird, you freak," you tell him playfully while snaking your arms around his back to reciprocate his hug. You start slowly walking forward towards your bed hoping Nagi will take the hint.

His soft hums quickly turn annoyed at your words. He didn't like you calling him things like that, even jokingly. His annoyance quickly fades away, when he catches on to what you're doing and lets you guide him backward, trusting to not fall.

When you reach your bed, he quickly flops down, dragging you down with him. Nagi lets out a content sigh as you both readjust for comfort, pulling you close to him when you stop moving around.

"You happy now, Sei?" you ask him, moving your hand up to fiddle with his soft strands, before moving back down to slide under his sweatshirt.

"Mhm," he sighs into your hair, pulling you ever impossibly closer, already falling asleep in the warmth and comfort of your embrace. He won't be letting go of you anytime soon. He loves being close to you, and this is exactly what he wanted.

neneism 2024. do not copy, change, translate my works.

[mariii1]

🧚🏾‍♀️Messages From Your Queer Ancestors✨

I'm backkkkk, check Patreon for my extended general version of this reading!

AHHHH I'm so excited to launch my Patreon, you guys don't even know about all the ideas I have lined up and I'm sure there's more to come as this month goes on! Anyway these photos are all from pinterest buttt see if you can guess who's a very important figure and whyy 😽

1. So a few of you in this pile are trying to force yourself to forgive qhen you don't actually want to (or need to) and for the rest you're almost bulldozing over your identity and how it's affected you. I have a feeling you hang around people who don't know about your identities and would outright make fun of you or disrespect you in some way because of it. Your ancestors are way more sad than angry; if anything they're sad that these people are around you and they're sad that you don't honor or place importance on those aspects of your identity enough to walk away from them. Some of you might believe you'll never find people who truly accept and understand all these aspects of you so you've completely given up on it. Your environment might now is definitely very homophobic/transphobic or just xenophobic in general. While you might've been born in these environment or have had to stay in it, your queer ancestors want you to believe in yourself and in your queer identities; those aspects matter just as much as other parts of yourself. They want you to focus on creating an exit/escape plan out of this situation and to find the strength and hope in you to believe you will be able to find the right people one day instead of just completely shutting this idea out.

2. Things are going to change for you very, very soon. Some of you may be doubting a partner or a close friend in terms of loyalty or how much they love/respect you, but you'll soon realize these are just fears with no real basis. You will hit the jackpot somehow or you'll realize you have already in some area of your life. If you're financially broke right now, there's an idea or action you take that'll be the jackpot literally in terms of money and its something you didn't expect to happen, or at least to such a large degree. Keep doing what you're doing and the truth will be revealed to you soon.

3. I feel like me and your queer ancestors would've been good buddies and they've been so nice to me since the beginning of this reading. You're blessed spirituality in terms of family even if your immediate family right now is dog shit. You all however are really tired. I'm getting for most of you this isn't necessarily physically but more tired of people trying to fuck you over or fuck with you in general. You might've had to cut a lot of people out and seek justice or revenge in some way; ways that might be very tedious or draining like filing paperwork, legal battles, etc. I'm sincerely sorry if you have experienced some form of assault especially sexual assault please rest assured you will get justice whether through the system or not. You feel really tired pile 3 and this might sound infantilizing but I mean it in the sweetest way, you need a hug. You need someone to be understanding of you and you might wish you had someone physical to rant to. This might not bring you much comfort but your ancestors are watching your struggles and they wish they could coddle and baby you. A few of them see you as a baby and it breaks their heart that their baby is so stressed out 🥹 they are still proud of you and are rooting for you ad wish to send you lots of money so you can focus on self-care. Don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it pile 3!

4. Some of you feel very stagnant or just stuck in a situation especially financially. You might've realized something was a scam or actually wasn't going to lead to anything more; this could be about staying at a toxic workplace in hopes of getting a promotion or being transferred to a better team. I'm also having a hard time focusing on your reading so you might just be feeling overwhelmed or scattered. You realized a situation would never get better but now you don't know what to do or you've convinced yourself you have no other options left that are any better. However, I'm getting this really isn't true and it might take a drastic change in your mindset in order to see the potential of other possibilities. This could be realizing going back to school or learning a trade might not be so bad or that maybe relying on online income (influencing, youtube, etc.) Could actually be a real plan. These are just examples but your queer ancestors are really begging you to try and think outside of the box and realize "standard" job opportunities might not be as reliable as they seem and that options that seem very flaky, can be very stable if you put in the work.

[kpop---scenarios]

Reckless (5)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Brothers Best Friend

Warning: Heartache

Word Count: 2.2k

Taglist: @hyunjinhoexxx @ovulatingrn @jisunglyricist @guiltycoco @fawnpeaks @purple-bell @caught-in-the-afterglow @ana-marais98 @rylea08 @astraystayastayastray @partyparty-yah @skzswife @sillyhal @blackbluerose666 @mmarusa @seungminsapuppy @chanbahng29

A/N: Let me know in the comments if you think Y/N will give Minho another chance!?

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

“What the fuck are you two doing!?” You scream as you run down the stairs, just as Chan raises his fist to Minho. You place your hand on Chan's chest, looking up at him with worried eyes. He's so focused on Minho he barely notices you there, until you press your hand harder on his chest. He feels you, he looks down, into your eyes and breathes. You can see the bruise forming under his eye right before you. He lowers his fist, unleashing his hand.

“I'm sorry, Y/N.” Chan sighs.

“Are you okay?” You ask, gently running your thumb over his swollen face.

“Nothing I haven't dealt with before.” He chuckles. You smile at him before turning around. “You.” You snap, pointing at Minho.

“What?” He asks, crossing his arm.

“What the fuck is your problem!?” You yell. “Why are you punching Chan?”

“He fucking deserved it.” Minho spits. Chan lunges for Minho. You get in between the two, pushing Chan out of the house. The two of you walk to Chan's car as he tries to calm down.

“He's such a fucking asshole.” Chan groans, speeding from your house.

“Tell me about it.” You sigh. You glance over at Chan, as he turns onto different streets to get to the restaurant. You watch him as he chews on his bottom lip, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he drives.

“What's up?” You ask, giving him a smile.

“What do you mean?” He chuckles.

“You look like you're deep in thought over there.” You giggle.

“Yeah.. I'm battling internally about bringing up something. I don't want you mad at me.”

“Just ask.”

You knew it was going to be about Minho. And this time you weren't going to lie.

“You and Minho…” He pauses. You sigh.

“Yes.” You begin. “Minho and I have been sleeping together periodically but..” you now pause.

“But?”

“but.. I'm not sure to be honest. I don't know what it is. He's never taken me out, he tells people I'm not his type, he gets jealous when I'm with other guys but he doesn't want to be seen with me.. he won't tell Jisung about us but he'll go date this Maya girl.. and still fool around with me.. and I know I should stop it, I know he doesn't treat me good, he's mean but he's protective.. and I don't know, I'm just so confused.” You groan, dropping your head into your hands.

“Come on, I'll say what I need to say inside.” He smiles, getting out of the car. You'd been rambling so long you hadn't even noticed the car had stopped. The two of you walk into the restaurant, to be seated immediately. You browse the menu, deciding to go with your favorite brunch menu item.

“So.” Chan says, clearing his throat. “It's good that you realize he's not treating you how you should be treated - and yes, I'm giving you the ‘you deserve better’ lecture, because you do.” He says. “Y/N you're bright, and beautiful and you absolutely deserve the world and someone who is going to publicly praise you in that world.” He smiles.

Your heart flutters. Chan was so sweet, thoughtful and caring. Not to mention so handsome. You felt safe with him and you liked him, so why couldn't you stop thinking about Minho?

“I think I need time away from him.” You say, resting your head on your palm. Time away would do you good but why did it have to hurt your heart so much?

“I think that's the best idea. You're more than welcome to stay with me.” He smiles.

“As much as I appreciate that, you live with Changbin, Seungmin and Jeongin in a two bedroom apartment. I don't think there is much more room.” You giggle.

“I think you're right.” He laughs.

Later that day, you had messaged Hyunjin about crashing on his couch. You vaguely remembered your drunken night together, but definitely remembered him trying to kiss you. You decided that it was just from the two of you being drunk and left it at that. He of course, said yes about 3 seconds after you texted him. When Chan brought you home, you ran upstairs to pack some things, clothes, toiletries, stuff for school, things you would need to be gone for a week or two. You ran back downstairs and left while there was no one home, got back in Chan's car and he drove you over to Hyunjin's place. You hadn't even told Jisung that you weren't going to be home. You wouldn't have been able to do it in person, when he asked you why, what were you going to say? You fucked his best friend and he continued to treat you like shit but you continued to let him fuck you? No, you weren't ready for that conversation. It was easier to lie over text, for you at least. You told him it was a school project. He believed you, of course he did. He knew how you were about school.

“So.” Hyunjin begins. “You wanna tell me why you're staying here instead of your house?” He asks.

“Not yet.” You smile. “I've got a lot of things to sort out.”

“Is it Minho?” He asks.

You nod your head.

“Take your time, sweet. I'll be here whenever you need me.” He smiles. You curled up in the spare bedroom, in the new bed, in the new sheets that Hyunjin went out and bought today, specifically so you didn't have to sleep on the couch. You told him you would have been fine but nope. That's not how he does things.

As you laid alone with your thoughts, you couldn't help but feel like somehow this whole thing was your fault. You technically did start this whole.. whatever it was. But you knew it wasn't. He started it too, not just you. He's as guilty as you, if not more. You felt like you needed to talk to him to see where the two of you stood, but after what he said to you at the restaurant and then him punching Chan.. how could you even face him? You couldn't.

And you didn't.

The first week he texted you, a few times a day. He asked you what was going on, why weren't you home?

I miss you.

Did he? Or did he miss the hole that couldn't say no to him.

You never answered him. You read the messages and used a lot of self control to put your phone down and ignore him.

The second week it was mostly Jisung who messaged you. He was starting to believe it was not a school project that had you out of the house. He asked you to come home so he could talk to you. But you couldn't. Not yet. You were finally starting to feel a little bit different. Thoughts of Minho didn't fill your head at all hours of the day anymore, everyday it seemed to be less and less. You were starting to feel like it wasn't your fault that he didn't want anything more with you. You had often wondered, what was wrong with you? Why weren't you good enough?

And then on the 3rd week, you realized that it wasn't you. It had nothing to do with you and it was all him. You were worth more than what he was giving you. Jisung had messaged you, asking you what the hell was going on. Why Minho was sulking around the house, his fuse was short and he lost it over nothing. He said Minho was miserable and wanted to know if you knew anything about it.

You said you didn't.

By the 4th week, you were feeling better than you ever had. Even Hyunjin had noticed. You were brighter, happier and seemed to be more like yourself.

“You look like you've finally worked through everything.” Hyunjin smiles.

“You're right.” You laugh. “I've finally realized my worth.”

“Good. You deserve nothing but the best.” He says.

“Jisung said he was gonna be out tonight with Jisoo and..him. I'm gonna go home and grab a few other things. Thank you again, jinnie. You really saved me.”

“I'll save you anytime you need.” He grins.

Later that night you walk into the house you hadn't stepped foot in, in a month. It seemed different but the same at the same time. It smelled the same but different. You didn't know how to explain it. You quickly ran up the stairs, walking into your room to grab your things. You got some clothing items and a few other odds and ends you needed. You were going to turn around when you heard a door upstairs shut, footsteps coming down the hall. You freeze. You left your door open. You weren't facing it but you knew. You could feel a pair of eyes staring at you.

“Y/N?” He whispers.

“No.” You panic. “I have to go.” You say, rushing past him, and down the stairs.

“Y/N!” he yells. “Wait!” he chases you down the stairs. “Y/N! Please, wait!” he says, reaching out. He grabs your wrist, pulling you closer to him. You dropped everything in your hands.

“DON'T!” You yell, breathing heavily. “don't touch me. I don't want to talk to you. I'm finally getting to be in a better place.” You gasp.

“I'm fucking miserable, Y/N. I miss you.” He cries.

“Do you miss me? Or do you just miss fucking me?” You snap. Minho looks shocked.

“What?” He asks.

“Is that a hard question to answer?” You scoff.

“I miss you.” He says. “I.. I want to be with you.”

“In public? With everyone knowing? With Jisung knowing?” You ask.

“That's.. it's just..” he pauses.

“Yeah that's what I thought.” You laugh. If you didn't, you'd fucking cry and you didn't want to waste anymore tears on him.

“What can I do? What can I do for you to stay with me?” He asks.

“You seriously don't get it, do you?” You ask.

“Is it because of Chan?” He asks.

“You really don't fucking get it. I fucking loved you!” You cry. Tears rolling down your cheeks, you couldn't hold it in anymore. “I loved you and you used me. And I went along with it because at least I got you in some way.” You breathe. You didn't hear the front door behind you open. Or the footsteps quietly walking in. “But you couldn't be bothered to make any kind of effort for me. Instead you got jealous when I was with other guys, you said vile things to me, you made me feel worthless but I still let you fuck me! I loved you and you broke me! Because you refused to be honest with yourself or with Jisung!”

“You did what to my sister?” You hear from behind you. You turn around, Jisung stands there, Jisoo by his side as he shakes with anger.

“What the fuck did you do to my sister!?”

“I can explain.” Minho says, backing away from the angry man.

“Why the fuck is my sister screaming at you about how you fucked her and threw her away?” He yells.

“I never threw her away, man! I didn't do that. I love her!” Minho yells back. He looks shocked at his words. You stare at him with wide eyes, Jisung still rages.

“If you love her why the fuck would you do that to her?”

“I was scared! I was.. so fucking scared. You said she was off limits, but it was like I became addicted and I didn't fucking want too. You're my best friend, you've done so much for me. I tried to fucking stay away, I said some awful shit to her in hopes she would leave me, I tried dating Maya to move on from her but I fucking can't.” Minho cries. “I'm a piece of shit man, I know this. I fucked it all up, I should have been fucking honest from the start..I'm so sorry. I'm sorry to you Y/N, for everything. Jisung.. fuck man, I'm sorry.” He whispers.

The house is silent. So quiet you could hear your heart beating at Minho's confession. Your head was spinning, you didn't know what to do or what to think. Your heart hurt, but it also was beating for him. You were still so fucking mad at him, but you still loved him. The second you saw him, every feeling you had ever felt for him came rushing back, and you didn't know how to handle this.

“Please forgive me, Y/N.” Minho cries. “Please. I'm so fucking sorry.” He still looked so beautiful even as miserable as he was right now. Even with tears falling down his face as he begged you to forgive him.

It was too much. This was all too much.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Jisung asks. The room was spinning. You felt hot, like your throat was closing up. You looked at Jisung in a panic as your eyes closed, you fell, and the world went black.

[queermatcha]

"Evan, just... talk to him. That man loves you and a little fight doesn't mean your relationship is over. Chim and I fight all the time!"

Buck swallowed thickly and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. It was trembling and he felt tears sting in the corners of his eyes. He really didn't want to cry, but it was so hard to.

"Yeah, but you two... You're soulmates! You were made for each other!" Buck answered with a heavy sigh. He got up from where he was sitting on Tommy's couch in Tommy's living room and started pacing nervously.

This had been their first fight. Tommy had told Buck he needed to leave LA for two weeks for advanced in-service training somewhere in Arizona. The worst thing about this was the fact that Tommy couldn't even come home during those two weeks because of the intense hours of the training. Two weeks without his boyfriend? Buck had just... freaked out about it. One word had lead to another and then, Buck had accused Tommy of not even minding the fact that they'd be apart for two weeks. That maybe, he'd even find someone better at a training center full of other amazing pilots. Then, Tommy's phone had told him he needed to come to Harbor - there was a forest fire and he had been on standby all day. So, Tommy had went to the bathroom to get ready really quickly and Buck had called Maddie immediately.

"Evan, please calm down. Maybe it is not for me to say this, but I do think you and Tommy, that is a perfect fit. You'll be fine. Just talk to him."

Buck heard the bathroom door open again. "I need to go. Thanks, Maddie." He ended the call and looked up to see Tommy standing in the door frame, watching him. "I really hate that I need to go now," Tommy said and Buck swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat again, nodding. "Me too."

Tommy walked over to where Buck was standing and the young firefighter looked at his boyfriend with huge, wet eyes when Tommy's large hands cradled his face oh so gently.

"I love you, Evan," Tommy said and the sincerity in his eyes made Buck's heart flutter in his chest. "And I hate that we'll be separated for two weeks. And I will promise you that I'll still love you when I come back - maybe even more than I do now. I don't care about others, okay? You're the one I want."

Buck stared at him for a few seconds. "I love you too. I've- I've never felt like this for anyone before and I'm so scared to lose you and that's because I freaked out and fuck, I'm so sorry, I don't want to drive you away with being to clingy and too much, I-"

Tommy's lips brushed against Buck's. "You're not too much. You're all I want, Evan." The pilot said. "And fuck, I wish we could keep on talking about this, but I need to go. I love you, okay? And I can't wait to come back home to you."

Home. Tommy spoke of his apartment as their home. Buck laughed wetly, more tiny tears clinging to his eyelashes, with his heart fluttering in his chest. "I will wait for you to come home to me," he said. He leaned in to press a really soft kiss to his boyfriend's lips. "Be safe, Tommy." The gorgeous smile Buck loved so much was now back on his boyfriend's handsome face. Tommy nodded. "I promise."

[almightygremlinblob]

A Honey Trap For The Butterfly

Nanami Kento was everything you needed in a therapist, only as long as you ignored the sinking feeling in your gut.

Even tho there's nothing describing the act of s*x here, it's still a yandere fic - so minors and those not comfy with yandere stuff DNI and have a nice day! 🫶🏽

Word Count: (will update when life stops life-ing lmao)

⚠️Content Warnings⚠️: UNBETA'D, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Yandere!Therapist Nanami Kento, Gender!Neutral Reader (and no bits mentioned), Modern!AU, Hurt/Comfort, Soft Yandere, behaviour that SHOULD NOT be tolerated irl, Nanami says some very comforting shit to manipulate you, no curses.

⚠️Further Content Warnings⚠️️: Unhealthy power dynamics, HEAVY and subtle emotional manipulation, implied stalking, mention of sexual activities, professional boundaries are OUT the window.

When your gut tells you something is wrong, one tends not to believe it at first, and this causes you to dismiss any further warnings.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Sorry, I-I'm just..."

"There's no need to push. Only if you're ready."

"No, I-I'd like to."

Therapy was a tricky thing. There was the problem of getting the right medication for you. There was also the problem of finding the right therapist for you. Which is why some people - like you - search for a very a long time until you finally found one that clicked. Nanami Kento, who was practically everything you needed in a therapist.

"The nightmares are about your family, yes? They say nightmares are ways for the mind to release overwhelming emotions. Can you tell me more about them?"

"Y-yes, I...these nightmares are always the same. My family talking about me behind my back, it's...I feel alienated."

"Hm...it's no wonder these nightmares always coincide with upcoming family gatherings." He scribbles something down, and turns his full attention towards you. "If you're okay with sharing, what makes you think they're alienating you?"

"I...now that you mention it Doctor, it does seem to coincide, but...I-I don't believe I've mentioned...how did you-"

"Ah, it's just an observation." He waves his hand dismissively. "And I told you, you can call me Kento."

-------

"I-I'm so sorry!" You apologize profusely, embarrassed and just a little defeated when you turn up short at the cashier of your favorite coffee shop. There's a brisk walk, and someone familiar drops some change at the cashier for you. Though being payed for was a surprise, the person paying was not. It was Nanami, who you seemed to run into a lot. So much, that bumping into your therapist outside of your sessions was almost the norm. Something about living nearby.

"Oh, Doctor, I-I'm really sorry about this!"

"Oh don't fret, it was only a few bucks." He offers his hand. "Come, sit with me."

You're taken aback. It's not like you didn't WANT to. Nanami was a very attractive man; well built, broad shoulders, and such a handsome face. But, still, he was your therapist. There is a very faint alarm, all the way at the back of your mind, that makes you feel just a little bit uneasy at the proposal.

"A-are you sure this...I mean, i-is this okay?"

"Of course." When he intertwines his fingers with yours, his face and eyes and words are completely welcoming. Laced with nothing but care in order to hide the ugly side just waiting to devour you.

"It's just coffee."

-------

"I think last session was a very eventful one. You did a lot well this week. I'm quite proud of you." He says and hands you the paper for your medications. His warm and strong hands linger on top of yours. "See you for lunch after?"

-------

"I just can't believe they'd do that to me..." You try and keep yourself from crying any more. "They're my family. I shouldn't have to cut them off like this!"

"Hey, hey...I know it doesn't seem like it, but you made the right choice." Nanami gently cups your face with his hand. "I'm proud of you."

"It's okay. You'll be okay." His eyes go over to your lips, as he tilts your head to better align with his. The room suddenly feels awfully quiet, too constricting, when his lips meet yours.

-------

"I think I've come a long way." You sigh and laugh softly. "I'd like to celebrate but...I-I'm not sure how. I'd like to minimize my spending..."

"Well, I'd have to agree, you ARE making fantastic progress." He takes your hand in his. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to celebrate it with you. I have a few ideas we could try."

"Oh, of course!"

"Date night." He brings your knuckles to his lips. "Your apartment."

Nanami stayed over that night. Worshipped your body as if he was made for it. He was a wonderful lover but, the entire experience left you feeling wrong, somehow.

-------

"I don't know what to feel...I just...they're all dead. My family, they're all..." It was all too much, and Nanami wraps his arms around you. "I know what they did but, still, I..."

"Oh, love...it's okay. Let me handle everything; planning, funeral expenses. Everything."

"Kento, that...that's too much-"

"Nothing in the world is too much for you, my dear." He holds your face when you start to cry again. "I would do anything for you."

When he looks at you, his eyes show a devotion and adoration so strong it borders insanity. You'd never expect this 'gentle giant' to be the one that caused your family's deaths. It was nothing you've ever seen from him, and it unsettles you.

"Anything. You know that, right?" He seals it with kiss on the lips, just a bit too harsh, just a bit too possessive. "Stay here, with me - where you belong. Don't worry anymore."

"You're home now."

When your gut tells you something is wrong, one tends not to believe it at first, and this causes you to dismiss any further warnings. It is just one of the many ways that humans self-sabotage. Though, for many manipulators, the intention is to make their victim do so by putting up a welcoming and disarming front - a perfect honey trap.

.

.

Writing this was a TRIP man, ughk. It's so tame and light as a yandere fic but something about writing subtle manipulation just makes my skin crawl the most. 😭 Anyways, hope you enjoy! ✨🫰🏽

[lovecolibri]

The only thing I'm going to say about this (<- probably lying) is that it doesn't matter how Buck felt in that scene. Because Buck isn't real and doesn't actually have feelings. What DOES matter is how it comes across to the audience. And if the vast majority of the audience had an "what the fuck is this and why is it happening like this?" reaction and that was NOT the intention of the scene? Then it wasn't done well.

You should not have to come out after the episode and explain what the scene was supposed to do. If you have to, then you have failed in your job to get across to the writers, directors, and actors what the point and purpose is. And maybe you have failed to take into account what the characters are like, their trauma histories, and how the audience might react given their knowledge of the characters involved.

A lot of people never forgave tay kay for what she did to Bobby in s2, and then having Buck Begins give us this raw, vulnerable version of Buck and his childhood only to have her lash out a couple of eps later calling him "needy" and a bad friend because he asked something of her instead of just being there to give her whatever she wanted? It's no surprise fans and the general audience never got on board with that relationship. Because it wasn't good to BUCK and that's what the audience wants.

I am personally continually BAFFLED that this show gives these moments of gentle teasing and support and validation of Buck's feelings (even when he can overreact a little out of trauma response) to Eddie, and then continually put Buck in romantic relationships with people that don't even seem to LIKE him, much less adore all his quirks and the things that make him BUCK, and most importantly, the things the AUDIENCE loves about him.

It's.....it's almost like Tim isn't even trying. Because the audience isn't SUPPOSED to like these relationships for Buck. Because they aren't the right ones for him. Because we all know who is.

But also, at some point it starts getting questionable as to why the people that love him don't speak up to express concern about him staying in long term relationships with people that are not nice to him. We all know the bait-and-switch of tay kay in s4 being a FOX network call to shut down what Tim wanted to do, and then he left the show with someone who doesn't like, see, or care about Buddie (or really any of the main characters that aren't Angela to live out some revenge fantasy or Buck to live out...other fantasies). So they couldn't very well have all of the firefam desperately asking Buck if he was even happy as he wasted away in that loft all season, or even allow them to be kinda pissed he would choose to be with someone like that who nearly got Bobby killed by not telling someone immediately and interviewing him without consent, but it never sat right with me that it was all just never addressed and they had them breakup on good terms (sorry not sorry but if you think T*mmy isn't nice to Buck, tay kay was worse in every way and thats canon fact).

So I don't have super high hopes that they will address this clear and obvious disconnect with Buck and T*mmy, but considering they made a point to have nearly all their screentime revolve around Eddie, and them not meshing as a couple it would be weird NOT to. Then again, *gestures to all that rambling above*

ANYWAY

The point it, at SOME point the audience does have to be a consideration because without an audience you do not have a show. So Tim needs to shake off the last of the Lone Star cobwebs, get KR the fuck out of the writers room, and make sure his intentions for scenes are ACTUALLY what make it onto the screen, and that what is on screen is stuff that will resonate positively with the audience. Maybe he should rewatch the first 3 seasons of the show himself to get back into the groove.

[inkblot22]

Give You Something To Cry About

Yay, my time management skills continue to be straight ass. Sorry to the anon who has waited so patiently for this, and thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write this depraved ball of snot. Headers by @/cafekitsune. Also don't believe everything you see on the internet, there's no scientific proof that certain things work for your skin. I think Vil would know that, considering.

This Fic Is For: Anyone who can handle it! Once again, I tried to make it as gn as possible, considering Rook's use of Franglais, but I'm delusional and will say I did exactly that. Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, and no real allusions to specific body parts are made for them.

TW for DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, forced dieting, non/dubcon, mentions of death, questionable use of magic, captivity, someone has a case of dacryphilia and a strong sadist streak, won't say who, Rook Hunt because he freaks me out, unhealthy relationship dynamics, abuse, forced BDSM if you squint, I feel so bad for the reader in this one, toxic relationships, possibly OOC characters.

“I am not going to tell you again, my love.” Vil bends down to get in your face, already wearing his ceremonial robe and heels. He points a finger in your face, like you’re a small child or a dog, “If you continue to pick at your skin, I am going to let Rook punish you this time.”

You swallow and look away, and Vil pinches your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, pulling your head so you’re looking at him again. His violet eyes bore into you, and you swallow again.

He looks offended, almost, “Well? Have you forgotten basic manners? Speak.”

Your voice sounds dry and weak, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

He seems satisfied enough with that, moving around as he continues to prepare for whatever school-wide assembly is happening today. He elegantly tucks his hair behind his ear and sighs, scrolling through some page on his phone.

You remain standing where you are, turning your head to look out the window. It’s so pretty outside, but you only get to leave this room whenever Rook is watching you or Vil sends you on an errand. It’s always spring, never too hot, never too cold, but you’re sweating anyway.

Vil approaches you again and tilts your face back so you’re looking at him with a hand on your cheek. His eyes narrow a fraction.

“Your skin doesn’t seem to like this foundation. Make sure you discard it today; I’ll get you a new one.” He bends down again, this time to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He rubs his own together after pulling away and smudges his thumb over your bottom lip, “Hmm. What lipgloss is this?”

Your voice doesn’t sound so dry, but it still doesn’t sound like you, “Uh… The dark red one with the metallic purple? ‘Electric Berry’?

He’s silent for a second, just staring down at your lips as he cups your chin, and then he sighs and turns away, “It’s sticky. I’d tell you to wash your face and reapply your makeup, but that’d be a waste. Make sure you put on lip balm next time.”

You swallow, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

“I have to get going now. You’d better be at least halfway done with that list by the time I return.” He breezes towards the door and gives you a last, long look. He’s completely silent before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Your palms ache. You stiltedly wander towards the list pinned in the closet, glad to see it’s not insane today. All you need to do is tidy the bathroom and skim through Vil’s mail to see if it’s anything but hate mail or advertisements. Tack on getting rid of that foundation and that’s it, at least until he returns at lunch.

You relished this time to yourself, even if it was just cleaning or whatever else. Vil always said that motion is good for you, a structure does the mind good. You didn’t care much anymore. As you sat down to search through his mail, finding nothing but the usual hate mail and what appears to be a poem from Rook (why did he even mail that? He’s not even down the hall from this room,) you catch yourself craving something sweet.

The diet Vil has you on sucks. He has assured you that your body is lovely, and he is having you eat like this to help clear your skin, but really you just want something. Anything, you’d even take a breath mint over this lack of junk food. You’re young, what young person doesn’t enjoy gratuitously unhealthy food? A basket of french fries? Ice cream? 

You frown to yourself and toss the last of the mail into the recycle bin. You know he’s just going to check it over again anyway, but at least you’re moving around. That’s what he would say.

By the time you’re almost done scrubbing the tub, you hear the door open. You don’t want to go greet him, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything and keep cleaning, making sure to disinfect the non-slip mat that resembles a bunch of ugly gems glued together. 

You hear him clicking towards you, and his hand rests on your shoulder, “Going above and beyond today? I have lunch, come eat.”

You school your expression and stand up, pulling off your cleaning gloves and hanging them on the rim of the tub before you follow Vil. He ensconces himself in his desk chair, leaving you to awkwardly lift the stool near his vanity. He hates it when you push the furniture.

He clucks his tongue, not even looking at you, “Lift with your knees, darling. As much as I’d love to massage your back if you pull something, I simply don’t have the time.”

You can’t help it. You shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster as you lift with your knees, right as his eyes flick up to meet yours. You nearly drop the chair as his lips curl into a cold smirk.

“Do you have something to say?”

You hastily shake your head, “No, Vil-”

“Then don’t allow me to see that expression on your face again.” He bites, “Come sit down.”

You put the stool down a little harder than you mean to and take a seat beside Vil at his desk. He passes you your nice little container containing one of several things he gets you- a pile of leafy greens and chopped veggies on a bed of quinoa, fresh fruit, and a murky green smoothie topped with chia seeds.

 You don’t like chia seeds. They remind you of frog eggs- a bunch of slimy lumps, sliding down your throat. You accept the straw Vil passes to you and stir the smoothie before eating in silence.

Vil doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him for feeding you. Since he’s keeping you here, it’s pretty much the least he could do. Still, it doesn’t make up for hearing about his boring day.

“This morning’s assembly was complete and utter chaos, as usual.” He muses, sipping his own smoothie. It’s a soft purple. “It’s ridiculous. Those brutes never wear their robes correctly.”

You don’t respond. There’s two reasons: first of all, you don’t care, and secondly, there’s a knock at the door. Vil hums, as though he’s been waiting for someone, and turns to face the door.

“Who is it?”

That boisterous voice you are so used to hearing echoes past the door, “‘Tis I, Roi du Poison. I have come to join you for lunch.”

You can hear the smile in Vil’s voice, “Oh, of course. Come in.”

As Rook walks in, you feel a stab of jealousy in your chest. He takes a breezy seat on the loveseat in front of Vil’s bed and glances at you. You break eye contact and dully pick at your salad.

Vil treats Rook so nicely. He considers his feelings and opinions, although he doesn’t always listen. He speaks to him as though he’s a person. You suppose Vil’s obvious care for Rook trickles down to you in some capacity, but it hurts. Vil claims that the two of you are lovers, but really you’re more like a doll.

“Do you mind meeting me in the lab later on, Rook?”

Rook chuckles from where he is and you cast another glance at him. His eyes meet yours, again, and you look away, again.

“I can always make time for you, beautiful Vil.”

You lamely pick at the fruit, having finished the salad, before you decide to save it for last. You take a sip of your smoothie after stirring it again and openly recoil, trying not to cough. You didn’t smell it, but there must be ginger in there, because there’s a mellow burn alongside the bitterness from the kale. It makes your eyes water and settles in behind your nose.

“Mmm. Something wrong?” Vil smiles at you.

You shake your head, blinking rapidly so you don’t start crying. There’s not enough tears to fall, but taking your chances is stupid, “No, Vil. The ginger just caught me off guard.”

“Oh. My apologies, I should have warned you. I don’t want you catching a cold, and you’ve been a little irregular. The smoothie also has spinach, kale, avocado, chia seeds, and, of course, a little mango.”

You nod and force yourself to smile, taking another sip and soldiering past the rush of that aromatic pain in your sinuses. “Oh, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, darling.” Vil turns away from you to speak to Rook again, “What else did you have planned?”

“I thought I might take a walk. It is a wonderful day, non?” There’s a slight mocking tone to Rook’s voice, “Hardly the type of day to be cooped up all day, hmm?”

Vil furrows his eyebrows as you choke down the last of the smoothie. His voice is curt, “You can say what you mean.”

“Est-ce que je peux? You are not very open to suggestion.”

Vil narrows his eyes at Rook, taking a deep sip of his smoothie before he places it on the coaster sitting upon his desk. He uncrosses his long legs and stands, walking over to sit with Rook on the loveseat. Rook watches him approach with a smile, the same pleasant one he usually wears before he shoots you a beaming grin and turns to look at Vil.

Their conversation is hushed, and you can’t really make out all of what they say. You can hear someone say your name, Vil’s tone swiftly turns vitriolic, then sweetens once more, and Rook chuckles under his breath. When their little meeting is over, Vil walks back over and finishes his smoothie before petting your head like you’re some kind of cat.

His hand strokes the crown of your head, then smooths over your cheek, he cups your jaw and thumbs over the swell of your lip, all while staring at you with a look you cannot read. And then he tilts his head, and smiles.

“Make sure you thank Rook. And you mistook a letter from my father as garbage.”

“Yes, Vil.” You reply obediently, “Sorry, Vil.”

He smiles. Your palms ache, and you have to bite back the urge to move, to peel at your cuticles or scratch the sides of your fingers.

“I’ll see you in class, Rook.” Vil says politely before he tilts your face up and pecks you on the lips.

You’re left alone with Rook. He doesn’t get up, not yet. You remain where you are, looking at your slippers. You hear Rook stand up and discard his garbage. You can feel him come up to stand behind you. 

“Has today been particulièrement difficile? My poor dear… You seem so sad today.” His arms wrap around you, looping them around your shoulders so they warm your collarbones like a scarf and he can rest his cheek against the back of your head. You hear him take a deep breath in.

With Vil, you don’t even try to speak anymore. You know he won’t really listen to you, because he knows better than you… But with Rook, as long as you wait a moment to make sure he is done speaking, he welcomes and even encourages you to speak your mind.

Your breath hitches and you swallow, “Uh, I mean… I guess I’m just having a bad day. It’s really been the same as usual.”

“Hmm.” Rook hums, completely devoid of emotion. You feel him turn his face so his nose is buried in your hair. He presses a kiss against your hair and sighs, “Ah, yes, the monotony of life is très épuisant, mmm?”

You wait for a second, then deliberately don’t answer the question in favor of asking your own, “Um, he said I should thank you?”

“Perhaps you should ask why more clearly. I have convinced our very own Vil to allow me to arrange a surprise for you.” Rook removes himself from your back and turns you around to face him, “And thus, I believe I have earned a kiss from you.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t get time to really back away or tell him to explain, as Rook squishes your cheeks with one of his gloved hands until your lips part.

His grip isn’t as harsh as Vil’s, but this is still something that only happens when you’re in more trouble than usual, so you involuntarily wince and close your eyes, cowering away from Rook as he dips his tongue into your mouth and slithers it between your teeth.

It is very easy to like Rook. He is passionate, and he’s far more kind to you than your supposed lover is. He’s intelligent and has an adonis-like form, and if not for the taste of blood on his tongue from whatever he ate for lunch or the grip he has on your face, maybe you would enjoy this kiss. But the big issue is that Rook honestly frightens you a little.

It’s absolutely not his fault, not entirely. Upon first meeting him, it was hard to tell if he was being genuine. He’s difficult to read, as he is often wearing the same set of expressions and his tone is always a bit melodramatic.

His hand releases your face to clamp around the base of your head, his tongue twisting in your mouth, pressing against the crevices in your teeth.

Not only is Rook hard to read, he is also uncannily observant and will not hesitate to ask somewhat invasive questions about his observations. The fact that he dresses in a way that conceals his mass is also disconcerting, as you were unaware that he had such a build until you saw him roll up his sleeve one time. You were aware Vil could do a lot of damage, but that was the day you realized that Rook was capable of doing about as much as Vil, if not more.

He purrs into your mouth, the vibrations feeling oh-so-wrong, and his other hand clamps down on your shoulder. He sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s not a good feeling, as he is literally stealing what little air is in your mouth. When you feel something feather light flutter against your lashes and cheek, you feel a bit confused for just a moment, not even a second, before you realize that Rook just blinked. His eyes are open. 

He pulls away and sighs, almost dreamily. You suppress your distressed sputtering, holding your breath as Rook stares at you.

“Ah, enough time has passed. I will need to leave you, mon lapin. Thank you for indulging me; your kiss was divine and tasted sweeter than the finest fruits!” He presses something into your palm and adjusts his hat before he casts you a wave and shuts the door.

You stand there, your lips drying out from the saliva left on them and your cheeks feeling a little odd from the way he was holding your face. You’re processing, because, ever as always, Rook is simulated spontaneity. So many things just happened, and you don’t… 

You blink a few times and look down at your aching palm stupidly. The crimson cellophane crinkles as you unclench your fist. He gave you a piece of candy.

Just looking at it makes you start crying. One second you’re staring wide-eyed at the little lump of sugar, and the next your vision is blurring and you’re crying off your makeup, plump tears cascading down your face. Your nose begins to run and you sniffle. You can’t find it in yourself to sob, because you’re mostly certain that these are happy tears. 

Unfortunately, you can’t eat the candy now. If you threw the wrapper away, Vil would notice it in the garbage and you’d get in trouble for “breaking your diet plan.” So you hide it in the very back corner of the drawer of Vil’s armoire. You’ll be tidying it on your own anyway, and Vil never reaches all the way into the back of it.

Once your tears have stopped, you stand up and go back to cleaning the bathroom. It’s spotless and smells like lavender and lemons about an hour before Vil gets back, so you decide to skim one of the books on the shelves. 

It’s not long before you’re bored with that as well. You carefully put the book back and wander over to the lattice window, staring out of it. The window, paired with your usual low mood, made you sort of feel like a bird in a very ornate cage. 

From where you are, about three stories up, you notice a familiar figure notching an arrow before he unnotches it and takes a knee. You blandly spectate as he fiddles with the bow.

Partway through him notching the arrow again, you see his hat tilt. He’s far away enough that you can’t see his eyes, but you can feel his stare. His gloved hand bends his brim and you jerk away from the window, only to bump into someone.

You don’t get to shriek, as a hand clamps over your mouth. It’s just Vil, but you don’t relax yet as he drags you towards the bed and deposits you there.

“How many times must I tell you to stay away from the window?”

He’s never once told you to stay away from the window. Not as far as you can recall, at least. Your lips tremble and you decide it’d be more wise to keep silent.

Vil glares down at you and you feel the rest of your body start to tremble. His lips curl into a displeased sneer, “You didn’t wash your face after crying?”

“N-no, Vil-”

“We do not stutter.” Vil hisses, bending to get in your face. He stares at you for a moment before standing straight again, “Speak up.”

You swallow and clench your hands into fists, “No… Vil. I… got rid of the foundation like you, um… asked me to. I wouldn’t have been able to redo-”

“Alright. Go wash your face.” Vil interrupts you again.

You jump up and rush into the bathroom, going through your skincare routine. You can feel Vil staring at you, your skin crawling under his gaze. As you rub moisturizer into your skin, Vil finally says something.

“Did Rook do something to you, darling?” His tone is soft, tentative.

You glance at him, blinking a few times. What does he mean by ‘something’? He did do something, but it wasn’t bad, or particularly different.

“Um… Not exactly.” You say, massaging your forehead.

“I see. What did he do?” 

You look down at the sink. You’re not saying anything about the candy. “Rook kissed me?”

“That should not be a question.” Vil says. You see him shake his head through your peripheral, “Would you like to change your clothes before I redo your makeup?”

You’d like to ask what he’s talking about, but instead, you look down at your clothing. You don’t have a proper Pomefiore uniform because you’re not a part of this dorm. You’re an interloper- or a caged bird.

You don’t know what to do here. You don’t want to say something wrong and unintentionally offend Vil. Your palms ache. You give him a confused look from where you are.

He doesn’t look impressed, but before he can say anything about you gaping at him, you speak up, “What… am I supposed to do?”

You’ve only seen Vil surprised a few times. He raises his eyebrows and looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads, then sighs, “Well, I suppose I’d like to see you in something else. I’ll choose your outfit.”

That’s nothing new, he always does that. You wait in the bathroom for him to return. He strolls back in with a mockery of the Pomefiore uniform. There’s a deep purple cloak and capelet, which Vil drapes on the bed before handing you the actual clothes. It’s a very ruffled dress shirt, the long, puffy sleeves cinched into more ruffles at the wrist paired with a pair of black bloomer-style shorts. The buttons are all white and gold, marbled together. 

Vil leaves the bathroom and you change, neatly tucking your previous clothing away in the hamper. When you leave, as usual, Vil picks at your clothing, making sure it looks as good on you as he pleases, and then he steers you to sit down.

For however vicious he can be, Vil can be oddly gentle. For every time he grabs you roughly, his touch is feather-light ten more times. He hums a soft tune as he puts light makeup on you, just your eyes and lips, and then he drapes the cloak around your shoulders and places his hands on his hips.

“You look lovely. Go put on the pair of gold boots with the black decals.”

You do as told. He very likely wants to just take pictures of you or something so he can ask that Mira app about it.

Except when you stop in front of him, he doesn’t tell you to go sit in the loveseat or on the table near his window, no, he scoops you up and presses his forehead against your jaw.

“Oh, when did you put on this cologne? What a ravishing smell on you.” He presses a kiss on the column of your throat and breezes out of his dorm room's door.

Almost immediately, you go limp in his arms, like a doll. He never gave you explicit verbal permission to leave this room, so the curse he placed on you when he decided you should be his smashes into you like a giant wave at the beach.

Vil carries you all the way outside and looks at your face, then happily struts along the path behind the dorm. Since you can’t turn your head, you can only go off of the view of Vil’s neck and chin, the sky, and whatever you can hear.

“Ah, I am glad to see you did not change your mind, Roi du Poison. J'aurais été très déçue et triste pour notre chéri.” You hear Rook say. 

You can almost feel Vil get a mite warmer, “Yes, well. Hand me the basket. Since you want to make out with them and make them cry, you get to carry them as an apology.”

Rook happily scoops you out of Vil’s arms, giving you a cloying look as he strolls along. He and Vil chat as they walk, something not really worth listening in on, just boring musings about class and “this teacher did x” or “that student did y”. An insect lands on your cheek and you are incapable of batting it away or expressing your discomfort. Its legs tickle the peach fuzz on your face and you remain still, like a corpse.

Rook slides you into a seated position, posing you like a toy before shooing the bug off of your face. Now you can see that you’re in a clearing in the woods, seated on a picnic blanket. There’s a few lanterns staked into the ground, and Rook and Vil are busy with whatever is on the floor. You can’t look down, so your best guess is that it’s a picnic.

Vil leans over and snaps in your face, smiling kindly at you, “Now. If I release you, you are not going to run. You are not going to so much as consider running. We are going to have a nice picnic with no shenanigans from you.”

You can’t nod, so you just stare at him, trying to telepathically communicate.

He looks pleased enough, “Wonderful. I give you permission to leave our room.”

Your muscles relax and you look back, finding that you’re leaned against a log. The picnic spread is very nice, as well. It looks like finger sandwiches. You’re not expecting to get to eat one, as you haven’t had bread since Vil switched up your diet. Vil passes something to you.

“Oh.” You mumble, staring at the plate Vil hands you. 

It’s a sandwich. A very wonderful looking sandwich, cut into triangles and with the crusts still on. You blink at it a few times and look back up at Vil.

“Don’t expect this to be a pattern. This is a treat for good behavior.”

You look back down, “Yes, Vil.”

“There’s no need to remind them. They’re being obedient.” Rook’s voice is more firm than you expected to hear him ever speak. Usually his tone is buoyant, and you’ve never seen him outright pick a fight with Vil like this.

“Please. You give anyone an inch, they’ll take a mile.” Vil cuts back, then turns to you and pets your head like a dog or a cat again, “Eat your food, beautiful.”

You take a bite. Bread is just as good as you remember it. The air feels thick, like you’re in a bubble as Vil and Rook communicate through eye contact alone. Before you know it, your sandwich is gone and your hands are covered in crumbs. Rook, still staring at Vil with that happy little smile, wipes your hands and places a glass in your hands. Whatever is in it smells sweet. You take a tentative sip.

Were it Vil, you would have never drank whatever this is. It kind of tastes like a mellow mixed berry juice. It’s very pleasant, actually. Better than the potion Vil used to lace your food and drinks with. You smile into the cup and Vil snatches it from you.

He takes a sip and frowns, handing it back, “Mmm. I have an even better surprise.”

Rook pulls your legs into his lap and gently kneads your calves as you watch Vil rifle through the picnic basket. What is happening? You sip your juice and Vil produces a triangular container. He places a fork on top and hands it to you.

You finish the last of your juice and accept the box, looking conspiratorially at Rook. Something you can’t put your finger on dances in his eyes and he digs his thumb into your shin a little strongly. You flinch and cautiously open the box. It’s a piece of fluffy white cake, with even fluffier meringue and an uncannily perfect cherry wedged into it.

You look at Vil, expecting some kind of trick. Not that he’s ever done that before, usually he’d just take it from you or make some snide comment, things like that, but he and Rook are acting really strange today, 

“I know how much you long for junk food, so I spent some time after club activities today whipping up some angel food cake. It’s got agave instead of sugar so it won’t completely break your diet and your skin won’t suffer as much.”

Yeah, this is weird. The cake is good, though, it’s fluffy and sweet. You pace your bites so that Vil won’t make a comment and you can savor this. You can feel both of their eyes on you and it makes your skin crawl.

You lower the cake box and look at Vil, who looks a bit offended for just a second. The fleeting expression is replaced by a pleased little grin, the mauve lipstick making the curve of his lips all the more sinister in the dimming light.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, Vil.” You glance at the cake and then back at him, “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m a little confused.”

“Why?” Rook asks.

Your shoulders jerk as you turn your head to look at him. You weren’t expecting him to say anything. His chest swells in what appears to be a suppressed chuckle as he squeezes your knee. It seems his hands have climbed.

“Uh…” You swallow, “This is just… not what I’m used to.”

“The cake?” Vil looks hurt. Why does he look hurt?

You shake your head rapidly, “No! Oh- No, Vil. I… It’s just been so long since I’ve been out here…”

“Do you want to go inside, chéri?” Rook murmurs.

You do, but you also don’t really want to risk sounding ungrateful. Being outside has stressed you out more than you’d like to admit. You’re not really sure what to do because Vil has you trained like a dog, and none of what he’s hammered into you involves picnics. You’re scared.

Rooks eyes narrow as you just stare at him. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart is throbbing, and on the other side of you, Vil sighs.

“Well, I’ll start cleaning up, then. When we get back, I expect you to take a seat on the bed.”

That sounds like what happens every time you get in trouble. A terror shudders through you and your eyes water a bit as you gnaw on your lip. Your palms ache as you fight to keep from picking at your cuticles. Vil packs up everything and Rook offers you a princely hand to help you up.

You can feel the calluses on his hands through his gloves as he essentially lifts you to your feet. You keep between Rook and Vil as you walk back to the dorm.

It’s quiet, since everyone else is winding down for bed. For a moment, you think you spot Epel, but you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway. None of your old friends talk to you anymore. Not since Vil started having eyes for you.

Just as you were told, after taking off your boots you take a seat on the bed and retrieve the silver ruler from the side-table’s drawer. You place it beside you as you look down at your feet. You look down at the streaky bruises on the lighter skin on your palms and try not to start crying. It’s always worse when you cry.

He adds smacks by twos. Depending on what you did, you start with four or six, and then any time you flinch or pull away or make a loud noise, he adds two more. Last time, you spilled one of his nail polishes, and after watching you clean it up, you ended up getting ten lashes.

At least Rook didn’t do it then. He tries to make it quick but that just makes it hurt more. A tear slips down your cheek.

You don’t even know what you did. You tap the tear track dry with one fingertip and Vil and Rook fully enter the room.

“Why is the ruler out?” Vil asks, and then his voice goes sharp, “Are you crying?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Vil.” You sob.

“I don’t know why.” He grabs the ruler and shoves it away before you can raise your hands, “Go wash your face.”

You stand up and shakily do as told, returning to sit on the bed. Vil goes into the bathroom after you and Rook takes a seat next to you, his hand on your shoulder.

He smiles at you, rubbing your shoulder, “You are très précieux, chéri.”

You look at him in a state of hollow bewilderment as he brushes his cheek against yours and presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear.

You hear the bathroom door close and a tired sigh from Vil, “Do you have no patience?”

Your head jerks to look at VIl, “Rook is…?”

“Yes, he’s joining us tonight.” Vil plucks the loop of his sleeve from his middle finger and loosens his belt. You get the feeling that the next words he says aren’t for you, “Well, go ahead.”

You feel Rook’s chuckle more than you hear it. With his lips against your neck, his hands begin to slide. The hand on your shoulder rests on the nape of your neck and his other hand slides down to your thigh, then up to your waist. You try not to cringe against his touch, but it’s difficult.

His hand slides down again as he trails his teeth against the back of your ear. His thumb hooks in your pants and starts yanking them down. You outright flinch.

“Wait-”

“Relax, darling.” Vil mumbles, hanging his clothing in the armoire.

You try. You absolutely try. Rook throws your bloomers aside and rests his hand on your lower belly for a moment. He sighs into your ear and reaches up to unclasp your buttons.

You feel stiff. You want to push him away but you can’t move. It’s as though your body is frozen. It’s not due to a curse, so the only possible solution is that you’re quite literally scared stiff. 

He pulls away your shirt and glances at Vil, “Are you prepared?”

“Please.” You can hear the smile on Vil’s lips as Rook turns back and kisses you again, his hand smoothing along your collarbone and shoulders.

Your underwear is the next to go. Of course it is. You fight to keep from breathing oddly, because you’re aware that if you pass out, Vil will get annoyed.

“Mmm.” The devil’s hand glides up your back and you fight back a shudder as Rook leans you backwards into his arms. “How are you feeling, darling?”

You’re honest, “I’m scared.”

“I thought you would say that.” Vil freely manhandles you, shifting you so you’re leaned chest to chest. He slides something off of the side table and passes it behind you, then cups your cheek, “You would save a lot of time and stress if you’d just learn to trust me.”

“I…” You hate him. You hate him so much. He keeps you here like a pet, and you don’t know how he’s supposed to expect you to treat him like a lover when he treats you the way he does. 

Before you can articulate an answer that pleases Vil, a wicked burn besets your sphincter and you clench your jaw. 

Vil’s voice is sharp, “Rook, please.”

You hear Rook make a noise underneath the harsh sound of blood rushing in your ears and your own heavy panting. Something cool oozes around the ring of your ass and you press your face against Vil’s chest. His robe is lazily tied, which is not particularly like him, and you can see his cock poking out where the fabric separates. You let out a strangled noise and Vil shushes you, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Relax. I know, you weren’t prepared. Relax.” Vil soothes.

“I don’t mind if you remain tense, chéri. Mon plaisir n'en est que plus grand. And your little cries and whimpers sont terriblement mignons.” Rook mumbles behind you.

Rook is better than Vil in most areas, but once he gets his dick inside of you, it’s as though he forgets to be caring and kind. The tables flip, with Vil acting the part of a caring lover and Rook becoming a sadistic bully. You let out a ragged sob as Rook rolls his hips and Vil hisses something that you don’t quite catch.

It almost sounded like he was telling Rook to slow down. That very well could have been the case, as Rook eases back a bit and only shallowly thrusts.

Vil continues petting you, coaxing you so your cheek is pressed against his thigh. He is always a perfect warm. He is always perfect, so it sort of makes sense, but his skin is a pleasant temperature. He feels alive, a perfectly human temperature that tells you he’s breathing and his heart is beating. As he fingers through your hair, Rook gives a harsher than usual thrust and you cry out.

“Rook, if you’re impatient then you’re going to hurt them, and neither of us have the time to take care of them all day.” Vil chides, and then his tone softens as he rubs the space between your shoulders, “Are you ready for me as well, darling?” “What…?” You ask, blearily. Somewhere in the back of your awareness, you know what he wants, but you can feel Rook’s thrusts growing impatient and seeing as you weren’t given any prep, you’re in a bit too much shock to think straight.

“Mmm… You’re awfully cute but I need you to be a bit more lucid.” Vil snaps in your ear and resumes his petting, “This isn’t the first time, sweetheart. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

The soft tip of his member spreads his pre like lipgloss against your lips. As you shakily open your mouth, you figure you’re lucky that Vil doesn’t have a chaotic, unhealthy diet like Leona or Ace, that he doesn’t drink coffee for fun or often like Deuce does. The taste of his skin is lightly floral and dominantly human, likely thanks to the body lotion he applies daily. 

He hisses and presses against your forehead, “Ah-ah. You’re taking enough from Rook. Just the tip for me is fine.”

From behind, you hear Rook grumble under his breath, “Je n'en peux plus de cette merde…”

“Watch your- unf- watch your language, Rook.” Vil snarls, massaging the nape of your neck as you carefully lave your tongue over his glans.

Rook’s patience breaks, his hands clamping down on your waist, just above your hips. You have the sense to pull Vil’s cock out of your mouth as Rook begins battering into you.

As much as you feel okay about Rook, he is not a doting lover by nature. He’s mean and brutal, chasing his climax, and only after he cums does he bother to think about you or your needs. Your palms ache as you grab Vil’s member and gently tug on it. Vil flinches and snaps at you to get your attention.

You look to the side and for a second, as the pain ebbs, you assume you’re having an out of body experience, and then you realize that you’re staring into his vanity mirror. Rook’s hair exaggeratedly sways with his motion. He removed his hat but just haphazardly displaced the rest of his clothing. He’s not smiling, he’s making some sort of smug expression.

It’s funny. As Vil is satisfied with you weakly jerking him off, his touch gentle, Rook is wild on your other end. Every time you just barely begin to relax, he thrusts harder, which makes you tense and a spike of pain batters through you. 

You endure as best you can. You endure every day, enduring through eating the same unfulfilling food, enduring through walking on eggshells around Vil, enduring getting your palms beaten to hell for the most human of errors, so what’s getting sodomized in the face of everything else you can handle?

You bite back a shriek as a harsh pinch on your bottom, followed by a smack administered by Rook. He leans down and blows in your ear, snickering as he leans back, “I thought you had given up the ghost for a second there.”

Vil sucks in a breath and you quietly mumble against his thigh.

“Hmm? I didn’t hear you, mon chou.” Rook’s voice is almost mocking, like before.

“P-please… Rook, I can’t-”

“You can. You’ll live.” He grunts, the steady clap of your ass against his body punctuating his statement.

“It hurts.” You sniffle. You’re not particularly prone to crying, but, then again, Rook and Vil usually prepare you before deciding to fuck your ass.

You sob and Rook’s grasp tightens on your waist, a ragged moan punching out of his chest. He pulls your body flush to his and jerks his hips into you, drilling a bit harder for all of four or five thrusts. And then he’s no longer on you, and you feel your body getting shifted so your head is still in Vil’s lap but you’re lying prone.

You tilt Vil’s dick down to massage the head with your tongue and something warm drips on your back. You hear a noise of disgust from Vil, capped by a quiet moan.

“Absolutely not. All three of us are getting in the tub if you don’t clean that up right now.”

Rook chuckles and coos, “Hmm, but it looks so lovely. My alabaster essence creates a wonderful contrast with their soft and supple skin.”

A flush of humiliation crawls up the back of your neck and you hide your face against Vil’s belly, using your own arm to hide the other half. Vil shudders as he pushes your head down a bit, but his voice sounds incredulous.

“That’s vile. It doesn’t have any proven health benefits, you know that.”

You felt Rook’s hands spreading his semen into the skin on your back and your palms ache as Vil cums in your mouth. He doesn’t do that often, so it hits you like a shock.

You gag but force it down and Vil shoots up, fretting over you.

“Did you just swallow that?” He bends down to look into your eyes.

“Yes, Vil.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” Vil snips, sounding much harsher than he might intend, “I’m going to run us a bath, alright, darling? I’ll make sure you can brush that icky stuff out of your mouth.”

It didn’t taste bad. Vil usually cums on your face as an incentive for you to wash your face very well after a day of wearing makeup, or he has you jerk him off until he cums, but the few other times you did taste it, it was the same as this time. It was mostly salty, not too bitter, likely from his good diet. Regardless, he breezes away and Rook gives your bottom a light tap. You stand up and glance at Rook, who is looking a bit disheveled but pretty pleased with himself.

“How are you feeling, cheri?”

“That hurt.” Your voice is quiet, and your throat is still lined with tears.

“Does it still hurt?” He smiles and tilts his head.

The sound of the tub running is thunderous even where you are. Vil would never tolerate you complaining, but Rook is amicable, “A little.”

“The bath will do you good, then. Come.”

You let Rook guide you into the bathroom, his hand on your elbow. As he undresses and joins Vil on the edge of the tub, you look down at your bruised hands and glance at the slowly closing bathroom door, then at Rook and Vil where they stand near the tub.

You can’t say you prefer either of them, really, but you don't get an opinion. Do dolls at tea parties get to ask for a different kind of tea?

[jade4956]

The only stupid thing I ever did was believing you would love me - Jessie Fleming

Jessie Fleming = herself

Niamh Charles = herself

Naomi Charles = Niamh sister

—————————————————————————

Naomi POV

She walking around the apartment grabbing things and shoving them in a bag. She just broke up with me before an argument was gonna start, really we've only been dating since January 2023 and it's now January 2024 and she's breaking up with me because of an argument. Sure we've had disagreements but every couple has arguments is she really that scared of confrontation.

She walked into our bedroom were I sat at the end of the bed putting shoes on. She stopped and stared at me

"Where are you going" Jessie stated

"Somewhere your not" I replied dry and tears finally finishing

"There's no point I'm going to Chloe's"

"It's not like this is our apartment anymore and beside you owned this before me so I'm leaving" I didn't bother looking at her this time

Jessie never thought of it like that she's always thought of "her" apartment as both of there's. She dropped the bag, to be fair she does hate confrontation but she had no right it break up with you because of it, in fact the second she said we should break up she felt like taking it back, it was the panic in her when she heard you get mad at her. She really regretted it.

I got up from tying my shoes, great a new wave of tears was about to happen, i was going straight to Niamh's I thought didn't care if she had company I had to be with someone a trusted so Niamh was the perfect choice.

Jessie started to follow me out the bedroom I was collecting my phone, car keys, apartment keys for when I collect my stuff and Niamh's spare apartment keys.

Jessie's POV

"Who are you gonna go to" she said (she knew exactly who you wear going to)

"Why do you care now you didn't care about me half and hour ago" (she did care)

"I wanna make sure you don't do anything stupid I wanna make sure you still safe" she said willing looking at me

"The only stupid thing I ever did was believing you would love me"

Jessie felt like she had been stabbed with a knife. She did love You she just was scared you were gonna break up with her first.

“I do love you” she has never said it like that before were she just new what to say or how to look usually when she said it was a quick goodnight text if they were on international camp or it would a kiss in the cheek goodnight but never about it in the day I love you.

“Well maybe you should have thought of that before you broke up with me” Naomi stops to listen to Jessie then stated something and walk away out of the door

Jessie went after and her over the elevator Naomi was going to

“Please can we stop and talk I didn’t want to break up with you” Naomi ignored her getting into the elevator and pressing ground but someone else was in there so when Jessie entered she didn’t say anything to Naomi.

Ground level reached and they both immediately got out, Naomi kept walking away as Jessie was following her to her car

“Please, please just stop and talk to me for like 10 seconds I want to explain please” please was the most Jessie could think of and she wanted more then 10 seconds but that was the first thing that came to mind

“Fine what do you wanna say” Naomi questioned

“I wanna say that I’m sorry okay I didn’t want to break up I just got scared” and she was ignored after 10 seconds Naomi started to walk away

“Hey stop please I wasn’t done I didn’t literally mean 10 seconds” They were both 2 cars away for Naomi’s car.

Naomi opened the car and Jessie ran to the passenger seat and got in.

“Get out” was all Naomi said whilst she was getting in, she had a blank face on had she spoke to her.

“Let me talk to you please” Jessie practically begged

“No get out”

“Please you don’t have to respond just listen”

“No I don’t want to even listen to you right now”

“Then I’m not getting out”

“Then I’m calling and Uber”

“No no no okay I’ll get out” Jessie hated when you got Ubers or anyone did because they’d always unfortunately be sketchy ones but she still wasn’t getting out of the car

Naomi gesture for her to get out but Jessie wasn’t moving. Naomi really hated Ubers but she wasn’t getting anywhere with Jessie in the car but she had to stand her ground

“I know hate Ubers Naomi” Jessie said to her “I Know you won’t call one and you just want me to get out”

“If I let you speak will you get out” Naomi said

“YES” Jessie said, she was about to start speaking but then Naomi interrupted her

“I’ll meet you at the cafe down the road from Niamh’s tomorrow then you can talk to me I think we both need some down time or we both might mess up more than we have. Naomi new in her gut that Jessie didn’t want to break up because she knows the type of person Jessie is even though at the start she was pissed and upset she chilled out and felt bad for dragging Jessie around the apartment complex with her begging to be able to speak to her but she was still frustrated and very upset so she need to be with her sister and just chill so that the next day they will both be able to talk together.

A/N: I suck at trying to finish story’s that’s why I do part two but if you want this to end in a full break up or they get together again tell me or do I leave it like this with no part two please tell me because I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ anyways thank you

[ghost-bxrd]

Tim going absolutely feral in his attempts to get Mockingjay away from Hood.

Sure, all of the Bats want to rescue the kid, but they don't really get the danger the kid is in, they are still under the impression Hood cares about keeping the kid safe.

But Tim SAW what Hood is like at the Titans Tower, okay? Hood is freaking insane. Doesn't matter if he cares about the kid or not, he's going to end up hurting, maybe killing, the boy in one of his 'episodes'.

And Tim will do anything to get the kid to come away, to understand what Hood is doing.

He's not going to bother with kid gloves. He's fully willing to scar the kid for life if it means the kid will at least get to live, which he's convinced won't happen if he's left at Hood's mercy.

Tim to Mockingjay on a rooftop: Hi! How's the gang war your boss started coming along? Last one was so exciting. I watched my friend - not a vigilante friend, mind you, just this civilian kid - bleed out when one of the gangs decided to shoot up my school. About two dozen civilians died in the first couple of days. Wanna bet how many you and Hood will bag this time? Have fun!

Tim, tossing Mockingjay crime scene photos of a gang shooting, showing a headshot corpse : Hi! Thought you might like a keepsake! This is Danny, he was eighteen. Dad died, three kids at home, couldn't get any job that paid enough except with these guys. I hear his sister signed up with Penguin's pimps after she got the news. Someone's still gotta feed the kids, right? Have a good lunch!

Tim, waving to Mockingjay: Hi! Sorry I'm late! Had to stay with a kid who found his mom OD'd. You should really ask your boss to show you what an OD death looks like - you'll probably find it pretty cool, all a nice blue shade, with this bloody foam spilling from the mouth, maybe twisted up a bit if they had convulsions first. The kid was crying about how he's gonna get the bastards who sold the stuff, but of course, you and Hood have pretty nice security, right?

Tim waging absolutely ruthless psychological warfare.

Ooo yes Tim would definitely try to pull something like that. What he wouldn’t expect is Mockingjay to give as good as he gets.

After the first few times you can bet Bruce is Fed Up™️ and devises his own little counter attack.

The next time he greets Robin with a merry little “Hey Rob, guess what? Frank just got out of jail again! You know, the guy you locked up in Black Gate for killing his girlfriend? Guess what! He went back to murder her sister, too! Had her spread out all over the apartment with a kitchen knife. Have a nice patrol <3”

Mockingjay, crashing a bust: “Sorry we’re late to the party! Had to take out a pedophile you guys locked up last month but was set free on parole. Guess what? He had two new victims locked up in his basement!”

Mockingjay, cupping his ear: “Sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you over the sound of a two year old screaming because he just saw his dad get murdered in front of him. Because you guys ‘Didn’t have enough evidence’ to get the guy who threatened him convicted. Should we tell Social Services to bill you the lifelong therapy bill or…?”

Mockingjay, throwing a file at Robin’s head: “Hey, Dickhead, remember Tiff? The street kid? Thanks to you sticking her in a “safe foster home” she was forced to go work street corners. Maybe you should tell your boss to do better research.”

Mockingjay is a menace, and if Tim thinks he can guilt trip/horrify the kid into condemning Jason’s work than he’s going to have a rude awakening hehe

[iiotic]

Pointless; Husk x Gn! Reader

ask: Can I request Husk x reader Angst that turns into fluff? It'd be husk and y/n got into a fight a y/n leaves for a bit. Husk gets upset and goes back to his drinking habits before y/n gets there and comforts him while he's drunk out of his mind. - @jx3-xd

tags: use of alcochol, drinking habits, swearing, angst w comfort, pointless arguments, no use of y/n, gn reader, ooc husker??

word count: 0.5k

The sound of yelling, stomping could be heard all across the hall, the strong smell of alcochol would be easily absorbed by someone who'd enter the hotel. The whole team left to do some bonding exercises, while you, who's suppose to be sick, were arguing with your boyfriend.

Originally you were suppose to spend some time together, however both of you knew that you wouldn't be able to get any privacy. You, a mastermind, thought of a plan; if you'd be sick then Charlie would pity you and let you stay, making someone take care of you. Of course you choose your darling boyfriend, Husk.

You weren't expecting things going that bad, hell, you weren't expecting it to go bad at all, it was suppose to be a cozy afternoon for you both. A date.

White noise ringing in your ears, while you were trying to hold back your tears, Husker unintentionally made a horrible joke about your appearance. You knew that he didn't mean it, but it doesn't change the fact that it hurt. You knew that both of you had drank a little however it wasn't helping when he said that you were being "overdramatic".

"Well i-i do not know what you want me to say. You know how I was feeling lately, did you expect me to laugh it off?" You'd say to his face, your own arms hugging your stomach. That disgusting feeling..

Before he could respond you stormed out of the hotel, you didn't want to be disrespected by your boyfriend like that nor did you want to look at his face at the moment. You needed a break, some minutes of fresh air.

You decided to stop at a local bakery, buy something to eat and go to the local park to clear your thought. Little did you know that when you were eating the food of your choice, your boyfriend was drowning in his troubles.

You certainly weren't expecting the stronger smell of alcochol when you opened the door to the hotel. There you spotted husk, head laying on the bar with a bootle of booze in his hand.

"Husker?" He jumped by the sudden noise, not hearing the door open. His eyes staring intently at your figure, head slowly going up.

"Darlinh?" he stuttered, slowly making his way to you. "where the fuck have you been for so long?" Before you could answer he interrupted once again your shocked figure.

"I'm so sorry.. " he slowly muttered your name. You hushed him comfortably, you weren't going to argue about his drunk state, at least not now..

You leaded him to your shared bedroom, while he muttered something about "his fault" and "alcohol". Making him lay down you sat next to him, pulling his larger figure into a hug.

"shh.. I know, I know.."

(a/n) - I know it's short, but I had a break from writing for a while and need a little warm up so I apologize!!