#so he definitely goes with the flow

[tobethemselves]

I’d love to know why Louis is ONCE AGAUN forced to stunt! WTF! Why?!!!

I understand your frustration but this is sadly the reality for a lot of closeted people in the industry. And if you look at what happens in the US and so many other countries at the moment, I think it's really clear why Louis and Harry decide to stay in the closet for now, and stunting to appear straight is part of that.

And as much as a lot of us hate it, it's a big part of the industry in general too. Not only for queer people, a lot of stars use this for several different reasons, mostly to promote a project of theirs, stay relevant and create stories that will keep their names in the press.

Apart from that I don't really see Louis or Harry being forced to do it anymore. If they are stunting now, it's definitely something they agreed on. And that doesn't mean that it's their fault, it means I think they have more ability to have a say in things since they started their solo careers.

If you want to read more about why so many stars including HL do stunts you can look through my hashtags PR STUNTS, LOUIS' CAREER and MUSIC INDUSTRY. And I also recommend reading these posts here and here.

@daisiesonafield-blog has a lot of information on her blog too, it's very organized if you go there on web.

[stellarsightz]

🌠wip whenever🌠

Tagged by the lovely @priafey 🫶 thank you for the tag and sorry for replying so late hahah

I think my cicerlyn hyperfixation is starting to leave me, but i keep thinking about them all the time lol. Enjoy a handful of snippets i particularly like that i found in my notes app

Tagging: @azures-grace @cicerosfavouritelistener @abstractredd @vestigme @rustyram035 @v1ctory-or-sovngarde + anyone who wants to join <333

1a.

Fire and smoke. Long wooden beams snapped in half, crumbling to the ground. Lynwallyn gritted his teeth and dragged himself up, fighting off the sweet lull of unconsciousness as it threatened to claim him. He couldn't afford to pause.

He dragged himself out of the rubble, barely stopping to inspect his injuries. He wrenched a sword out of the nearest corpse. He snagged a pile of clothes he found in what he assumed were the barracks. He took anything his bruised and charred arms could carry. He left and didn't look back.

Days blurred. He found an abandoned shack in the middle of a forest. He used the bedroll, took everything he could and left.

Rinse and repeat.

He slept through most of the day. At night, he prowled the forest and searched for unsuspecting prey. He let himself get lost in the hunt, savouring the feeling of warm blood running down his hands. A few stray dogs tailed after him as he walked back to his camp, licking their teeth and eyeing the mangled corpse of the poor animal he just caught. He snarled at them and watched with satisfaction as they whimpered and scuttled away.

He took what remained of his meal to his hideout and skinned it, slicing it into smaller parts and making what passed as a meal for the next day.

He was gone as soon as the sun rose. He soon found a small village, River something. He sold the few pelts he got from the animals he caught. He ignored the curious, if not apprehensive, looks the locals cast his way.

He exchanged the stolen sword for a set of daggers at the local blacksmith, humming appreciatively as their familiar, comforting weight settled in his hands. His last stop was the general goods store where he purchased a single healing potion and some rations. He left without a word.

[Lynwallyn travels for a while]

1b.

Cicero whined for what must have been the fiftieth time, fists clenching and unclenching as he paced.

It wasn't fair! The cruel, awful farmer refused to help in spite of Cicero's pleading and begging. Oh yes, he had done lots and lots of pleading and begging, he had even offered coin! He had seen that look in the farmer's eyes when he produced his purse, gleaming and scheming. Trying not to show just how much he wanted to reach out and snatch it. And yet, he refused to even lift a finger. Anger coiled in Cicero's stomach, burning so bright it made his hands shake. He let out a strangled groan.

"Awful! How awful! Cicero and his poor, poor Mother are stuck! Oh, how will Mother get to her new home now?"

He spun on his heel, shaking a fist in the direction of where Loreius' house stood.  "That damn farmer is of no help! So are those stupid guards!"

1c.

The Mer stared at him with a strange expression. His brow creased, eyes flitting over Cicero's face. "You could have killed me. But you didn't. Why?"

Why didn't he indeed, Cicero pondered. He remembered his fingers tingling as he reached for his knives, but something stilled his hand. He still has no idea why.

"Cicero is just a poor, humble jester, he knew a beast such as you would look for something different to eat. Yes, yes, Cicero imagines he would not be very tasty," he lied smoothly, giving the other man a wide grin. The Mer laughed softly.

The rope fell around his ankles before Cicero could react. The Mer closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. Cicero yelped, wriggling, as he was lifted off the ground and slammed against the nearest tree.

The man's eyes were even more impressive up close, his gaze almost burning into his skin as he leaned forward. Appraising. Analysing. Hungry.

[rubyarerosies]

lowkeyartist!sukuna who makes videos in his room to post on his instagram. Most of it is just him making new tunes that would most definitely be sampled by an artist sooner or later, while some are covers.

But I think what people mostly know him for is the different lady - or ladies - they see in the background sleeping in his bed. His name on twitter grows hectic whenever they see the girls in the back in some of his videos, slamming and dragging his name. Regardless, he stays radio silent on it.

It’s not until a song that had used one of his vids for a sample went popular and he begrudgingly goes live on instagram for his first Q&A due to popular demand. The questions flood in when his fans realise it’s not bullshit and he actually is there to talk with them.

And, like true Sukuna signature, there’s a mystery lady in his sheets behind him. The live notices immediately when he shifts a little to the edge giving them a glimpse of you, almost like he wants them to see.

“Does it wobble? Don’t make me end this live,” he says sternly, trying to subtly read questions that aren’t about you behind him in the chat. He finds it funny how the whole internet has been in an uproar this past year due to your constant impulse on making your hair look different every other month - different girls, like he’d ever, the thought makes him scoff.

“Why do you bring over so many girls? what do you mean? It’s just one,” he teases, his head turning over his shoulder to peek at you - yep, still sleeping.

His taunts to the questions have everyone on edge, and you’re just peacefully in dreamland. His scowl deepens when he sees many people question his honesty on the last answer, so he finally breaks and he reveals the long awaited truth.

“It’s just one girl because it’s my fiancé, we’ve been together since I started this shit,” he leans back in his chair, relief flowing through his veins now that everyone knows, “why does she look different all the time? My girl’s just impulsive.”

[psuejo]

❥ ceo!nanami who was never really into porn, not until you

sequel!

it’s not that he’s some raging virgin who’s never watched it. he’s a man — of course he has. but something about a lot of the videos rubs him the wrong way. maybe they’re too fake or have weird titles or overused tropes, like there’s a disconnect, one most ignore.

but for kento, it’s a complete turn-off. so, he doesn’t watch it, just uses his imagination and fucks his fist the traditional way. #realman!

that is, until he stumbles upon a clip of you reposted to twitter. no face, but that’s fine — he can see all that he needs to see: your trembling hand grips the flared base, flesh-toned dildo pumping in and out of your slick cunt.

your moans are soft, sweet, like you’re a little camera-shy, despite the steady flow of donations and the rapid-fire messages flooding the on-screen chat. they love you.

hell, he loves you, too.

for three nights straight, kento jerks off to that one minute clip, the black of his pupils practically engulfing the chocolate brown of his eyes as he watches you cum again, thick thighs squeezing together as you shudder and gasp.

tonight, though, he’s determined to attend one of your streams, glass of wine on his nightstand along with a bottle of lube.

god, he feels like a hormonal teenager again. he hasn’t jerked off this much in months, too swamped with work and other responsibilities to even allow himself a modicum of free time.

now, however? now kento is at it again, saliva pooling in his mouth as he watches you twist and writhe thanks to his generous donation while he pumps his rock-hard cock.

☆ $150 dono from @anonworkaholic: buy a new air fryer.

that vibrator is on max, the buzz loud enough to be caught clearly on camera along with the barely subtle squelches of your pussy, delicate folds glistening in the low, warm light of what he thinks is your bedroom.

kento is definitely above this — above donating money to a girl he doesn’t know, above furiously stroking his twitching, lubricated dick like some prepubescent, above being a part of the low-lives drooling over you in chat. he should stop. he should close the stream right now, finish rubbing one out in the shower, and then go to bed.

all that practically catapults itself out the window when you whimper out his weak username, a brief smile on your face before your maw goes slack again for another long moan.

no.

no, he is not above this, actually. he times his orgasm with yours, pearly whites sinking into his bottom lip as he tugs on that sensitive pink tip, waiting for your stuttered countdown to finish.

“o-one—!”

and when you cum, loud and wanton, back arching and pussy squirting, kento is right behind you, emptying his balls in stringy ropes of white all over his stomach.

...

nanami kento has hit a new low. he closes out the stream, ears burning and pink with shame, downs the rest of his wine, and takes a long, cold shower. he is never doing that again. ever.

but, a few nights later, he does it again. and again. anddd again, until, eventually, kento is deemed a vip regular, username now gold in chat with a special badge beside it.

this is the lowest of lows.

god, his employees and investors would kill him if they knew this is what he spent his excess money on a camgirl like some parasocial bum. especially his pretty little assistant.

now that he’s thinking about it, you and his assistant look alike. both gorgeous with similar face and body shapes, but not quite.

huh.

what a cruel coincidence, right?

[nikiluv]

vibes

or in which what turns riki on

you in his clothes

PROVIDER MINDSET RIKIII RAHHHH, he’s a big guy okay, tall, broad, and muscular, his clothes would definitely be big on you no doubt ( see what I did there 😉), he loves making sure that everything is comfortable and easy for you and what would be better than his oversized clothes also I think he’s somewhat possesive ?? in like a really subtle way, like it really and I mean really turns him on when there are subtle signs that you are his, since he can’t really show it off being an idol you know, so like you in his clothes gets him going because it’s a sure sign for him that, you are his and I’m just saying but the first time he saw you wearing his clothes….. boner alert ‼️

playing with his hair

he loves you so much that even a slight touch sends shivers down his spine in a good way, I think the area from his neck to his scalp is somewhat sensitive and like it can be really and I mean REALLY, stimulating and enjoyable if done correctly, and the feeling of your hands running through his hair and massaging his scalp, his blood just runs hot and rushes south

feeling loved

I know this seems dumb but HEY HES A LOVER BOY THROUGH AND THROUGH…. so like I mentioned earlier, he gets this really warm and fuzzy feeling when he can “feel” your love like through acts of service etc etc and like somehow that blood just flows all the way down south, like when you help him pick out his clothes, or like when you give him massage after long day, whew his hormones goes into overdrive

making out

cmon who doesn’t love a good make out session, I think riki loves the tension, the build up, the noises, the breathy whimpers and most of all your lips, he loves the feeling of your lips on him (he feels so seduced by your lips), he just loves the game of dominance with you, like the slight tugging of his hair, little nips here and there, sucking, the taste of you, it just gets him going, like a makeout session never fails to make him horny, and also have u seen his lips, SO KISSABLE and suckable (I’m tweaking, I need him so bad)

messed up make up

i think for him it’s just something about the smudged mascara and lip tint from the heated make out session that gets him going and main point is that he was the one that caused this, he was the one that made you look so delicious that he couldn’t help but devour you (in more ways than one if u get my hint 😏😏😏)

hickies

LIKE I MENTIONED !!! Possesive riki 🤤🤤🤤 like he wants to mark you UPPPP like he’s yours and you’re his, simple as that he also LOVES the process of giving you hickies, especially the sounds you make when he sucks on that one spot, when he sees the red and purple blooming on your skin, it feels like he “tainted” you with him

Thighs

My man’s a artiste and your thighs are his blank canvas, he just thinks that you are so soft and fluffy compared to him and the contrast is SO YUMMY to him, and like I mentioned earlier how hickies turns him on, this is related because he’s marking you up with bites, hickies and kisses on your thighs, ALSO thigh grabbing OH MY GAWDD he loves loves loves your thighs, like he’ll always be touching your thighs or caressing them always

Boobies

what can I say, he’s a straightforward guy, and which guy doesn’t like tits? Also LIKE I SAID, the contrast, it’s just so soft and like it doesn’t help his case that you make the most beautiful sound to him, he also loves to play with your boobs, it’s his emotional support toy, talking about playing with your boobs, never let him watch you bra-less it’s over for you when he does, he’ll immediately put his face into your tits and start playing with your nips until you are turned on, what can I say, those nips poking out turns him on

Whimpers

HE LOVES YOUR VOICE, he thinks it’s so soothing and when you stretch you make that lil sound, OO LALA, blood just rushes south for him, he thinks you make so much beautiful sounds and especially when you make those whimpers or nngh sound U GET IT (he doesn’t like exaggerated moans tho… who does…)

SIZE KINK SIZE KINKKK

I feel very passionate about this, HES A BIG GUY OKAY, I know I keep repeating this but it’s not because you are exactly small, just smaller than him and he feels this need to protect you and to use it to his advantage, and use it to his advantage he does, he manhandles you in the bedroom, but GENTLE MANHANDLING, that make you giggle, and maybe it’s a ego thing but when he’s like hovering over you and you seem so small in his eyes and just so precious he feels the need to protect you, also LIKE I SAID, he’s pretty big which brings me to my next point

Overstimulation / Dacryphillia

BEFORE ANYONE SAYS ANYTHING … HEAR ME OUT, I feel like I’ve said this before, but he gets really turned on with the sole fact that he is pleasuring you to the point of tears, LIKE DAMM HE’S THAT GOOD ??!!? There’s also the factor of him providing for you and meeting your needs which he is really proud of you, he HATES seeing you cry, but when you are crying out of pleasure, that’s a different situation altogether, especially when he’s overstimulating you and making sure you feel so much pleasure that the tears just come

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

A/n: sorry gang, I know I said I was gonna cook smth then dipped but it’s here LOL🙏, I honestly don’t know if ate…. I’m lowk lost towards the end but lmk how I did in my inbox 😏

[neoplatinum]

cowgirls do it better | sophia laforteza

synopsis: it's been 2 years. 2 years since your wife has ripped your heart out as she tried mending it. but now you're in her home court, to finalize the divorce. there's a couple things you need to learn about sophia's life before you leave.

pairing: (ex-ish) wife!sophia x cowgirl!reader

tags: angst, slow-burn, fluff, smut, g!p reader (don't like, don't read), alcohol, mentions of rehab, tension, marriage troubles, cheating but also not really cheating, slight religious themes, cowboys/cowgirls, a-list-celebrity!sophia, manon, more…

wc: 20.7k

"i'll be here waitin' ever so patiently, for you to snap out of it"

(part 1)

2 years later, lax, los angeles

“spare change?” 

it wasn’t how you imagined touching down in california. the casual mix of lavishness and poverty running like parallel lines through the city.

it’s not a pretty sight. 

you offer the man a couple bucks, hearing his praises of God and thanking you for your generosity. you give him a wave, leaving for your chauffeured ride. 

sophia had managed to send you a ride, with the cliché man dressed in a suit and sign with your name. the driver offers to take your duffel bags, dropping them into the trunk of his car. you hop into the car, a general feeling of restlessness running through your veins.

you swore that you would never step into this city. never let your path cross with hers again. she had her own life out here, and you had your own.

but of course, life has its own way. and you either try to fight against the current, or flow with it.

the ride was tedious at best, long traffic on the 5. sunny sunny california with people swarming. each with their own busy lives and even more complicated stories. you were just another story here, with a past that you were hoping to untangle here.

in an instant the buildings gave way to huge mountains. then you saw it, the large houses on the hills. grand spanish-style mansions, newly developed ultra modern ones with expansive windows. infinity pools on the cliffs. 

you definitely weren’t in your ranch back in new mexico. life moved differently here. you shift a bit in your seat, watching the city fly by in front of you. it's gorgeous, but you’d rather be here under different circumstances. 

the driver pulls into the ritz-carlton. definitely not the motel you booked for yourself. there’s a huge circle driveway with many nice cars parked out front for the valet. dark velvet carpets, almost welcoming you in like a star. you gave yourself a once over, the cowgirl attire wasn’t one that was common here. letting out a long sigh. you missed your idyllic life back at your ranch.

the driver drops off your bags onto a cart gently. he gives a slight nod of the head and soon a bellboy is immediately at your side. ready to push your stuff into the hotel. you’re getting money out of your wallet, when he pushes a hand out.

“ma’am, it’s been paid for. have a good rest of your day.” he leaves you and drives away.

fucking sophia. you curse her in your head. 

“of course she would do this”, you grumble to yourself, walking after the bellboy towards the receptionist’s desk. you can hear small conversations droned out by the large front lobby. there’s staff all around, ready at an instant to cater to any patron’s need. the bellboy continues to wheel the cart forward. the sound of your boots muffled by the velvet carpet.

and you arrive in front of the receptionist’s desk. several staff members rapidly typing on their computers. at the sight of you, a woman looks up, calling you up to the desk.

“good afternoon, i have a reservation.” you speak, grabbing your ID out of your wallet.

“oh perfect! we have you set up in the presidential suite.” the receptionist smiles at you, giving you a knowing look. she goes back to rapidly clicking and typing into her machine. 

“i’m sorry, do you know me?” you look a little lost.

“of course we do, miss laforteza informed us of your stay.” she offers a trained smile.

fucking sophia.

“right, of course…well, thank you.” you’re left a bit annoyed. 

who was she to dictate where you were going?

“here’s your room key and please feel free to call room service at any point. your tab has already been covered.” she explains, sliding over a small folder with your hotel keycard.

you offer an awkward smile to the receptionist before walking off to the elevators. your cowboy heels clack loudly against the waxed floor. 

you smooth out your hair for a second, already feeling annoyed that everything’s been paid for by sophia.

“may i see your card?” the bellboy askes you. you slide him your keycard, watching the way his eyes go wide at it.

he opens the large elevator and taps the keycard to head to the highest level of the hotel. and the elevator shoots up, rapidly climbing the tower where you can gaze out at the open city shrinking below you.

you admire the city for another couple of seconds when the elevator dings, and the doors open. 

you trail after the bellboy, entering the long hallway adorned with a gold and white floor. large oil paintings lining the walls, with individual lamps illuminating each one.

it’s starting to dawn on you that maybe you really don’t know sophia. you don’t know how she can afford this lavishness, enough to book you the presidential suite.

he opens the large doors to the suite for you, opening to the largest room you’ve ever stepped into. floor to ceiling windows peering over the city. a gorgeous large round table with a bouquet centerpiece. 

beautiful couches and sectionals just in the main area that you’ve walked into. you can spot at least three doors that must lead into their individual rooms.

“wow, i’ve never stepped in here.” the bellboy gives a whistle as he places your bags by the couches. he gives the room a once over before turning to you. “anything else i can help you with ma’am?”

“uh, no i’m all good.” you reply. and he’s starting to walk away, pushing the luggage cart. “wait! here, take this.” 

you hand him a 20, to which he smiles and happily pockets. closing the door behind him. 

and now you’re left in the presidential suite in a ritz-carlton.

you walk around, taking in the room, opening doors to more living rooms and bedrooms. a large california king with softer than silk duvets. the showers are humongous, enough to fit at least ten people inside. a beautiful vintage ceramic bathtub that is seated near the window. you eventually open to the balcony, a large infinity pool rushing with water. perfectly shaped hedges off to the side.

you can’t help but feel this is too much for you. this lavish suite is definitely worth more than your entire ranch and some.

you take off your boots by the door, getting situated in your suite. admiring the amount of closet space that’s available.

when you suddenly get a call.

“hello?” you prop the phone on your shoulder. trying your best to continue unpacking your duffel bags.

“hi! this is sarah from davidson & partners. i have you scheduled for a meeting at 1pm tomorrow, just calling to confirm.”

you roll your eyes, what a great way to get introduced to the state. 

“yes, i’ll be there.” 

“perfect, see you then!” and then she hangs up. 

you tuck your phone away, this was going to be a long trip. 

maybe you could take yourself sightseeing while you were here. trying to get the heavy feelings off your mind. 

trying to get a certain woman out of your mind.

you walk out the suite, ready to get out of this over-the -top suite when you hear a voice call out. 

“hey, neighbor!” a woman’s voice comes out light and inviting. you swivel your head to a gorgeous woman. dressed like she just stepped out of her nearest tailor shop. a gorgeous blazer and pencil skirt that fitted her perfectly.

you blink a bit before collecting yourself, walking up to her with a hand out.

“hi, nice to meet you.” you offer, she shakes your hand. warm and smooth fingers that slide into yours.

“i’m manon, have i seen you before?” she asks, presenting a charming smile, pearly white teeth and sharp eyes to pair.

“probably not, it’s my first time in california.” you reply, tucking your hand into your belt again.

“are you here to do touristy things? or would you like the inside scoop?” manon winks a bit, clearly amused by your out of state attire and look. 

you don’t miss how she’s given you at least two top to bottom scans.    

“i’m figuring it out…” you gesture aimlessly. then a thought runs through, “you recommend a place to enjoy some peace and quiet?”

“there’s an absolutely gorgeous beach not too far from here.” she grabs a quick paper from her hotel pad, jotting down the directions for you.

“thanks, manon.” you pocket the slip, “i’ll see you around.”

you give a quick wave, and she waves back too.

“buy me a drink sometime!” manon shouts before closing her hotel door.

you descend down the very fast elevator and are about to grab a ride when the valet walks up to you, keys in hand.

“hi! miss laforteza informed us you might need a car during your stay. here’s the car she requested.” he gives you a bright smile, dropping a pair of keys into your hands.

and you swivel your head to a cherry red vintage jeep wrangler. open chassis and red rims to match. 

jesus, she even remembered your dream car.

“i, thank you.” you wave the guy off and he heads back to his stand. your eyes drift to the car again, a clean exterior and interior. you give a little tire check with your boot and examine the engine.

it’s well maintained, clean oil and no sign of leaks.

she did her research, color you impressed. she even remembered the small details. your favorite scent of car freshener dangling by the mirror. you hop in the car, engine rumbling smoothly, it’s obvious this car had a good owner.

you pull off the lot and head to a beach. the wind in your hair and you can hear the seagulls cawing by the ocean. it’s a gorgeous sight, rays of sun peeking into the car. 

you gradually come to a parking spot, locking the car and tossing the keys in hand as you walk away. the beach is looking magnificent, there are some people playing beach volleyball and others still tanning. 

meanwhile, you’re in your cowgirl getup, a little too dressed for the occasion. peeling off your boots and rolling your pants far enough to keep them from getting wet.

you can feel the sand in between your toes. the sand warmed by the sun. and then you step forward, walking towards the ocean and pushing sand behind you.

the ocean is beautiful, gorgeous small waves crashing against the shore. leaving behind darker wet sand. you let the wave crash against your feet, cold ocean water as a contrast against the warm sand.

it’s definitely gorgeous out here, you can’t remember the last time you were by the ocean, maybe when you were a kid?

letting nature continue to move between your toes. water running around your legs and retreating back to the ocean.

then a dog runs past you, darting across the waters in front of you. tongue hanging out his mouth as he chases after a small rubber ball.

he catches it in his mouth and darts back to his owner. a kid no older than ten and cheering his dog on. you smile warmly at the scene unfolding. 

his dog barks loudly, awaiting another throw to which the young boy launches the ball forward.

“go, max!” you hear him shout, and the dog’s already leaped into the air, mouth open as he grabs snatches it out the air. the young boy rejoices when the dog turns around.

it reminds you of charlie, his beautiful eyes staring at you whenever you fill his bowl, or pet him right behind the ears.

maybe it’s slipped past you, maybe in this life you don’t get what you want.

instead you focus out, looking at the sun casting on the water, ripples that look like diamonds dancing on the surface. you can spot some yachts out far away, large cargo ships in the distance.

the water continues to splash against your legs, you feel at peace here. there’s nothing else but you and nature right now. 

you let your shoulders drop, the tension from having to come to california has weighed on your mind. you try to let yourself relax for a while, watching the ocean as it comes and goes.

--

“no lara, listen to me, it’s not like that.” sophia rambles on the phone, trying to grab a smoothie from her fridge.

“yeah, and how would you describe this? hollywood star sophia laforteza seen walking into davidson & partners. literally the best known divorce firm in all of california.” lara is mocking her, reading off a fake tmz headline. “maybe there’s a secret life sophia’s hiding?”

sophia rolls her eyes at the comment, “it’s going to be fine lara. i’ll be discreet.” sophia uncaps the smoothie, drinking it as her friend continues to express her worries.

“discreet isn’t exactly your style sophie.” lara laughs out. 

and sure she may be right, but sophia could be discreet, right?

“nuh uh, you’re probably trying to convince yourself you can be discreet. and the answer is no.

sophia’s jaw drops. “i can be discreet!” 

“you’re about as discreet as a peacock. now listen, what you need to do is meet her somewhere else. somewhere out the public eye.” lara shuffles a bit over the phone, and sophia sets her smoothie down.

“like where?” sophia’s waiting for a magical answer.

“somewhere like uh…what about her hotel?” lara lets it roll off her tongue and immediately sophia feels like a train crash.

“that is the worst idea i’ve heard yet. and you’ve convinced me to go to an award show hungover.” sophia laughs a bit.

“you booked the room, the chauffeur, and the car. i think you’re allowed to go inside.”

“she’s going to shoot me in between my eyes before i open the door.” sophia picks up the smoothie again, grimacing at the taste.

“no she wouldn’t! she married you.” lara explains.

“yeah, that was before she found out i had a fiancé.” sophia rolls her eyes again.

“well, pseudo-fiancé, maybe you could profess your undying love and make more babies, because this one is so darn cute!” lara coos at the toddler. “yes you are! yes you are!”

“lara please, she hates my guts, practically told me so when she ran out on me.” sophia laments. 

the feelings still burn like an open wound.

“so she hates you but you still kept her kid?” lara questions.

“i still love her, you know that.” sophia sighs out.

its quiet for a second.

“your mom is so dramatic isn’t she?” lara’s voice has gone up in pitch, playing with sophia’s kid. “yes she is! yes she is!”

sophia can hear her baby babbling and squealing in delight. “anyways, don’t meet her at the firm, paps are watching you like a hawk.”

“you don’t have to remind me.” sophia lets out with a sigh. 

there used to be a time where she could just exist, without worry of the public. but those days are long gone.

suddenly there’s rustling sounds and a loud wail from the speakers.

“uh oh, your baby just crapped her pants. say bye bye now!” sophia can hear the lara’s poor imitation just above her baby’s wails. “auntie lara signing off, go win her back!”

and then the line hangs up, sophia doesn’t even have time to say goodbye.

“fuck.” 

sophia throws her head in her hands.

--

“hello?” you’re half dressed, wearing shorts and a tank with your hair all over. still rubbing your eye as you try to sharpen enough.

“hi, good morning! it’s sarah from davidson’s, we spoke yesterday. mind if we come up? 

“huh? yeah sure, come on up.” you speak into the hotel phone. half drowsy when you look over and see 7 am flashing on the alarm clock.

you stumble a bit as you approach the door, hearing quick knocks against the door.

“coming, just one second!” 

you rush back to slide on some longer pants and head for the door, unlocking it to the sight of two very well dressed lawyers. both with polite smiles on their face.

“sorry to bother you so early, but it’s urgent.” the woman states and you let them in. 

immediately they place their briefcases on the table. taking out pens, recorders, legal pads and laptops.

behind them, two security guards walk in. they immediately begin scanning the suite. large devices that are moving up and down the rooms. they approach each window and immediately pull the blinds, covering the outside light from coming in. 

it’s like the secret service securing the west wing.

“hey, what are they doing here?” you ask, still yawning a bit.

“that’s our intel security team, we need to ensure this space isn’t tapped since we’re away from our firm. it’s standard protocol.” sarah is very direct, the smile disappears off her face as she sips on her coffee.

her counterpart is rapidly typing on his laptop, flipping through binders like a madman, but with precision behind each move.

“is this really necessary? it’s just me here.” you ask, a little perturbed at the intrusion.

“have you heard of brad and angelina, or bill and melinda? well those clients pay us, pardon my language, a shit ton of money to keep their divorces private.” sarah continues, not missing a beat as she types on her own laptop.

“it’s in our and your best interest that we follow procedures.”

“right…sorry for the offense ma’am.” you offer back.

“none taken. just doing our jobs.” she continues to drink her coffee. and suddenly the door is closed behind you, gone are the two mysterious men that stepped in.

“john, intel team left, place is clean, put that in the notes.” sarah speaks to the other lawyer, rapid typing ensuing.

“i thought we were meeting at the firm?” you ask, letting your arms hang on the back of a chair.

sarah looks away from her screen.

“mrs. laforteza requested to move up the meeting and in a discreet location, so we’re here to set up in time for her arrival.”

“here? as in this room?” you ask, the shock making you stand up taller.

“yes, this room. she’ll be here in…” sarah looks down at her watch, “15 minutes, well 14 now.”

“15 minutes?” you’re wide eyed and stunned, rushing off to the bathroom. trying to freshen up before seeing sophia again. 

you can feel your heart hammering as you brush your teeth. memories flowing through you as you wash your face. you try to calm your clammy and shaky hands.

you can still hear the hushed whispers from the lawyers, 

putting on a shirt over your head, you step out, still looking tired. but definitely more presentable than how you woke up.

you’re ready to drop your shoulders when there’s a sudden knock on the door.

shit.

you smooth your hair out once more and walk towards the door. giving a final breath and opening it.

the light from the windows illuminate sophia. she’s got a cap, sunglasses, dark clothes and no makeup in sight. 

she doesn’t look like the woman that broke your heart.

you gesture to her to walk in, not even able to greet her. she gives a nod when she walks in. immediately you smell the familiar scent of her perfume. you inhale the scent enough that make your heart beat quicker.

it pulls you in, like it always has. truthfully, you don’t know if you’ll ever be tired of the scent.

eyes on the ground as she walks away, trying not to show how affected you are. even without a single touch she has your insides all shaken up. 

you follow behind her, taking notice of her slow steps. like she’d rather just run out the door at a moment’s notice. 

sophia pulls a seat on the other side, dropping her purse lightly. your eyes watch her intently, like you’re tracking her. after some searching, she takes out a folder filled with documents, all tabbed with notes. you watch her separate them into piles, hand meticulous and deft.

sarah and her counterpart watch her as well.

sophia finally settles in her seat. and gives a nod to the lawyers.

“welcome to the first divorce settlement conference.” sarah starts, “we will begin recording…now.”

you watch her press a button on the recorder. the room’s feeling a bit too stuffy now. it’s really here, the dreaded divorce that you tried to put away, just like the stubborn feelings you had.

she gives you a quick glance, just enough to commit your face to memory now. your cheeks are more sunken and those dark circles spell trouble. 

in you, there’s a war against what you want and what you need. you listen to what you need. barely sparing sophia a glance, she doesn’t deserve it. in your head she didn’t deserve any of you, but in your heart…it still beat for her.

“now let’s get the structure of these meetings understood. we will be discussing property division, child support, and spousal support if applicable.” sarah continues.

“this is my colleague, who will be here for note-taking as well as shifting responsibilities as needed.”

you and sophia both give a firm nod.

“let’s start with property division. under page 2, section 5a.” sarah begins, flipping to a new section of her binder.

you both follow suit with your own copies. eyes reaching past all the legal jargon.

“the ranch in new mexico, measured at twenty acres. including livestock, house, and the barn.”

“that’s mine.” you speak up, and sophia snaps her eyes up to you, crossed arms that loosen at the sight of you.

she hasn’t heard your voice in all this time, a pained reminder of the last words you said, correction: shouted at her.

“mrs. laforteza?” sarah questions.

“that’s hers, and sophia, just sophia.” sophia replies.

“sophia, and thank you.” the lawyers are scribbling and typing in their laptops.

it’s strange how calm the room is. four people here to settle a divorce in the presidential suite of a ritz-carlton.

you grab a sip of water, watching sophia through your eye line. 

she’s a bit dazed, eyes that seem so lost. and maybe if you weren’t so heartbroken, you would offer some comfort.

“great, next is the large 1930s spanish-style mansion in the hollywood hills, measured at seven thousand square feet. 6 bedrooms, 8 bathrooms.” sarah continues.

your eyes nearly bulge out.

“that’s hers.” you speak up, coughing a bit as you clear your throat.

“sophia?”

“yes, that is mine.” sophia shifts her legs a bit.

you sink into your seat, this was going to be a long meeting. 

the hours continue, discussions of property grew to be extensive. you didn’t realize how much needed to be accounted for. 

as well as revealing how much money sophia had accumulated. the star was definitely well-paid. 

and you were slowly realizing how small you felt.

there was nothing comparable to the net worth of sophia laforteza. you once felt so confident and proud of your ranch, a safe haven for you both. but now you feel like maybe you weren’t a good enough provider.

maybe that’s why she left you.

you snap out of your spiral when the lawyers call for a break. giving time for a short walk and stretch. 

you do notice that sophia’s been unfocused. blank stares as the lawyers discuss among themselves.

“would anyone like room service?” you ask into the air. and the two lawyers walk over to you.

“coffee and a bagel with cream cheese please.” you scribble it down.

“would you like anything?” you turn to the other lawyer.

“also coffee, but i’ll have a muffin and apple.” you jot down their orders, and writing another line as you call room service.

room services picks up immediately at the first ring, a woman helping you get all the orders down with efficiency. 

sophia’s still in a daze, her hand slightly shaking in her lap.

you try not to notice it, especially given your now relationship with her. 

when room service arrives, you thank the server. offering a tip as he exits the room again. the lawyers are eager to have something in their stomach. 

you can imagine the hours are also taking a toll on them.

but your mind is focused on the other person in the room. you walk towards sophia with a bowl of fruit and yogurt and a glass of water in hand.

placing it down in front of her, causing her to focus again. a light gasp when she sees your face so close. 

“this is for you, i bet you haven’t had anything today.” you say softly.

it’s not supposed to mean anything, just a simple gesture. but to sophia, she feels like she could crumble.

sophia nods firmly, a bit too firmly. its like the words won’t come out her throat. like she isn’t still madly in love with you.

“excuse me for a second.” sophia makes a quick dash for the bathroom. and you watch her retreating body disappear behind the door.

both lawyers stare at the door as well, giving you a quick look before returning to their conversation.

what you don’t know is that sophia’s sobbing. crying into her mouth so she doesn’t let out a sound.

how could she ever act like she isn’t completely and utterly in love with you? how you still stir up feelings in her body that make her want to reach out to you?

how she had to give herself a ten minute pep talk in her car before stepping out.

God, she was a wreck. 

she gives herself a minute. just one. enough to pull herself together, broken sobs and pain shooting in her heart. 

you stand by the door, caught between wanting to knock and wanting to give her space.

“fia?” you ask. “you okay?”

you faintly hear it, a sob that’s trying to break out of her throat. 

“i’ll be-i’ll be out in a second!” she tries her best to sound normal. rapidly wiping tears off her face and giving herself a quick check in the mirror.

thank God for waterproof mascara. 

she looks presentable, just enough to cover the traces of her tears. with a shaky breath she moves for the door, opening it to you on the other side.

your worried eyes that look too warm, in her mind a flash of angry eyes hit her. it reminds her why she’s here. why you ran out on her with resentment in your eyes.

but you stand here, unmoving and looking into her. and she nearly breaks again, digging her nail into her thigh, trying to keep the tears at bay. long enough to get through this.

you want to ask her what’s wrong but she gives you a controlled smile. one that lets you know she doesn’t want to speak about it. and she doesn’t, instead she walks back to her chair. 

calmly sitting again and scooping yogurt into her mouth. you pull the chair next to her, resuming the silent war between both of your conflicting feelings.

the lawyers both return to their chairs. and offer each other a look when sarah speaks.

“thank you both for a productive meeting, we will meet again in two days.” 

sarah and her counterpart gather all their belongings again. tucked away neatly into their briefcases. both offering a handshake before leaving. 

you shake their hands and thank them for their time. watching them until they close the door behind them. 

then you’re left with sophia. 

you’re left with sophia.

you turn towards her, watching her pack her purse with all the documents she had laid out. she’s in a slight hurry, you can tell by the frazzled eyes and jittery hands. 

she also realizes that she’s left with you.

you stand off to the side, silently watching her. she then shifts back, pushing the chair in and she then tries walking out.

you feel yourself panic, something unsettling erupting in your stomach. 

“thanks for everything. you know, the hotel, the car, everything.” you speak quickly. “you didn’t have to.”

“you’re welcome. it’s really no problem.” sophia’s voice is shaky. 

she waits a beat. 

“it’s nice. to see you, i mean.”

and without another word she walks out the door, closing the door behind her.

you sink into yourself, feeling yourself cringe at the comment. you felt so stupid speaking up.

--

“so spill, how was it?” lara lounges on sophia’s couch, sparkly eyes as she’s trying to pry. 

sophia gives a sigh before joining her on the couch.

“it was…amicable.” sophia didn’t want to talk about how she broke down crying in your bathroom. how you reminded her of her wedding day. 

she’d rather shove all those feelings down.

instead sophia recounts, you looked familiar. too skinny in her mind. you definitely lost weight, she had hoped it wasn’t because of her.

“amicable? your wife hates your guts and she’s amicable!” lara exclaims. 

“it’s not like a movie, you know? we may be actresses but that’s not her.” sophia continues to explain.

“what about you? i bet you were shaking like a chihuahua.” lara spoke.

“i was not! i was very professional.” sophia exclaims. “she was too.”

lara groans, “that’s not fun!”

“divorce settlements aren’t meant to be fun.” sophia explains.

“not as fun as you, right?” lara lifts anna into the air, the baby squealing loudly.

“hand her to me.” sophia opens her arms, and then the baby is propped in her lap. “i saw your mama today, she’s still very pretty.”

the baby babbles a bit, “mama.”

“yes, your mama. she’s lost some weight.” sophia says gently, rocking her toddler slowly. “i’ll have to make her some sinigang.”

anna claps her hands together in excitement.

“okay, this is really sweet, but you’re making me sad.” lara speaks up, and sure sophia’s thought about it. “and i don’t get sad, so go make up with her.”

“i can’t. and you know why.” 

“fuck him! he doesn’t get to dictate your life just because his daddy’s got a big name.” lara scoffs, grabbing anna again.

sophia shakes her head. in an ideal world thomas never existed, or any kind of person like thomas. 

in her ideal life she had you, anna, and grew together. maybe had a couple anna’s with you.

but she’s dug herself in this hole, and she needs to dig herself out.

--

“mrs. laforteza, hey, it’s good to hear from you.” you dig a stick a little further in the sand. 

you stare into the sand, drawing small circles. 

“hi dear, how are you?” mrs. laforteza’s warm voice comes through the phone. 

it’s comforting. she’s like a second mom. you basically grew up in her house.

eating dinner with her, cleaning dishes, helping mr. laforteza with ranch work. it felt like you were always meant to be in this family.

“it went okay…” you drag out, thinking about your stay here. 

the divorce settlement meeting was tense, and its driven you away from the hotel. the room feeling suffocating despite how big it was. you keep feeling this unsettling feeling that something’s wrong.

something’s wrong and you don’t know how to fix it.

so instead, you’ve been spending many hours outside, enjoying the summer sun. trying to find peace with life as it is, especially with the divorce coming.

“just okay? you don’t sound like someone who is okay.” she speaks.

you can hear charlie’s pants through the speakers.

“i’ll be alright, it’s really nice out here.” you look out to the ocean, squinting as you look at the rays of light. “i get why she came out here.”

“i’m sure.” 

mrs. laforteza has always been sweet, trying to be as gentle as she can. knowing that her daughter has broken your heart. “she’s trying to fly us out soon.”

“yeah you both would really like it here.”

maybe a part of you is stuck, stuck waiting for some big reveal that sophia didn’t mean to crack your heart.

you tried moving on. all the worries, pain and anguish slowly dying within you. but some days the feelings overwhelm you, and it’s like you’re back at square one.

“listen dear, you’ll always be a daughter to us, married or not.” mrs. laforteza continues and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. “never forget that.”

you nod but then realize how she wouldn’t see that. 

“of course ma’am, thank you for always being there.”

“oh honey, we’ll always be here.” 

you hear charlie's yips as he chases after a ball that sophia’s dad is throwing.

“you think she meant it?” you ask into the open air.

“meant what, dear?”

“you think she meant to break my heart?” you feel like retracting the question as soon as it came out of your mouth. 

who in their right mind asks their mother-in-law this?

“i don’t think she meant to. i think she wanted to save what she could, and your heart paid the price.” you listen to the faint noise of a rocking chair as she continues.

“sometimes, i wish she never liked me back.” you say it and truly you don’t mean it. 

but it stings a little less to imagine a world where you weren’t as foolishly in love.

“honey, that girl loved you the second she laid eyes on you.” mrs. laforteza laughs out loud.

“when i saved her from those coyotes?” you let out a choked laugh at the memory.

“she came running back the ranch, screaming her head off about how you protected her and looked so cool.”

you wipe a tear from your eye. 

“what else did she say?”

“she told me she was going to marry you someday. swore on the Bible she would.” 

you still your movement. 

“did she?” you ask, your heart is blossoming in that way that your brain hates. hates how she still had you wrapped around her finger.

“sure did.”

you let the silence hang in the air. listening to seagulls and soft waves crashing against the shore. trying to think about your next steps, what life would mean for you once you’re really divorced.

suddenly a voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“hey, neighbor!” a familiar light voice comes through, you tilt your head just enough to see her. large glasses and a beach shawl covering a bikini set. she looks ready to enjoy the beach. you give a light wave to her, as she sits next to you. a large grin on her face.

“hey, it’s good to see you.” you offer, and she nods a bit, watching you, observing the way the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“i would say the same, but you seem a bit…what’s the word? sulky?” manon shrugs, a bit of amusement in her face as she watches you lean back in shock.

“i am not sulky!” you exclaim, hand on your heart like you’re clutching a pearl necklace.

“then what is this?” she points at your six pack of beer, a couple already popped open and empty, grabbing one to open.

“this is…leisure…” you gesture to the space around you. she gives you that look, the kind of look your friend gives you when they know you’re full of shit.

“you’re not convincing anyone with those eyes.” she points out, taking a sip of beer with you, a slight grimace at the taste. 

“what about my eyes?” you take another swig, looking back onto the shoreline, watching someone swim out.

“sad, like you have a thousand yard stare kind of sad.” she laughs to herself as she explains it. 

and really if you had to guess, maybe you do given everythings that’s been happening to you.

“i’m just…dealing with a lot.” you explain, she takes another sip of her beer, despite the taste.

“yeah? tell me about me.” she urges you on, nudging your shoulder a bit. and really life has been so down, you’re more than compelled to spill your secrets out.

“the reason i'm here,” you gesture at the area around you. “is because my wife is divorcing me. i’m here to settle the divorce.” 

and clearly that wasn’t the response manon was expecting. she’s taken aback, slowly digesting and trying to find the words to comfort you.

“wow, that’s a lot. yeah i don’t blame you for doing this.” she comments, trying her best to lend an ear. you give her a nod, thanking her just for the company. 

it’s nice to have someone who knows nothing about her past, a clean slate.

“is it her fault?” manon asks you, genuine interest in her eyes.

“i think so.” you offer. manon doesn’t press further, eyes also watching the ocean, sitting quietly together and admiring the sunset.

“well, to a clean and quick divorce!” manon lifts her glass, you lift yours too. making a light clinking sound as you both sit in silence once more.

--

this was not how sophia wanted to start her morning.

“sophia! my lovely fiancé! to what do i owe the pleasure?” his slimy voice coming through the speakers.

sophia’s already burning. a hot heat of anger spreading through her nervous system. 

a reaction to the sickly headlines funneling out of drama journals and anyone that cared remotely about sophia’s career.

“thomas. getting caught in ibiza with supermodels?” sophia bites out, her manager sitting beside her. tablet in hand as they scroll through the damning evidence.

“easy tiger…i was just celebrating my birthday. you know how those weekends go.” sophia can hear his cockiness through the phone. “which, by the way, you should’ve posted about, it’s pr 101.”

sophia wants to scream. she has not worked this hard in her career to be seen as anything less than a star in her own right.

this man is going to drag her reputation down with his.

“happy belated…but learn to cover your bases, asshole.” 

“stop acting like my mother.” his voice turns into that disgusting condescending tone. 

the one he puts on when he thinks he’s better than you. 

“more importantly, how’s the divorce settlement going?”

it grates against sophia’s ears. 

“it’s going well, don’t get into my business.” sophia scoffs.

“well, then don’t get into mine.” he retorts back. 

sophia continues to try to not curse him out. her manager looking at her in worry, all sophia can do is try to think about happy thoughts.

happy thoughts about anna or you.

he coughs a bit.

“you better attend my dad’s birthday gala next weekend.” 

she thinks about it, thinks about how she’d rather be at home with anna. but duty calls.

“fine. send over the details.”

he hangs up, sending an address and time. and sophia’s losing her mind all over again.

shouting at no one in particular about how much of a jackass thomas is. how his incessant need for the party lifestyle is going to ruin sophia’s life.

she needs a way out, and she needs it soon.

--

this wasn’t how sophia wanted to plan her evening. she wanted to be at home, a glass of wine in hand as she watches some silly tv show for the fiftieth time.

she’d play with anna and lounge outside the backyard. or have a lazy night swim.

but here she is in her long cocktail dress, a jacket adorned with pearls to match. it’s enough to stay afloat at the party, enough to be noticed, but also not stand out. 

with all the old executives and their much-too-young trophy wives on display, sophia wants to leave.

thomas has already turned on his flashy smiles at his dad’s friends. each of them giving respectable nods, just enough to acknowledge him, but not enough to respect him.

he tried parading sophia around, introducing her as his fiancé, to which many seemed disinterested. some women even looked at her in pity, but she held her head high enough.

luckily she spotted lara not too far away.

“oh thank god you’re here, these people are so boring.” lara starts, giving everyone an evil eye before smiling at sophia.

sophia feels exactly the same.

“i hate going to these. no one cares anyways.” sophia continues, and honestly her life has been feeling like that lately.

she’s still a very high profile star, but with the status comes having to attend these more than necessary events. to mingle and be amongst those that run the industry, it gets boring to a point.

“how’s anna?” lara asks, softly tilting her champagne flute around. 

that lights up sophia’s eyes.

“so cute, the babysitter just sent this photo.” and sophia shows the young toddler, sound asleep and tucked into her bed. with her mouth hanging slightly open.

“aw that munchkin, she’s so adorable.” lara coos at the photo.

“i know, yesterday she was trying to open all the kitchen cabinets.” sophia shows another photo of the young girl, wide eyed and caught by sophia’s camera.

sophia reminisces on the photos, scrolling to one that made her heart clench. 

it was a picture of a frayed photo of you and sophia, much younger and much stupider.

silly marks on each other’s faces and stickers all over your shirt. sophia’s wearing your cowboy hat and you’re wearing the pair of boots she gifted you. both seated on mr. laforteza’s truck bed.

lara gives a quick look at sophia, watching the way she pauses herself. admiring memories of her youth that she left behind.

lara looks a little closer.

“anna has her eyes.” lara points her finger down, “the way she scrunches them with her smiles. it’s just like hers.”

“really? i never noticed that.” sophia zooms in on you, the way you smile so hard that your eyes disappear. 

anna does the same whenever she’s finished with her food, or accidentally knocks over a cup of milk.

sophia feels like she could throw up at the fact. 

she’s been trying so hard to keep the memories of you alive in anna’s life. showing her old photos that she stole from the ranch house. reminding her of her other parent.

enough to make anna realize that you are indeed her mama. and sometimes sophia thinks she can recognize you, or maybe she’s just repeating the words back.

when really you always existed in anna.

“i think you should tell her about anna.” it’s not accusatory or said without knowing the context between you two. 

lara had been the first friend sophia made when coming to california. two girls with dreams in their heads and hopes in their hearts. to “make it” out here in hollywood. discussing their dreams and deepest fears of what makes them human. bonding over that shared desire for greater.

so really, lara understood her. understood how the fear of rejection from you would break sophia all over again. 

she saw it firsthand when sophia returned to california. she wasn’t the same, barely was able to pull herself long enough to go outside. 

and when sophia first got her morning sickness, lara was the one waiting in the bathroom with her. waiting for the pregnancy tests together.

“i want‐i want to. but i’m scared. i’m scared she’ll realize that she wants nothing to do with me or anna.” 

sophia speaks truthfully, it broke everything in her when you told her to leave. she had never seen you so angry and upset, like a caged deer, trying so hard to escape. 

she couldn't bear to hear how you don’t want her anymore. her heart would crack open again.

and what if you didn’t want to be involved in anna’s life?

“but what if she did? anna deserves a chance to know her.” lara continues, a sad warm smile on her face. “they both deserve the chance to be in each other’s life.”

it’s not like sophia hadn’t contemplated this before. each prenatal visit making her cry all over again. the ultrasounds, the first heartbeat, even the delivery.

she wished you would just burst through the doors, rushed comments about traffic running late and hold her hand as she went through this scary pregnancy. comforting words and soft affection as she went through the trimesters.

she wouldn’t trade anything for anna. she just wish you were here to experience it with her.

lara lets the topic go, it’s hard to see her closest friend so caught in between worlds. so much of her life she sacrificed and only to be left unsatisfied. it’s heartbreaking, and she hopes sophia will get her happiness back.

to much of the dismay of sophia, thomas’s father began speaking. welcoming all the guests through loudspeakers in his mansion. attracting the attention of all guests, but sophia’s heard this speech at every previous party before. how he owes all his accomplishments to a very special mentor of his. and then he gives that short anecdote about being a young and bright-eyed filmmaker. hoping to get his projects out into the world.

with a slight tug of her arm, lara pulls her away from the crowd, all entranced by the story.

“he’ll probably go on for another hour, come on, let’s go see if there’s some good liquor.” lara smirks. dragging sophia away from the main room, soon they’re walking across marbled flooring. large doors leading into the big pool out back, fountains pouring into the pool.

lara eventually pulls them into a large room. large dark oak bookshelves lining the back wall. each filled with hard covered books lining each shelve. a single lamp illuminating the room. large arabian carpets covering the floor. a heavy wooden desk sat close to the bookshelves. a fit study room for a world-renowned director.

“this camera probably costs more than a house.” lara points out the giant standing camera in the other corner of the room, and sophia would agree. 

it drives her insane how much of thomas’ life was just handed to him, the opulence, the trust fund, all of it simply because he was born into the family. sometimes sophia wished thomas never existed. didn’t use his unlimited power for evil, to manipulate and control the weak.

“shit, sophia. come look at this.” sophia walks towards lara, finding her looking at an open drawer, a manila folder already opened on the table. “S.L.” in bold letters stamped on the front.

images spill out from the manila folder, each one from different events that sophia has attended. either red carpets or pictures from her acting. it’s haunting, it’s like she’s being watched. 

and then it gets worse. 

there’s photos of her child, anna running around in sophia’s backyard. photos of sophia lifting her kid in the air and spinning her around. it makes sophia sick to her stomach. 

“lara, lara…” sophia turns to lara with tears in her eyes, shock making her ears pop and tinnitus ringing. her blood has run cold and so has her body, a slight shaking as she steps away from the table, away from the contents of her private life being captured.

“sophia, it’s okay, come on focus on me.” lara’s trying to stabilize a very lost sophia, her eyes keep darting everywhere. there’s thoughts flowing faster than water down an edge of a cliff.

“he knows. he knows anna.” sophia can feel her breath getting shorter, it’s harder to breath in deeper without feeling like she’ll hyperventilate. and lara’s trying her best to calm her down. but fuck if this isn’t a slap in the face.

she tried so hard to protect anna, going as far as to disappear to give birth. not even letting thomas near her or to see her. it was her way of protecting anna and protecting you.

“what else is in there? i bet that jackass has other dirt on me.” sophia asks through harder breaths. the sudden shock and stress is constricting her airways. 

lara’s searching through the folder, eventually dumping it all out on the table. and out flys two contracts.

“it’s your acting contract.” lara’s quickly reading through it, familiar clauses from her very own. the clauses of work, management, pr image, conditions of pay. all of it laid out and then lara lands on a tab. highlighted in orange and circled in red pen. conditions of pr image and the ability for the company to manage sophia’s pr image if it were to slip into a scandal. and possible pr management rights reserved for the company. 

“hold on…” lara flips through the rest of the contract, finding nothing else out of the ordinary. “something’s not right.”

sophia’s holding onto the edge of the hardwood desk, trying to count to four in her head during each breath, slowly bringing down her heart rate. she can barely hear lara through the ringing. 

“did you know about this?” lara looks at sophia, another contract in hand. 

“what?” sophia barely gets out, straightening herself when lara is breezing through the contract.

“it’s thomas. the trust. the inheritance. all of it.” lara continues to read through the pages, eyes moving left and right. “sophia. his father’s trust! the marriage, it’s all for inheritance.” 

lara turns the page over to sophia, and even with her half breaths she can see the clauses: public-facing equal, married by 30 years of age, inheritance. 

all of it is slowly piecing together. the urgency for the divorce, the sudden interest in sophia’s career. the manipulation and coercion of marriage was all to guarantee the inheritance of his father’s net worth. eventually he would secure his position to acquire his father’s businesses. 

how could sophia be so stupid?

all because of a stupid clause that sophia signed when she was still a bright-eyed actress hoping to land her first big role in hollywood. only because she didn’t hire a lawyer to read the fine print of all the clauses in her contract. 

it had cost her autonomy and the disrepair of her relationship with you. and if sophia had to guess, he was going to drag anna into it too. some sick leverage to get this marriage on the fast-track to secure his position.

all because she signed to a slimy acting agency run by thomas’ father. and all because thomas got his hands on her acting contract.

“i’m going to strangle him lara.” sophia gets out her phone, taking photos of the contract. every single photo or page in the manila folder all documented now in her phone.

“sophie, let’s be smart about this okay?” lara starts, already taking photos of her own as a backup. “we need a way out, we have to do this smart and quick.” 

sophia nods.

“you have dirt on him right now, this contract, the coercion of marriage, his scandals. you know all about it.”

lara continues, thinking about how to use this to their advantage.

sophia continues to read over the inheritance, all of it is so obvious, thomas is after his dad’s assets. in an attempt to secure his position over his brother. he’s using sophia as a chess piece for his plan to take over. a coup.

“leak it.”

lara speaks up suddenly. her eyes are deep in thought, she keeps flipping through all the evidence. “leak it anonymously.”

“what?” sophia stops, confusion in her eyes as she looks at lara.

“make it an exposé, if his dad found out that thomas never went to rehab. and spent his money partying. dragging one of the biggest stars of hollywood into a coercive marriage. that would spell the end for thomas moore. he’d never be let out of his dad’s grasp again.”

lara begins texting people in her phone, a plan to drop pieces of evidence all over the next couple of days. a sudden exposé piece would send thomas into hiding. 

“what if it backfires, lara? i can’t lose her or anna.” sophia panics, still worried about how this will all blow up in her face.

“we have a way out.” lara is confident, a large smile on her face, even if it was the last thing she could do, she would help sophia no matter what. “he’s tormented you for years sophie, the manipulation, the controlling. he took you away from her. he did this.” 

lara points at the pictures, the acting contract.

“we’re going to make him suffer. you tell me to leak it and i’ll spread it like wildfire, okay sophie?”

sophia nods firmly, and breathes out for the first time. a breath of relief.

a breath of freedom.

--

you’re dressed more properly today, in a way it’s to not feel so awful all the time. the long walks along the beach have been helping keep your feelings in tact.

it’s been several divorce settlement meetings and you’ve been realizing just how complex sophia’s life is. between all the assets and bank accounts, and royalties from her acting career. 

you’ve been feeling conflicted, a lost sense of what it means to be a partner to her. or at least what it meant before. 

you weren’t there when she made these accomplishments and you can’t understand why you still want to be in her life. 

it’s a feeling that’s haunted you since the moment she disappeared from your life. maybe there’s something you lacked for her to turn to someone else.

maybe you pushed her into the arms of that man.

sometimes you dream about him, about him burning your ranch down. or standing outside your ranch watching you as you work. his nasty grin on full display. 

you usually wake up in cold sweat and reach out for sophia, trying to protect her. but she’s never there. and reality sinks in all over again.

there were days you could barely get out to do the daily chores, sluggish movement as you tried mending your broken heart a second time. 

it’s no use though, you were used and replaced by someone who probably had more wealth than you could imagine.

so you sit a little clouded by your own thoughts, going through these meetings as robotically as possible.

limiting as much as you could, to remove the emotions out of these meetings. you need this divorce to be done, to never return or hear of sophia again.

sophia wasn’t coping much better, after learning about thomas’ motives to move forward with this divorce. it’s been hard for her to focus at the task at hand. 

just yesterday she burned her hand trying to cook breakfast for her and anna. it reminded her how much of her life was in pain. the controlled aspect of her public image made her want to vomit.

and she’s sat beside you, both of you trying to answer the mediators questions. a hurdle that both of you are struggling with. 

throughout the questioning, at multiple times, the lawyers have asked for a break to reconvene with more focus. 

all it has done is caused more stilled awkwardness between you and sophia. silently sitting together, but unable to look at each other.

it feels like detention, that you both were “willingly” sat in.

and then suddenly, like a glass falling off a countertop, sarah begins again.

“let’s discuss custody and visitation rights…” sarah reads out to the pair. 

her counterpart taking a sip of his cold coffee, a displeased frown on his face.

“on page six, the primary custodial rights of the minor child, would still be under miss laforteza’s legal guardianship until the child reaches 18 years old. in which they are legally an adult. currently, with non-disclosure terms applying to the identity of the other parent…” sarah continues reading down the page.

sophia eyes sharpen again.

“i’m sorry–what did you say?” you snap out of your haze. 

“wait–sarah, wait…what?” sophia stands up straighter, hand immediately reaching out for the paper, rapidly flying to page six. eyes furious as she searches for the words.

“whose child?” you ask sarah, also grabbing onto the paper again.

what the hell?

“this wasn’t…this wasn’t in the draft i sent in.” sophia drops the paper back down. it’s there, in the fine print of the divorce papers. 

“you have a child?” the way you ask is chilly, like you’ve audibly flinched back. electrified adrenaline shooting through you.

“give us a minute…” the lawyers both quickly review their materials. rapid typing from sarah’s counterpart and sarah looks confused as well, rereading the section that she just read aloud.

sophia’s voice is stuck in her throat, a sound coming out but it cracks in the end. she watches you scoot back, chair moving along with you.

“i was–i promise i was going to tell you about her, i was going to–” sophia reaches out, hand trying to grab yours. 

but you flinch back, hand flying behind you, shock and the slow rise of anger coming back.

the exact anger you felt when you found out about thomas.

“fuck. you–you always do this sophia. you always fucking do this.” you step back, chair hitting the marbled floor. 

and both lawyers stand up. immediately packing their stuff up. 

“you never tell me what’s going on. seriously a child? a fucking child?”

sophia gets up out of her seat. 

“is it even mine?” you bite out angrily, a suddenly thought making its sickly appearance. you couldn’t stand the idea that sophia would have anyone else’s kid. 

“don't do that! of course she’s yours. i’m not some–it’s yours okay.” the pain is sharp in your heart. you hate that you’re always the last to hear about anything. 

so a small part of you wants to hurt back. how you want her to feel an ounce of your pain.

“how are you so sure it’s mine?” the pain’s making you say things you would never say to sophia. “it could be your fiancé’s, you know?”

sophia’s hand flies out, slapping you across the face. angry tears at the accusation. the sound echoing against the walls. 

your head stays stuck, realizing how much the words hurt her, but really they hurt you too.

“i would never. never! never raise that bastard’s child.” sophia says it with finality. the kind that shuts you up and lets you know not to press further. “so don’t you dare insinuate…”

the lawyers are quick to leave, sending sophia a look that expresses that they’ll talk later. 

you’re glad because you’d rather have this conversation in private.

you finally sit back down, pulling the fallen chair up. and with that, sophia sits down too. 

both of you facing each other for the first time in a long time. but she can’t hold your gaze, repeatedly looking away to hide the anguish that’s creeping up.

she’s trying to wipe away her tears, not wanting to show how your words tore through her. and you’ve sunken into the chair, the exhaustion released from your shoulders.

it smacks you again, the reality of your life.

“we have a daughter?” you ask, feeling the anger being drowned out by the fact that you have a kid now.

“we do.” sophia cries a bit, this wasn’t how she wanted to introduce anna to you. and she certainly didn’t plan it either.

sophia could only think of one person who would try and ruin her like this. the same man that tormented her life, forced her to get this divorce. pulled her abruptly from you, only to carry your child all alone.

both of you continue to sit, waiting for the other to speak up. and it’s killer, the silence that’s waiting.

so you speak up first.

“is she healthy? i know my dad had some issues when he was a kid. and my mom too–” you begin to ramble, spilling all your worries.

“she’s healthy, don’t worry.” and sophia cracks a small smile when you do too. 

“that’s really good, yeah that’s good. um…can i see her?” 

you ask, realizing all that you ever wanted with sophia was actualized, not just a dream that you kept to yourself. in the most sick way, you now have a child.

its not the full dream of having a big family with sophia, but you have a daughter.

more specifically, you have a daughter with sophia. 

with tears in her eyes, sophia agrees to have you come over. to see the young toddler that had your eyes and sophia’s temperament. 

you felt like a part of you had returned, some part of you wasn’t a complete fuckup of your own life.

and sophia spent hours, talking about anna. every detail she thought she could share, she did. how much she enjoyed eating grapes and would scream at the top of her lungs for fun. sophia even showed you photos of her.

she looked happy, a bright wide smile in each photo. when sophia talked about the pregnancy, you felt like you could cry. all the milestones that you missed. especially when you realized sophia went through it alone, none of thomas’ support or presence. 

it hurt to hear how painful it all was for sophia, the hormone changes in her body. the way she felt about herself after the delivery. you wanted to be by her side, a shoulder to cry on as you both navigated having a child together.

so you both cried, you cried asking about her, and she cried listening to you describe how it feels to hear this all for the first time. 

how you dreamed of having a family with her. all along it was there, and she wanted the exact same.

as the night rose, you realized how late it had become. making plans to see anna the next afternoon.

before she left, sophia handed you a photo of anna as a keepsake.

the drive was somber, all you could do was replay the long conversation you had with sophia. there were bits and pieces that stuck with you, how proudly she spoke about having your child. how anna had the mischievous side of you. and the clever side of sophia.

you listened to her talk and even ordered room service for you two.

it was…nice.

almost like you two hadn’t torn each other to shreds many years ago.

it felt familiar, in a distant kind of way. 

you still want to hide how happy you were when sophia agreed to stay for dinner. she doesn’t deserve to know that. your heart was still in pieces, and one dinner wouldn’t change that fact.

but as you drifted off, you tried to wipe the smile off your face. 

truth is, you fail. you fail miserably.

--

this wasn’t how you planned on meeting your firstborn. you hoped it would be when she was born, still crying and wailing at the first introduction to the world. in a swaddle and tiny hands that would try to thrash around.

but instead you stood outside a large metal gate. a large bag in hand as you tried calming your nerves. 

you buzzed yourself in with the gate code, taking a slow look at the house that was supposedly sophia’s.

perfectly shaped hedges and large bed for flowers out front. large slabs of stone crossing the grass. you step forward towards the house. still a little weary of yourself.

maybe you have the wrong house.

you tuck your hat a little lower, feeling a bit self-conscious as you walk forward. cowboy boots clicking against the large slab stones. eventually you knock on the huge square door.

it opens into what could be described in architectural digest’s showroom mansions. large abstract paintings pinned on the walls. a flowing screen of water trickling. an ornate chandelier hanging high up.

there’s a quietness about this life. a different setting but the familiar quiet of living on a ranch. 

you continue to walk through the front, walking into a long extended room. seeing a large red conversation pit in front of you, a rather unusual vase shadowed by flowers placed in the center. 

and to your right is the kitchen, where sophia and another woman stand. both talking to each other animatedly. 

you give a light cough, to which sophia instantly turns to you. eyes going wide when she spots you.

“hi, you’re early.” sophia lets out, she still had another half hour before you were supposed to arrive. 

but instead you stand in her mansion looking as gorgeous as the first day her eyes found yours. 

cowgirl ensemble and her favorite hat of yours to pair.

“didn’t want to be late.” you explain.

lara eventually turns to you, seeing you for the first time. 

all she’s heard about you has been through sophia, and yeah lara means this in the most respectful way possible. 

but she understands why sophia is so crazy about you.

you step closer to them, the familiar clicking of cowboy heels against the floors. you stop on the other side of the counter.

“i really didn’t want to make a bad first impression.” you say placing the bag onto the table. also taking your hat off, placing it on the table.

you look at lara. “and you are?”

“i’m lara, sophia’s bestie.” lara gives a big smile, and you return one too. 

it strikes lara again, how much anna really looks like you. the same eyes that she’s seen when babysitting.

“nice to meet you lara. i’m-” you take off your hat, placing it onto the table, and extending your hand.

“don’t worry, i know and have heard a lot about you.” she gives a knowing smile as she shakes your hand.

sophia rolls her eyes at the smile.

you try looking around for a young toddler, eyes scanning around, but it lands on nothing. 

sophia starts, moving away from the kitchen. “i’ll go get her. stay here.”

“no, let me, you two should catch up.” lara winks at sophia before disappearing into the house. 

and you’re again, left with sophia.

“so i uh, went out and bought some toys.” you start, rummaging through your bag. “but i realized i don’t know what she’d like…so i kind of bought everything.”

you scratch your head a bit. realizing how dumb you looked with a toy from each aisle of the store.

sophia stares at the gesture fondly, looking at all the dolls and books you bought. enough to fill an entire shelf. 

it’s like you’re santa.

“thank you, you really didn’t have to.” sophia rounds the counter, standing close enough for you to inhale her perfume. 

you blink a bit before focusing again.

she sits down in a barstool, and you do the same.

“it’s nothing, i’m happy to.” you say smiling at sophia. you want to reach out and rub her cheek, but the sudden reminder of your reality keeps that urge down.

“how are ya, fia?” you let the nickname drop, you don’t even notice it but she does.

“i’m tired, but i’m happy you’re here.” and sophia means every word of it. 

you try not to let it, but the words blossom in your heart, a familiar kind of bliss from just being around her.

she’s happy to have you in her orbit even in the circumstances. 

you feel the same way, you’re more convinced that there’s more sophia’s not telling you. what other hidden mysterious could she be hiding from you?

“how about you? enjoying california?” sophia asks.

you think about your time here, it’s definitely different from new mexico. there’s more movement around, the beach is really nice. you’ve been swimming most days or taking long walks on the beach.

“it’s really nice out here, i can see why you came.” you didn’t want to make it feel like she chose california over you.

“yeah, it’s a beautiful state.” sophia thinks about how different life is for you back home.

suddenly a voice hits your ears.

“mommy!” a young girl squirms in lara’s arms. trying her best to reach sophia. and with quick steps, sophia eventually grabs a hold of anna. 

you watch the interaction in slow motion, your shoulders tensing when you realize this is real.

you spent the whole car ride over shaking your foot or biting your nail. to say you were excited and nervous is an understatement.

as sophia’s cuddling her a bit, the toddler’s eyes spot you. and she watches you, a sudden interest in your face.

you’re looking at your own daughter. and God, she reminds you of sophia when you were both younger. she’s got sophia’s long hair, but she has your eyes. 

she has your eyes.

it brings tears to your eyes, and you nearly have to step away so you can cry. but instead anna puts her arms out begging you to hold her.

and you do, with shaky arms. she sits comfortably on your side, looking up at you. small strong hands that pull at your shirt.

“hi there.” you say softly. and lara’s standing there taking photos of you three. sophia’s hands are shaking too. scared to let this moment disappear from her grasp.

anna continues exploring you, hand reaching up to pull at your face. letting your skin snap back when she lets go.

“mama!”

anna slaps her hands against your chest, happily clapping to herself and sophia gasps. her smart girl recognized you, from all the photos and stories she’s told her.

“mama? yeah, i’m your mama.” you cry out, tears falling down your face. you wipe them away with your sleeve. anna seeing you cry makes her cry too. 

“no no, please don’t cry, these are happy tears.” you try to wipe away your daughter’s tears.

lips still trembling as you held her tighter. she stops crying when you wipe her tears away too. leaning into you with a soft smile on her face.

“oh my God. this is really cute, but i have to go. it was lovely meeting you, let’s all have brunch sometime soon!” lara whispers to you, grabbing her purse and giving a hug to sophia before leaving.

“lovely to meet you too, lara.” you wave to her, and anna waves too. her hand shaking as she waves away.

“sophia i–she’s real.” you gasp, feeling the toddler mess with the pockets of your shirt.

“she is. want to play with her while i make her a snack?” sophia smiles fondly at you holding onto anna’s hand.

“yeah of course.” 

so you set the toddler down. grabbing each toy that you bought and shaking it in front of her. she seems mildly intrigued by each until you hold out a toy horse in front of her.

she grabs it with interest, immediately trying to bite it, but you pull it away quick enough before she bites down.

instead you show her how to walk the horse on the counter. you start putting other horses down for her. she continues to knock them into each other, much to your dismay.

“she loves horses. i wonder where she got that from?” sophia says teasingly, continuing to place grapes in a small cup. 

“hm, must be you?” you joke back.

you laugh a bit when sophia doesn’t respond. continuing to knock into horses with anna. 

“one time i took her to a carousel and she begged to get on the horse.” sophia continues, and you can imagine the scene. thinking fondly of the two.

“that’s my girl.” you say confidently, “oh i have a gift.” you grab your bag.

taking out a kid’s sized cowboy hat and fitting it onto anna’s head. it’s still too big for her and she gets completely covered by it.

“she’ll grow into it.” you say to sophia, taking it off the kid. the kid laughs a bit at the hat, putting it back on as she continues to play with the horses.

suddenly a thought hits you, and before you can control it, the words come tumbling out. you don’t mean to ask it, at least not in front of anna.

“would you have told me about her?” 

sophia stills, stopping her movements as she look at you, with all the sincerity in her eyes, she answers you.

“yes, i just didn’t want it to come out like that.” she refers to the divorce settlement meetings. “you deserved to know her.”

you nod along, a solemn expression painting the pain of not knowing your own daughter. you wanted to be there for all of it, the good and the bad. 

even for sophia. 

maybe you were still hopelessly in love with her. but now that there’s a child involved, things have shifted.

“i’m sorry for the things i said to you. what i implied, i didn’t mean it.” you say to her. gently adjusting the hat on anna’s head. “i was…angry, but that doesn’t make it okay.”

she takes a minute to absorb your apology, quietly moving through the kitchen.

“thank you, and i’m sorry too for everything.” sophia puts a juice box on the plate.

you also take a second to acknowledge her apology, it’s been hard grappling how sophia truly feels about you. whether she means everything she’s done to you.

for now you’ll accept whatever this is. but in you there’s still a very cautious and injured animal. cowering in fear that if you let her in again, she’ll ruin you. 

you grab anna, walking across the kitchen. putting her into a high chair. she pays it no mind as she continues playing with the plastic horse in her hand.

anna continues to mess with the horse, setting it down when she sees her plate of food. slowly eating it as you and sophia both watched.

“thanks for inviting me over.” you look at her, a genuine smile that refuses to leave. 

“of course.” sophia walks to the fridge, opening the door and scanning for beverages. “want something to drink?”

you walk right up behind her, enough to hover but not enough to touch her. she can feel your body heat radiating off.

“water would be good.” you reach into the fridge, grabbing a bottle and stepping back. sophia’s closes her eyes for a couple seconds. feeling a bit flushed at the sudden closeness. 

almost wishes you never moved away. and she turns to look at you, with something behind those eyes, you can’t quite place.

you want to ask her what’s going on. but then she walks away, back to the stove. you close the fridge, trying to shake off that moment.

you take a sip of water and return back to anna’s side. watching her happily eat some animal crackers. a smile erupting when you make silly faces at her.

anna pulls her arms up, begging you to hold her again. you lift her up and hold her on your hip. moving into the kitchen again, standing right next to sophia.

“mm, the famous laforteza sinigang?” you dip your head down, smelling the delicious soup. a familiar scent wafting into your nose.

smells like home.

“yeah, family recipe.” sophia continues stirring the pot every so often.

“smells good,” you say cheekily, and sophia grabs a spoon, cooling it down for you. and then spoons some to you. “and it tastes even better.”

you grab another spoonful and shovel it into your mouth.

“i’m going to miss your cooking.”

“yeah…want to stay for dinner?” sophia asks.

and its a step out. a step out of her comfort zone, an extending hand hoping that you take it.

she really hopes you take her up on the offer.

“that would be lovely.” you reply back, a small smile on your face when sophia’s eyes light up.

you continue to play with anna throughout the afternoon. she liked crashing horses into each other and running around the sofa. all of which would tire you out.

but she kept giggling and ran, so you had to run after her. eventually she settled for a nap, you tucked her in, a small blanket covering her as she slept on the couch.

“she’s out.” you speak up, getting up from the couch. walking towards sophia, and God. maybe the world is blessing her, because now you’re standing inside her home. 

“dinner is ready?” you ask.

she focuses again, nodding as you walk towards her cabinets. grabbing two bowls and utensils, passing them to sophia. 

she fills the bowls with some rice, passing them back to you. you set them on the dinner table, sophia grabs her small pot of sinigang. placing it to the next of you, you grab her plate, filling it with the delicious soup, doing the same for you.

“shall we say grace?” sophia began, sliding her hand over and you took it. 

a spark of electricity at the slight touch, you instantly flinch back a bit. before sliding your hand into hers again.

“dear heavenly father, we thank you for the food that we are about to eat. we ask that you would look protect us and guide us along your path. in jesus’ name, amen.”

“amen.” you say quietly, removing your hand. albeit a bit too quickly for sophia’s liking.

as you begin eating sophia’s sinigang, you think about what it would mean to be in anna’s life. how you could be an active parent despite living in a different state. 

it doesn’t seem feasible, having to travel back and forth to visit anna. and with a lack of reason to stay in new mexico, you suddenly erupt with an idea.

“i’m going to move here.” you say calmly, and sophia stops her spoon. lifting her head to look at you. 

“you’re moving here? like hollywood?” she asks, a little shocked at the sudden interest. 

as far as sophia could remember, new mexico was your home and you were content to live the rest of your life on that ranch.

“not hollywood per se, but definitely close by.” you gesture around, feeling your resolve continue to harden. 

“wow, this is a big move. what uh made you decide that?” sophia squirms in her seat a bit, watching you with purpose. a very secret part of her hopes you say it’s because of her and anna.

“i want to be in anna’s life, actively. traveling back and forth would be too difficult.” you look towards your daughter. who is still happily turning and twisting her horse. a delighted smile on her face.

sophia takes her time to reply, taking another sip of soup before leaning back in her chair. hands shuffling as she thinks of a thoughtful response.

“what about charlie? the horses? the chickens?” sophia asks.

she’s elated to hear that you want to be in anna’s life. it’s more than what she asked for, and to be a consistent part of anna’s life would be terrific. 

“i’m planning on buying a ranch out here. i’ll bring charlie, the horses, everything.” you explain. 

it was an idea that popped into your head earlier, a realization that you wanted your life near anna…and sophia. to still have your lifestyle, but be able to visit often and go out to the beach.

“you sure?” sophia continues to eat her food, and you return back to your bowl. feeling a sense of purpose surging through you, instead of aimless days without a direction, you could be a present parent.

“yeah, i’ve decided. and you know me, once i’ve decided it’s set in stone.” you give her a big grin, looking at her briefly. her eyes searching for something deeper, when a grin also appears on her face.

“well then, if your heart is set on it, then no one can stop you.” she explains.

“i’m going to be a cowgirl out here in california, who would have thought?” you grin continues to expand.

sophia rolls her eyes at that, but she can’t deny that deep down she’d love for you to be closer to her.

“don’t go too crazy now.” sophia comments, filling your empty plate with more soup, to which you happily eat more of. nearly emptying the bowl in less than thirty seconds.

to which she offers another filling.

“do they have rodeos out here? we should take anna when she gets older.” you comment. 

sophia doesn’t mistake the use of ‘we’ when you asked.

“yes, there’s some big ones out here, you’d be surprised.” she says, standing up to pick anna out of her high chair.

“hi cutie, want to sit with us?” sophia walks back over, anna perched on her lap when she sits back down. immediately her baby hands are trying to grab sophia’s bowl of food. hunger in her eyes.

“well, she’s definitely yours.” sophia nods at her kid, still trying to reach her small arms for the bowl, frustrated when sophia sits back. “your mom told me you used to do that as a baby. even threw a couple tantrums.”

sophia giggles to herself, seeing you fluster, the embarrassment rising your neck.

“whatever…” you drag out. a definitely big smile still plastered on your face as you watched your daughter try to struggle out of sophia’s grasp.

you think you could get used to this life, a life with anna and sophia.

‐‐

you continue to toss the keys in your hand as you hum along to a song you heard on the radio. the day has been long gone, and now the night is coming to a close too. after spending nearly all afternoon and dinner with sophia and anna, you’ve come to a couple conclusions.

you were definitely still in love with sophia, even if the world were to flip upside down tomorrow, those feelings would never dim.

you didn’t want a divorce, not now, not yesterday, not tomorrow.

you were going to be the best parent you could be.

it wasn’t something that you were happy to announce, considering sophia still had her fiancé. the same one that she conveniently doesn’t talk about. and honestly you aren’t too sure why.

you both have skirted the conversation about him in her life. as far as you knew, that was a person she willingly agreed to marry, she had no reason to state otherwise. but she still kept your kid?

that made everything more confusing. the lack of thomas in her life. every meeting that’s been had, every inch of sophia’s life wouldn’t lead one to believe that she’s happily engaged.

there are no photos of him in her home, even when you went poking in her bathroom, there was no sign of someone else that lived here. it’s unsettling…

you don’t know how to bring it up to her.

like hey, so what about your fiancé that you happen to be cheating on me with, but also you’re technically cheating on him with me?

there was something still lost in the grand picture, he didn’t fit into sophia or anna’s life. something’s not right, and you need to get to the bottom of it, before you lose your wife for good.

these thoughts continue to consume you, so much so you barely recognize the voice that’s calling out to you from the hotel lounge.

“hey neighbor!” and in front of you is manon, wide smile and a long dress to match. you quickly stop yourself before crashing into her. taking a step back before giving her a smile too.

“hey, how have you been?” you ask, subtly noticing the get-up. clearly she’s had a night out, a fancy one.

“i’m okay, came back from a failed date.” she points at herself, a small clutch in hand and sparkly earrings that dangle under her long curly hair.

“ouch, his fault?” you ask. both of you walk towards the bar, pulling her chair out and pushing her in. as you sit next to her.

“her fault, actually.” manon says confidently. you flag a bartender down to order two martinis. “she kept talking about herself all night, didn’t ask me a single question.”

you wince a bit, feeling sympathetic towards manon’s shitty night. the bartender slides over the drinks and you immediately take a sip.

“sorry for assuming, and that’s got to suck. you even dressed up so nicely!” you explain, taking a sip and listening to manon continue to complain.

“no harm no foul, most people don’t know i date women.” she explains, placing her clutch onto the bar counter. “and look! i even pulled my favorite dress out.”

she points at herself, and you can’t deny, it does look very good on her. form fitting and silver accents along the neckline. anyone would struggle to keep their eyes off her on a date.

“sorry to hear that, she wasn’t worth your time.” you continue to sip on your drink as she replays the story to you. telling you how it was doomed from the start, the lack of chivalry, the messy eating, the self-centered monologue, all of which made manon wish she was curled up in her hotel room, watching shitty rom-coms instead.

by then you two have had more than a couple drinks, and you can tell it’s definitely affecting manon more than you. her speech is a little slurred. her eyes are a bit unfocused, and her hands keep reaching out to touch your knee.

you’re not uncomfortable per se, but it definitely strikes you how forward manon is. batting her lashes and listening to you intently talk. almost as if she’s lost in a vision of you.

“alright, clearly you’ve had your fill. let’s get you to your room.” you grab a dizzy manon out of her chair, tucking her clutch under your arm. instantly she pulls all her weight onto you, you brace yourself, almost tipping over.

“sorry, had a bit too much.” manon giggles to herself, and you try your best to counter the weight. having her lean into your arms as you both walk away from the bar. slow steps as she continues to giggle to herself. 

you don’t notice it, not with how hard you’re trying to keep manon upright. the weight of her body trying to make you tip over.

but sophia’s here. she’s here and she’s shaking. in her hand is the cowboy hat you left in her house. 

she had found it when cleaning up the kitchen, hoping to see you again. so she drove over, a smile all over her face as she sang all the songs on the radio.

but now, no. no she’s furious. there’s an unnamed woman hanging off your arm. clearly interested with the way she’s hanging onto you like she was oh so weak.

fucking bullshit.

sophia’s pulled that move on you long before this woman even breathed in your direction. she’s gripping onto your cowboy hat with jealousy brimming in her heart.

and she might just snap. she’s going to snap this woman in half if she doesn’t get her hands off her wife. 

you are none the wiser, walking manon into the elevator and selecting the top floor. stepping back and begging the elevator to fly up, the doors are closing when suddenly in steps another woman.

sophia.

her eyes are filled with rage as she stares at manon next to you. 

“sophia! what are you doing here?”

you’re more than shocked to see her, she’s never come to visit you unless it was to discuss the divorce. and here she was standing in an elevator with you and a drunk manon going up to the top floor.

she stops her glaring long enough to focus on you. hat in hand that she slides back onto your head. “you left this. at my place.” 

she goes back to glaring at the other woman. and manon’s seeming to get the hint, even in her drunk state. pulling away from your arm a bit. and sophia can see it in her eyes, the recognition of her face. she knows exactly who sophia laforteza is.

“and who might you be?” sophia asks, it’s neither friendly not mean. but it’s definitely not kind. 

“i’m manon, living next door.” she gestures to you, eyes more alert as sophia tries to subtly put distance between you two. stepping in far enough that you back into your corner.

“i see.” sophia eyes her more, satisfied that the woman’s stepped away from you. and even more satisfied that her hand is off of you.

the elevator can’t go fast enough with the tense energy in the air. sophia takes a moment to situate herself, happy to have kept her away.

the elevator dings and all three of you walk out. and manon’s really drunk, because she nearly trips over herself, almost falling on the floor.

you reach out quickly, scooping her up before she fell. and with a few adjustments she’s back onto her feet.

“are you okay?” you ask, manon nods a bit trying her best to stabilize herself.

and sophia, well she’s watching like a hawk. ready to swoop in the second manon gets too close.

you walk manon to her room quickly, opening the door and setting her down on a chair. and sophia’s not exactly happy at the sight. it should be her being taken home by you, you keeping her upright if she was too wobbly. this kind of chivalry was supposed to be reserved for her. 

she shakes her head unhappily.

and with a quick nod from manon that she was all good, you bid her goodnight, walking away with sophia in tow. 

sophia gives manon a quick look over her shoulder before the door closed. and walks right after you, all the way into your hotel room. she thinks long and hard, about the next words she’s going to say to you, because really…these emotions have been erupting in her all day.

she walks in after you, closing the door behind her.

but she settles on these next words carefully, eyes wild and hair even wilder. 

“are you fucking her?” sophia enunciates every syllable, she always did this whenever she got serious. wanted to make it obvious what she’s asking, no chance for you to stand there looking confused. 

she hates when you look at her like you’re confused.

your eyes nearly jump out of your skull, you immediately let out a sharp gasp.

“no, of course not!” you reply, feeling a little upset at the question. 

“not that it’s any of your business.” 

it hits both of you like a train when you say it. in truth, you want it to hurt, you want sophia to tell you everything was one big mistake. want her to snap out of it, want her to pull you in by the belt of your pants. to fuck you like you meant something.

but you want it to sting, she doesn’t have the right. doesn’t have the ability to dictate what you are to her, not with him still in the picture. you’re digging for more, for her to explain his unusual place in her life. 

“say that again.” 

she dares you, eyes hard like steel. 

you step close enough to breathe it in her face, she doesn’t step back, body tight like a rubberband. and you think if you breathe in the wrong, maybe right, direction, she’ll blow up.

“i said…it’s none of your business.” you hold your own, standing firmly. she stares at you, listening to you try to defend yourself . “it’s none of your business. who i fuck. who i kiss. who i touch.”

you continue to corner her a bit, and she’s getting angrier by the second, you know in a second she’d be all over you like a predator, she has that gaze.

“oh! you must be out of your depth here.” she pushes you with a light laugh at the end of sentence. grabbing you by your shirt, hand clenched to the point her knuckles turn white. you feel like you’ll snap, either your shirt or you first, you don’t know. “it is my Goddamn business.”

she snarls the words out, an anger thats fueled by jealousy and the tense sexual tension that always lingers when you two are too close. 

“funny how you think i’d let you touch someone else, with what’s supposed to be mine.”

she pushes you, enough to make you stumble a bit, your hat falling onto the ground. then grabbing onto you again, pulling you straight into the bedroom. each step like a sentence to the dungeon, but you’re more than happy to be locked here. with all her attention and anger directed at you.

“you want to play dumb? fine. let me remind me who you belong to.” 

you fall backwards onto the mattress, ready to push her under you, an undercurrent of wanting to control the pace nearly making you go tunnel vision. but sophia’s got her mind set. eyes ablaze as she pulls your belt out of your jeans. holding your body down with her hips. she stares at you angrily, a need to remind you where you are. 

under her. 

she ties your hands in a quick fashion, pulling the belt until there’s tension, keeping your hands above your head. 

you try pulling against the bedpost, but it doesn’t give.

she pushes your shirt up, until she can scratch your stomach with her nails, then she leans down, hair in beautiful waves falling around you, until all you can breathe and see is her.

she pushes your pants down a bit, not enough to take it off, but enough to let the pressure of your pants alleviate. and then she stops midway. your pants are lifted off your hips but not enough to move anywhere else.

“either you tell me who this belongs to.” she snaps the pants back onto your skin. hand immediately back on you, pressed against you, not enough to move, but with enough to make you want to buck your hips. “or i leave you here. your choice.” 

she says it in that tone, the one that lets you know there’s no other choice, not if you still want to be in her good graces. 

“yours fia, i swear.” you groan a bit, trying to find some pressure to alleviate the ever present problem in your pants. “all of me belongs to you.”

she smiles big, in that smile that lets you know she’s won, and she’s going to be rewarded heavily for it.

“good answer baby.” she taps your cheek a bit, liking the way you keep trying to touch her, like you deserved to after pulling that with her. 

“i would say you kept up a good fight,” she takes a long lick over your stomach, feeling it tense under her touch, “but we know you’ll end up like putty in my hands.”

she’s reeling in her win, a cocky grin that won’t leave her face. you nearly whimper at the contact, she’s barely touched you and you’re taut, trying to arch into her, for some contact at the very least.

“please fia, let me touch you.” you whine again, trying your best to get out of your restraints. its driving you mad how you can’t touch her. can’t feel her the way you want.

“not tonight. not until i'm satisfied.” she leans back, unbuckling your pants and staring down at you, like she’s caught her prey in a trap. 

you continue to try and move your hips, like a caught animal trying so desperately to be released, but it’s no use. not when she’s got you finally where she wants you. 

“fuck fia, please, need to touch you.” you try to beg, but it only spurs her on, oh how the mighty have fallen. she shakes her head, giving you a kiss on the cheek before climbing off of you, pulling herself off the bed.

she takes her time, tonight she’s in charge, and she’ll take everything she can get. especially with the way you’re trying so hard to watch her, head trying to look at her despite the restraints holding you in place. it drives her insane, knowing she still has that much of an effect on you, tracking all of her movements without trying to miss a single second. 

she can feel herself getting hot by how hard you’re staring at her. a slight sheen on sweat on the back of her neck. you wish you could just rip these restraints off you, to show her who she belonged too. but a deep part of you is just as enticed by this side of her. 

desire pooling in your lower stomach and you nearly jump when she takes off your shoes, sliding them off quickly. you don’t even care what she does, as long as she’s touching you, you’re more than okay with that. 

her hands slide up along your pants, and really you feel like a horny teenager being touched for the first time. the way she intentionally drags it out, slow enough to keep you engaged but not enough to give you relief. 

“fia, please.” you beg again, and again. she swears she’s never heard you so desperate, at the mercy of her control. she could get used to this. and soon enough, she’s pulling your pants and boxers off, enough to alleviate the pressure that’s been confining your lower half.

“please what?” she says with anticipation in her eyes, she’s never seen you so out of control. so much want to let her do whatever she wants. it makes her pride swell.

“please, touch me.” you moan out, and you’re so tightly wound that it almost feels like you’re in pain. pain of not having her all over you. desperate and whining for attention.

she likes the sound of that. pulling herself forward, settling for sitting on top you. light touches dancing on your hip. not close enough to where you truly want her, but a relief that she is even touching you at all. the hard exterior that you’ve put up over the years is crumbling, and of course is being unraveled by her.

she continues her light touches until she gets lower, already sensitive to the touch, trying your best to get some movement against her hand. but she holds still, liking the way you’re completely at her will.

then she spits in her hand, enough to get your cock wet, spreading it all over. you moan at the contact, letting yourself relax again, getting that much needed relief after all.

sophia’s got other plans in mind.

“so, you let anyone touch you?” she says, continuing to stroke you up and down, letting the build up confuse your brain, “do you, slut?” 

you’ve never heard sophia talk like this before, the way she stares down at you like you’re nothing and everything at the same time. the way she stops her hand when you don’t respond.

“answer me.” it’s not particularly loud, but it makes you want to shrink. 

“n-no, i don’t.” you whimper a bit, trying to buck your hips again, to which she completely lets go of you. a growing dissatisfaction in her eyes. 

“you don’t, slut? so what was that back there?” she growls out. 

“i-i i really-she was drunk. i was helping her back. please sophia, please touch me.” you beg, trying to move your legs and by now sophia’s getting irritated. 

“don’t let that happen again.” sophia goes back to stroking you again, and you nearly flinch at the contact, it was so sudden and gentle that you wanted to chase after it.

“i won’t, i promise! please faster.” you continue to beg, head thrown back in pleasure as she continues to give you a growing pleasure in your stomach. she gives you a quick kiss on the lips, a reward for the correct answer.

“my little slut will get what she wants.” sophia says it out loud, but mostly it’s for herself. a direct and open claim of you. you’ve never been so worked up before, all this teasing and lack of control is making every sense more heightened.

“yes, please, fuck.” you moan out everytime she drags her hand up the top, a delicious pressure that has you leaking out pre-cum. you’re breathing heavy, head to one side as you try to fight the growing orgasm that’s closing in on you. the feeling of sophia all over you again has you unraveling earlier than you were expecting. “i’m your slut.”

you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore, just begging for a release, one that sophia will happily grant you if you answer this next question correctly. she speeds up her movements, you continue to let out begging words at her mercy. 

“so, who’s is this?” she makes it a point to squeeze you suddenly, drawing a gasp and some more pre-cum flowing from the head. the increased pace is making you want to pass out, and all you can feel is the mounting orgasm that will explode soon.

“fuck, yours, i swear to God, it’s yours, i’m yours.” you ramble a bit, trying so very desperately to chase after your own release, it’s a beautiful sight to sophia. just a little more and she has you begging for a single touch.

she doesn’t mistake how you try to bite at something, anything to contain the inevitable orgasm. you bite into the closest thing you have which is a small pillow to your right. and your body tenses like it usually does, a tightness in your stomach and you try and push into her hand. 

“fuck, sophia, please, don’t stop.” you continue to push into her hand, and she can feel herself drooling at the sight, wiping it away with the back of her other hand. and like a drawn bow, the arrow is released.

“fuck oh God, fia. fuck, i’m cumming.”

you shake a bit as you cum, legs shaking and torso taut, arching off the bed, the cum spilling out in streams. 

all landing on your abdomen. 

but sophia doesn’t stop, she continues to stroke you through the orgasm, your body convulsing at the motion, it drives you insane. you can feel your body feeling overloaded with stimulation. 

“fuck-sophia, please,” you try to gain some control, the continuous stroking making you cum more than you’ve ever cum before. “give-give me a second.”

she gives you a few more strokes before letting go, you’re breathing hard, sweat glistening under the lights, and God, sophia swears she’ll never let you walk away from her again. as she watches you try to get your focus back. instead, she pulls herself on top of you, resting herself right on top of your spent cock.

she pulls her dress up, just above her hips, dragging herself on top of your cock, a slow rocking motion against you, and you let out a gasp at the contact again. your brain is fuzzy and barely recovered when she starts moving. 

she has every intent of making this as pleasurable for herself.

you can feel it, the lack of panties in the way. she came all the way here for one thing only, it only brings you faster to attention, the blood flowing straight to your cock once more.

she continues to ride the underside of your cock, small moans and quick breaths pulling from that gorgeous throat of hers. 

you’re mesmerized, eyes in a trance, loving the way she’s using you for her own pleasure. to chase after her own orgasm. you try pulling at the restraints again, trying to desperately to touch her. 

she smiles through all of it, enjoying you trying so hard to get your hands out of your belt. she smells sweet, and the mixed smell of everything is driving you insane.

“fia, please, let me touch you.” you’re pleading with her, barely able to get out a single word without pulling again. and she finds it insanely hot, how you can’t even focus on anything. eyes flying around, trying to pull yourself free, trying to watch her at the same time, trying so very hard.

she swears she can cum just from watching you, her continuous rocking motion making her approach her own orgasm. it’s the delicious pressure on her clit that makes her stay still. wants to see you continue to beg, wants that torture to ruin you. 

until all you know and want is her.

“mm, maybe if you’re good i’ll let you.” sophia returns back to riding herself on top of you, leaning down to pepper kisses along your abs. a reminder that she has every right to touch you anywhere. it’s bringing you to your own orgasm too. and in a deft motion, she pulls herself back, seeing your cock angry red, trying to jump at the loss of contact. 

she smirks at that, slowly lifting her hips to slid it near her hole. the tip just barely prodding the entrance, and with a slow controlled movement, she sinks down onto you, inch by inch, she takes her time. enjoying the delicious stretch, her hands scratching your stomach, where just seconds ago she had left kisses. each lipstick mark like a claim of possession.

“you look so good like this,” she drags a singular nail around, continuing to slowly lift her hips again, and rocking back down. “such a good little slut for me.” 

“fia, fia, fia.” you chant her name like a mantra. caught under her spell and wanting nothing more than to spill everything inside of her. “fuck, i’m close.”

“already?” sophia smirks, and really she’s teasing you. she knows how wound up you are, how sensitive you are after your first orgasm, one slight clench and you would spill inside of her. 

so she tests you, giving you a clench that has your eyes prickling with tears. you can barely contain yourself, twitching wildly at the sudden pressure. wanting so badly to touch her, any part of her. 

she leans in close, giving you another squeeze that has you convulsing once more.

“fia, please, i’m so close.” you whine out. 

she’s on cloud 9 right now, clenching again and then you’re spilling inside of her. loud pants and whines ripping through your already dry throat. cumming with every bit of energy that you have within you. 

she leans close again, kissing you wildly through your orgasm. hair clenched in between her fingers. you’re letting out pretty sounds out of your mouth through each kiss. still trying so hard to pull against the leather belt. tears and cum spilling out of you. and sophia thinks you look glorious like this under her.

you eventually feel the ebbs of your orgasm dying out, sophia still wrapped around you, warm heat that is making you lightheaded.

“Jesus Christ, fia. i’ve never cum that hard.” you get out in between gasps, eyes closed and trying your best to calm your heart. it’s beating faster than you’ve ever felt it, and if you weren’t so spent you would realize sophia’s chasing after her own orgasm. using her fingers to bring her to her own orgasm, with your cock still nestled inside. 

“mm, fuck, that’s good, stay inside.” she whines a bit, continuing to rub herself, rocking herself against you, and really you can’t take it anymore, nearly losing yourself in the throes of passion, almost blacking out. but the sensation keeps you close, the persistent tension against the belt.

“fuck!” she comes tumbling down, orgasm causing her to clench around you, shaking on top of you and then she falls on top of you. cock still very much inside of her as she continues to cum. you try your best to give her kisses, peppering her cheek with them as she’s spent too. heavy breathing, chest to chest, and your eyes are bleary. 

sophia’s the first to move, pushing herself up, enough to have both of her arms holding her up on top of you. her eyes are so filled with emotion, the same kind of emotion she held in her eyes when she stood across from you on that altar, under God, and with everyone in the church. 

she wants to cry, everything’s been so emotional, how she had yearned for you for years. regretting ever leaving you, carried your child and stood by everything that she did in hopes that you two would return to each other. when everything isn’t as messy as it once was. 

just two girls trying to be with each other.

like both of you intended. and by no means is this meant to save everything between you, but for now, for this very moment where your two souls are connected like puzzle pieces, she’ll allow herself this relief. 

in this moment you were hers and she was yours, through and through. 

so she dips back down, giving you a kiss that’s pouring every emotion she can possibly muster up, every ounce of grief, pain, love, and yearning born from her love for you. she doesn’t know if it’s enough, but she hopes it means something to you. wet tears hitting your cheeks as she continues to kiss you. trembling lips that are trying to hold back the pain of losing you, over and over again.

“fia?” you ask her, watching the way the cries continue to slip out, silently crying on top of you. she continues her downpour of tears even when she slips the belt off your hands. your hands immediately on her face again. trying so desperately to stop her tears. so moved by your action that she cries all over again. head sinking to your shoulder.

two naked souls trying to have a conversation with each other. 

you hold her in your hands, keeping her close and softly rubbing her back in comforting circles. and she cries in your arms. wrapping around your torso too. you hold her for the whole night, until her cries turn into soft breaths and her tears have dried. until she’s that girl that you asked to marry when you both were bright-eyed and had dreams of conquering the world.

you hold her close long after she’s fallen asleep. moving to another bed in the suite after you’ve cleaned up the mess between you two. the softness of her eyes hidden under calmness, gently brushing her hair as she continues to sleep through the night. 

you eventually succumb to sleep too. holding her in your arms and hers securely around yours too. in the middle of the night she woke up in a panic, trying desperately to find you, only to realize you were right in front of her. soft snores and a heavy arm laid on her side. 

she kissed each part of your face gently, just to prove to herself you were here. before closing her eyes again. drifting off to a dreamland where your family was all together, laughter and screams filling the air.

‐‐

last night was something.

you didn’t know how to explain it, and you’re sure sophia wouldn’t be able to either.

but last night, you both quickly cross the threshold of just ex partners trying to coparent. crossing the threshold of just trying to coexist in each other’s worlds without crashing into each other. but honestly, did you really think you could just coexist with sophia?

the same woman that stole your heart when she brought you charlie as a small pup from her uncles dog’s litter. the same woman that was your personal nurse when you almost got trampled by a bull and had to be bed-ridden for weeks.

no, you could never simply coexist with her. your lives were intertwined as if by the simple laws of nature. by the simple fact that she was yours and you were hers. through legality and spirituality you two could never completely separate from each other.

and by God’s grace, you were here. running your hands through her hair gently. an ache in your heart and soul to reconnect with the one woman who had spoiled love for you. it drives you mad with want and resentment, wanting for her to be yours again. no need for anyone to interfere.

if last night was any indication of her feelings for you, then you’d be a fool to think she wants anyone other than you. but still everything is so confusing with her, how she refuses to speak about him. you want answers, last night wasn’t just some jealous fueled hook up to you. it has to mean more. it simply has to, or else…did you just give your heart away again?

sophia stirs under your touch, a light smile at the touch, she leans into it, enjoying the way you continue to massage her scalp. it’s relaxing and reminds her of the small acts of affection that you love giving her.

“hi.” you whisper gently, liking the way she hums lightly. eventually placing a hand over your heart, just holding it there. feeling it pulse under her hand. 

“hi, good morning.” you listen to her morning voice, like a songbird it’s tickles your ears. you smile wide before inching closer, placing a quick kiss onto her lips. to which she pulls you in closer, a long and searing kiss filling both of your desires.

“so, last night?” you cock an eyebrow, you weren’t playing any games and you hoped she wasn’t either. instead sophia curls into herself, feeling hot heat rise to her cheeks, dusting them in pink.

“last night…yeah…”sophia drags out. trying her best to hide under the covers again.

“nuh uh, come on, what was all that?” you ask. pulling the covers away, revealing an extremely embarrassed sophia. she instead covers her face with her hands. trying to roll to the other side. “fia?”

“ugh fine, i was…i was jealous okay!” sophia lets go of her hands, dropping them to her side, but still unable to look at you in the eyes. you chuckle a bit, to which she hides herself again. 

this time you don’t bother trying to unveil her.

“yeah i got that,” you roll your eyes in amusement, oh it was clear as day she was jealous. she always was whenever someone got to close to you, or even lingered a little too long. this wasn’t the unusual part, sophia rarely acted on her jealousy. instead letting you respectfully tell the other party that you were taken, because in her head. it was hotter that way. it was hotter for her you to state how you were taken than for her to intervene.

“but seriously fia, you’ve never pulled that. i mean ever.” you continue, dropping the amusement in your voice.

“i know…and it’s so stupid, i just…” she continues to voice out her embarrassment, “everything between us is so rocky, and i needed this. i needed to prove to myself that i’m still who you want.” 

your eyes soften at the sudden vulnerability. instead of embarrassment, sophia lets her hands drop. sitting up straight, half of the duvet still covering her. and you sit up too. 

“fia…what do you mean?” you ask, taking her hand in yours, rubbing small circles on her hand. to calm her through this vulnerable moment, and show that you were here for her.

“i guess, what i’m trying to say is. i still need to know that you want me, and i know it’s selfish. but my God, i still want you, i always have, even when i left, everything in me still wants you.” she rambles out, her other hand moving in a dramatic motion, eyes that are darting everywhere, eventually focusing on you.

“and thomas?” you drop the question. the topic that you both have skirted around since your arrival. especially when you refused to let her explain herself when you left your ranch two years ago. you ask it in a quiet voice, feeling yourself sink at the question. 

you weren’t ready for the answer, but it was now or never.

“thomas, he.” sophia runs her hand through her hair, a long sigh causing her to deflate. “he isn’t my fiancé, at least not willingly. he-his dad, i signed my acting contract with his dad.” she continues to speak, a hidden vulnerability that’s making her shrink herself, head dipped low, almost as if she’s embarrassed. 

you hate the sight of it.

“i signed a contract when i first got here, right after i landed my first big role. everyone wanted to book me, so i signed with his company. and thomas he-he fucking used that contract against me.”

you nod, but there’s a sudden burst of anger growing in your heart. 

“he fucking-he fucking made me get the divorce.”

she dropped the bomb, and you’re leaning back now, shock hitting your system all over again. “sophia, what?” you gasp out, eyes confused and she looks up, watery eyes staring into you.

“he used the contract against me, he knew i had a spat with one of his dad’s buddy directors. i walked out on the filming, my manager made it seem like i had health issues. but i couldn’t stand him, so i left, i left an entire project. everyone was mad, i mean his dad almost threatened to cut me.” sophia continues to talk, a tear falling and you can’t even utter a word.

“you can’t just leave a project unscathed, you could get blacklisted out here. and fucking thomas, he used that against me. he had evidence of me walking out, and he said he would leak it, it would’ve destroyed my career. i was fucking blackmailed.” 

sophia continues to cry, angry tears rolling off her cheeks, much different from the ones she had last night.

“sophia…” you say gently, trying to calm her anger, even though the one inside of you was growing.

“and he fucking asked to get married. said it would fix everything, he would delete the evidence and i would be able to get back to my career. and i said yes, i never should’ve. should’ve just let my career die, but then he got records of us, our marriage. said he would leak that too, fuck.”

you continue to rub small circles, a gentle reminder that you were here, on her side.

“so i came back, to new mexico. i never wanted to ask for a divorce, i swear to you. and when you agreed, my heart shattered. i promised myself i would never love anyone the way i love you. we-we kept on being together, and i fell even harder than i could remember, i still wanted you as much as the first day i met you.” she brings her hand up to hold your head, vulnerable eyes searching for yours.

“i wanted something to keep, even if i had to be miserable for the rest of my life, i wanted to keep something of yours. i wanted to carry your kid. it was the only way i could have you close but keep you safe.” she cries a bit, still holding onto you, trembling fingers dancing along your jaw.

“anna. God gave me anna. God gave me her and i would never trade her for anything. she’s ours and she will always be.” 

“sophia, damn it.” your words are unstable, and you let out a single tear, the pain of thinking about her for two years coming back. all the pain and yearning for each other never subsided. for either side.

“i know, i know baby.” she cries continuing to cradle your jaw, leaving a kiss so soft it felt like a petal had fallen on your face. “it was selfish–but it was all i had. i knew our time was almost up, and i needed something of yours. it’s so selfish, but i could never regret having her.” 

you know in some twisted way what she was expressing. that night, two years ago, you wanted to leave something behind too. something for sophia to remember you by, the willingness to do everything she wanted, to even leave her with the possibility of carrying your child. you wanted it all.

“sophia, i was selfish too.” you confess, remembering how you felt that night, in the midst of the passion you realized how badly you wanted to leave your imprint on her too. “i’ve always, and i mean always, dreamed of having a big family with you. so when you asked me to, you know…i gave into that instinct, because it’s all i ever wanted.”

she stares at you, heart exploding in a thousand directions. she remembered very early on in your marriage, you bringing up wanting kids, maybe as a simple comment. but she couldn’t deny how happy you looked playing with her nieces and nephews.

“you want kids with me?” sophia asks.

“of course i do, fia.” you reply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “i always did, and i always will. even now i still do.” 

you shift a bit, pulling her into a hug with how stunned she looks at you. another explosion of warmth from her heart. even with a tormented past that held her instincts back, how she aches just the same for you. it drives her mad, you wanted everything she wanted and more.

you rub her back gently, enjoying the way she’s holding you so close. she drops her head onto your shoulders, and you do too. just contently laying on each other.

“so, what do we do?” you ask. you’re hoping sophia won’t go through with the divorce. everything that was shared here, in the bed that you two share, it’s something worth preserving.

she lifts her head off your shoulder, taking both of your hands in hers, a determined look in her eyes. 

“you remember lara?” she asks, a small smile on her eyes.

“of course.” you reply, pulling one of her hands towards you to give a small kiss, just across each knuckle.

“well, we found something, some dirt on thomas.” she starts, reaching for her phone and opening the photo album. “we’re going to leak it to the press, everything, all his partying problems, the coercion of marriage, my acting contract.”

she shows you everything, including the unsavory of parts of thomas’ addictive lifestyle. she even points out the clauses in thomas’ fathers inheritance. it’s all there in fine print, this would kill even the highest star’s reputation.

“but sophia, won’t this kill your career?” you ask, realizing there’s no way for her to get out of this freely. surely his team will try and ruin her, ruin everything that she’s worked so hard towards.

“we’re going to leak it to multiple sources, anonymously of course. we’ll leak it tomorrow morning. it’ll be the first day of freedom, i won’t be under his clutches anymore.” she says exasperatedly, dropping the phone onto her bed. 

“tomorrow? why tomorrow?” you ask, going back to holding her hands. 

“i wanted to tell you first, everything about me and my past, you should hear it from me. i didn’t want to leak it and have you find out that way. you deserved to hear it from me.” 

“thank you.” it meant more to you than she could ever know. you were tired of hearing about everything after the fact, almost like an afterthought. to hear about everything firsthand was a relief, she considered how you would feel and took the time to explain the situation to you.

she gives you a kiss, a soft one. one that blooms feelings of love in your chest once more.

“i’m sorry, for everything.” she expresses. 

“i know fia.” you respond, giving her a kiss that makes her wrap her arms around you, trying to deepen the kiss when you pull back. “but i need time, to process everything. i don’t think i can give you my heart as it is right now.” 

you want to, but how could you be expected to offer your heart on a silver platter even with everything that’s been revealed. a part of you still resents her for what she’s refused to tell you, you know it was because of thomas but still there are things that wound your heart. and you need time.

you two were by no means perfect, but you would try everything to make it so that you two could work. 

and sophia, she would try ten times harder to win your heart back.

she swore to God she would.

--

a/n: the much anticipated pt2 of the 'save a horse, ride a cowgirl' fic. i hope i have brought the story to justice. stay safe and stay healthy everyone. cheers, hope you've enjoyed!

[keirareidss]

summertime girl - a.h

♡ summary: reader wears a sundress. hotch goes insane pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, reader wears a dress,slight description of readers body wc: 1.5k

The sun was out, the weather was hot, and the BAU was on vacation. They all had the day off so they were spending it at Rossi's mansion, in his backyard for a barbecue.

The smell of burgers, hot dogs, and summer wafted through the air. Rossi stood at the grill, swatting at anyone who tried to come too close to his precious meat with his spatula. Emily and JJ sat in folding chairs, drinks in hand, sunglasses on as they relaxed. Spencer sat cross legged on the grass, teaching Henry chess while Morgan sat on the porch with Hotch.

You... well you were definitely entertained. You and Jack were playing some made up game, a cross between tag, hide and seek, and the floor is lava. Currently, you were chasing him across the lawn, sandals left on the porch next to Aaron's chair for him to dutifully watch over. Your sundress flowed behind you in the wind, fluttering around your legs when you stopped. You caught up to Jack, wrapping your arms around him and laughing as the both of you tumbled to the ground. Your fingers danced along his sides, tickling him as he squirmed on top of you. You stopped, letting him rest as his giggles became more breathless.

"You've been caught. The tickle monster wins again!" You cheer as he smiled wide. He lets his head drop down to your shoulder, huffing out a breath, tired from all the activity. "You hungry bud?" You asked, rubbing his back gently. He nodded.

"Uh huh."

"I think Rossi's almost done at the grill. What do you want, burger or hot dog?"

"A hot dog!" Jack sits up on your stomach. You glance over, seeing Rossi start serving out burgers.

"Well, go get one before they're all gone." You smile and he climbs off of you, running over to Rossi. You lay on the grass, staring up at the sky and breathing in the fresh air for a few peaceful moments. Soon, a face appears above you. Your lovely boyfriend Aaron Hotchner.

"Having fun?" He asked, smiling down at you.

"Loads of it." You grinned. He holds out a hand to help you up and to take it gratefully. He pulled you to your feet, steadying you with a hand on your waist. "Mm, handsy today, Hotchner." You grinned at him.

"It's hard not to be when you're wearing that." He murmured lowly, leaning close so only you can hear him.

"You like it? I had you in mind when I picked it out."

"I love it. You look gorgeous. Are you hungry?" Sweet, sweet man.

"I could eat."

"Let's get you some food." He says, holding an arm out to guide you towards the grill. Once you pass him, Aaron spares a quick glance to make sure the others aren't watching before he plants a firm smack on your behind.

"Aaron!" You giggle, looking over your shoulder at him. He wears a smug grin as he follows you to the grill.

That fucking dress. He couldn't stand it. He hated it. He loved it. He loved the way it fluttered around your ankles. He loved the way it hugged your curves so well, accentuating your form. He loved the pattern, the length, the cut, everything. It was absolutely perfect. And he despised it.

He watched from the porch, where Morgans chatter was drowned out into nonsense, as you chased his son around the yard. He felt like a perv for staring but he absolutely couldn't help it. When you and Jack toppled to the ground, his jaw clenched at the way the hem off your dress rucked further up your thighs. The wind blew it up high enough that, if he were close enough, he might be able to see your panties.

"Yo, are you listening?" Morgan's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Yes."

"What'd I just say?" Derek asks, but luckily Hotch is saved by Rossi's voice calling out.

"You two! Burgers or hot dogs?"

"Burger for me!"

"I'll have the same." Hotch agrees. He watches Jack get off of you and run towards the grill, faintly hearing him say 'can I have a hot dog please?'. Hotch gets up, making his way over to you. You look angelic, laying on the ground, hair splayed out around your head, your chest rising and falling softly. He helped you up and you went to get burgers from Rossi, the team all sitting down to eat together. A few bites in, you stood up from the table.

"I'm gonna run and get napkins, does anyone need anything?" You asked politely. They all declined so you headed inside. You were searching Rossi's kitchen to find some extra napkins when you heard the door open. You turned to find Aaron entering the house, the door swinging shut behind him, blocking the others from seeing or hearing the two of you. "Hey, what do you need?"

"You." He said huskily, striding over to you, pushing you against the island and capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His hands grip your waist, yours moving to wrap around his neck. "You look so beautiful." He trails his kisses down your neck, sucking a patch of skin between his teeth and biting down. You let out a small gasp as he leaves a mark on your neck. His lips trail further down to your chest, pressing firm kisses onto the skin of your breasts. He brushes the hair off your other shoulder, moving to that side to press kisses to the other parts neck.

"Aaron," You say breathlessly.

"Shh. Now, turn around and bend over." He murmurs into your ear. You turn, pressing your hips against the counter as you lean onto it. "So pretty." Aaron hums, his hands gathering the fabric of your dress, lifting it up. He rucks it up your body until its collected above the curve of your ass. The hand that's not holding your dress up starts undoing his belt buckle. He unzips his pants, pulling them and his boxers just low enough to free his cock. He pulls down your pretty lacy panties, his eyes landing on the slick between your legs. You're already wet for him. He moves forward, holding his hand under your chin. "Spit." He orders. You comply, spitting into his hand. He moves his hand back down, slowly pumping himself.

"Aaron, please." You whined, pushing your hips back towards him.

"Be patient, honey." He grabs your hips, slowly inserting himself into you. You let out a moan as he sheaths himself inside you, pausing to let you adjust to his length. "Shh. Don't want to get caught, do you?" Aaron teases. "We have to be quick, sweetheart, or else they'll come looking for us." He starts moving, pulling himself nearly out of you before slamming back in. You moan again and his brings his hand back to your mouth, muffling your moans. He keeps a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you, pressing you against the counter. He lets out a few low groans, stifling the louder ones through clenched teeth. His hand pushes your dress further up your back as he fucks you against the counter.

"So good for me. So, so pretty." Aaron grunts, quickening his pace. You moan out against his hand, yours coming up to pull it away from your mouth.

"I'm close. 'M so close, Aaron." You whined, the symphony of skin slapping against skin, the scent of arousal encasing your words.

"Me too. Almost there, honey." He fucks into you harder and faster, sweat dripping down his brow. He leans down, kissing you sweat slicked spine, his hand trailing down your side, feeling your soft skin under his fingers. His grips your ass harshly.

"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-" You cut yourself off, moaning his name as your orgasm washes over you. Aaron follows soon after, his upper body collapsing onto yours with a grunt. He kisses behind your ear before standing, tucking himself back into his pants. He pulls your panties back up, snapping the elastic waistband against your skin teasingly. He pulls your dress back down, fixing it so it sits nicely. He spins you around by your waist, checking you over.

"How do I look?"

"Ravishing. How do you feel?"

"Ravished." You grinned, slipping past him on wobbly legs to find your purse. You pull out your compact concealer, covering up the fresh hickeys on your neck and chest. You meet Hotch's gaze over the top of your compact and notice the smug look on his face. "You are something else Mr. Hotchner." You shake your head smiling. You flick the compact shut and drop it back into your purse, taking his hand. You walk back out of the house together, heading back over to where the team was eating. Derek looks up, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Hey, where are the napkins?"

a/n: this it my first time writing smut, what do we think? I have a lot more planned so stay tuned! let me know if you think I should start a tag list or something :)

[meowdei]

part two

Starting an internship at the company Satoru’s father owns but you don’t know who he is just yet.

He’s annoying. He always comes back from lunch late, lets his phone ring at his desk (that’s conveniently placed next to yours) past the three ring policy, writes emails with silly and immature sign-offs, cracks jokes during meetings, and somehow, despite always finishing his paperwork late, he never manages to lose his damn job.

You try to mind your own business. But you can’t help but feel him slowly grate at your nerves as he acts so unprofessional and for some weird reason, not one person seems to care.

He seems pretty intrigued with you, too, if matters couldn’t get worse.

“Hey,” he grins. You try to ignore the tilt of his lips in amusement as you just barely fight off rolling your eyes.

“Can I help you with something?” You sigh, “I’m currently in the middle of something that requires my full attention, but maybe we could—”

“You really love your office jargon,” he hums, cutting you off with a wider grin, “so dedicated.”

“Oh, my apologies,” you smile tightly. He seems to straighten a little, some sick, twisted form of excitement rushing through his system at the way he seems to get under your skin. “Allow me to use simpler language for you to understand: go away, I’m busy.”

Someone has to stand up to this prick, you think. He puts in half the effort, and somehow, you’re pretty sure your boss has a soft spot for him. You don’t understand it, and quite frankly, you’ll be damned if a lazy, lackluster man snags a promotion before your hardworking self.

“Oh wow,” he snorts, “breaking your strictly professional streak, are you? You must be really occupied. I guess I’ll borrow your stapler later.”

Gritting your teeth, you give him yet another tight lipped smile before grabbing the stapler off your desk and handing it to him. (A small part of you resists the urge to throw it square at his face. Maybe the image of him on the floor with a bloodied nose would make your day a little easier, but then you’re sure you’d be jobless).

“Here you go,” you say with as much kindness as you can muster. (It’s not a lot). “Please do bring it back when you’re done. Some of us actually complete paper work, so the stapler is a necessity.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief, “don’t worry, I won’t hold your stapler hostage for too long. I wouldn’t want to disrupt the flow of your productivity.”

You watch with wary eyes as he walks back to his desk, stapling some small, tiny note of sorts before walking right back, handing the paper and the stapler to you.

“What’s this?” You raise a brow.

“Some paper work for you to fill out,” he grins, the vagueness of his answer making a vein all but pop in your forehead.

Before you even have a chance to tell him that you most certainly will not be entertaining whatever silly prank he’s playing, he walks right off, sagging into his chair as he does an obnoxious little spin and goes back to typing at his computer. Probably yet another email with a ridiculous ending, you think to yourself.

Against your better judgement, you stare at the note, eyeing the small flap he’s stapled over an index card. You lift it up, quickly scanning over his scribbled writing.

Want to grab coffee during lunch? Check your answer:

▢ yes! ▢ absolutely! ▢ most definitely!

Your eye twitches.

Grabbing a pen, you quickly add a box underneath his (very confident) options, checking it off and writing in neat, pristine handwriting:

▣ not a chance!

You stand, walking over to his desk and ignoring his perked up, excited little smile as you drop the note back on the table and head back to your own desk. A tiny wave of satisfaction weaves through your body when you notice him read over your response and deflate, a small pout forming over his lips.

Regretfully, a small part of you can’t help but acknowledge that he’s actually…kind of cute when his lips are curled like that. But a larger part of you shakes that thought away and cringes internally. It’s a shame his personality ruins the genetic blessings he seems to have been bestowed with.

And you think that’s the end of it—but of course, with someone like Satoru in the office, there’s never the end of anything.

You watch as an email pops up on your screen, opening it only to stare blankly at his name and roll your eyes at the subject line:

────────────────────────

Follow-Up on Submitted Paperwork

Greetings office neighbor,

Thank you for submitting the paperwork. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but notice that it does not fully align with the outlined guidelines. Could you please provide clarification or revise the submission accordingly?

Thanks a million,

Gojo Satoru :)

────────────────────────

And there he goes again with those obnoxious sign-offs, you think bitterly. Instantly, you’re clicking away at your keyboard as you type back an agitated response. Of course, you really shouldn’t entertain his ridiculous schemes, but something about him gets under your skin enough that you simply can’t help yourself.

You huff in approval at your response as you read it over before hitting send.

Instantly, as if he was waiting, you see his hand reach for his mouse and click on his screen to open your email as his eyes scan over your reply:

────────────────────────

Thank you for reaching out,

Unfortunately, I was unable to fully adhere to the outlined guidelines, as they are not viable in this situation. To address this, I adjusted the submission to align more effectively with a more practical outcome.

Hope that helps!

Your office neighbor :)

────────────────────────

Just when you think he’s given up, he rolls his chair over to your desk, causing a couple of annoyed heads to tilt up and glare at him for the noise before turning their attention back to their work. You pinch your nose as his chair rolls to a stop in front of your desk.

“Yes?” You grit through your teeth.

“Hey, office neighbor,” he hums, “just wanted to clarify your most recent email with you. I’m a bit confused.”

“Which part confused you?” You bat your lashes in faux charm, sarcastically smiling at him as he hums, grabbing a piece of candy from your little bowl of sweets at your desk and helping himself.

Your eye twitches a little at the gesture. Those are for you to enjoy throughout a miserable work day.

“Um…” he trails off as he pretends to think, “I’d say all of it.”

“I see,” you nod slowly, fighting every bone in your body not to snap at him with a colorful choice of words. “Essentially, the options in your original document did not highlight a plausible set of deliverables, so I corrected them for you with a more realistic one. Make sense?”

“Not really,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to scratch his head in confusion. You want nothing more than to grab those snowy locks and slam his face into your paper shredder. “Could you go over it one more time? I’m still lost.”

You’re just about to lose your patience with him when suddenly, the entire office seems to collectively take in a sharp breath, everyone scrambling to look as productive as possible while a tall, older looking man with suspiciously familiar white hair and blue eyes walks through the office. Something in your brain sets off alarm bells, but you can’t quite completely piece it together what it is about him seems so….recognizable.

“Who’s that?” You frown, scrunching your nose in confusion as everyone straightens up.

“That would be the final boss,” he snorts. You roll your eyes at his word choice before blinking and straightening up yourself.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, voice a panicked whisper as you ask, “you mean the owner of this company?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, raising a brow at you in amusement. “Never seen him before?”

“No,” you hiss, “I’m just the intern! Now go back to your desk before he thinks we’re goofing off, I’d like to keep my job, please.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he hums.

You send him a nasty glare, just about at your wits end as you whisper-yell, “I am going to throw my stapler right at your—”

“Satoru, I need you in my office,” comes a stern, deep voice, interrupting you as you quickly shut your mouth.

“You got it, old man,” he salutes in mock seriousness. Suddenly, your spine goes rigid and your eyes widen. The man walks off with a firm nod as Satoru stands, giving you an innocent smile.

Suddenly, it dawns on you just why he looked so strikingly familiar.

“Did you just call him old man?” You blink, mouth agape.

“Yup,” he winks, walking backwards as his eyes stay trained on you while he heads for the elevator. “I’ll put in a good word for you when he’s in a better mood at home tonight. I think we can discuss the specifics over coffee during our lunch hour, yeah?”

[nxtt2-u]

kink headcanons ft. OT8 SKZ !

content info — ot8 (individual) x afab!reader, 3.6k words, smut, established relationship in all scenarios

content warnings — nsfw, a shit ton of kinks and scenarios about them, kinks will not be specified to prevent spoiling, swearing, intentional lowercase

notes — this was actually meant for kinktober ‘24, but i clearly never got around to finishing it… whoops. here we are a whopping four months later; enjoy! not proofread. 18+ only, mdni.

★ ──── BANGCHAN

a switch, but leans heavily on the dominant side. usually a service dom, but can get a little mean sometimes.

⤷ BREEDING.

chan gets off so badly to the fantasy of fucking his babies into you. one night when he’s pounding into you with a condom on, he begins to babble when his orgasm draws near — “you’d look so fucking gorgeous all round with my children, baby, fuck!” and you clamp down on him so hard he has half the mind to think his cock might snap in half as he experiences the strongest orgasm of his life. so yeah, it’s safe to say you got on birth control right away & threw away all condoms after that.

⤷ PRAISE.

he loves to whisper sweet things into your ear as he gently pushes into your cunt from behind after a busy schedule. chan loves how you gush around him when his murmured words, coated in sickeningly sweet honey, flow into your ears as he wholly takes you apart with his hands and cock. he loves it even more when you praise him as well! it has a special effect on him when you’re riding him especially — the praise sends his dick jerking within your tight heat as his knees wobble and he keens into where his face is mushed between your tits.

⤷ FACE FUCKING.

this man loathes to hurt you, but when you give him head one time and he accidentally thrusts too deep into your mouth, he can’t help the way he positively throbs at the wet click your throat gives when it constricts around his tip. when you feel the twitch, you moan & quickly pull off just to give him permission to fuck your throat before taking his cock back into your mouth and waiting patiently. the sight and sound of you deepthroating him is so erotic that when he comes, he genuinely gets lightheaded and has to sit down afterward before he collapses from the intensity of his orgasm.

⤷ BONUS!

his fav position is definitely riding. quick, act surprised! he loves to see you work up a sweat in his lap while you struggle to take his cock to the hilt. its so endearingly hot, the way you plea and whine for him to help you work his dick inside, but he just chuckles n pats your ass as a signal to keep going. maybe, if he feels merciful enough, he’ll flip you over when your legs really do give out and pound you til you’re full of his cum.

★ ──── MINHO

dom & brat tamer. has subbed only once with you and liked it so much he got too scared to try it again.

⤷ BONDAGE.

minho often restrains your wrists with his belt or a silk tie he owns when you get particularly bratty with him. he holds them behind your back as he slams into you from behind, and the sight of you restrained just for him, creaming all over his cock despite the rough treatment he loves to dish out, has him seeing stars when he pulls out to come on your back.

⤷ IMPACT PLAY.

it’s no secret minho loves ass: slapping ass, grabbing ass, pretty much anything to do with ass. so it’s no surprise when his palm harshly crashes down on the supple curve of your cheeks when he gives you backshots for the first time. you jolt at the sudden sting, though it burns wonderfully when he does it again. and again. and again, until your skin is red and thoroughly raw once he’s done with you. as your relationship goes on, he eventually begins to slap your pretty face as well, though he’s much more gentle about that. on your rear, however? no mercy.

⤷ SOMNOPHILIA.

min loves nothing more than coming home to you dozing peacefully in those specific sleep shorts, a sign you’re his for the night. even if he’s horribly exhausted from a long day, the sight of you deep asleep and utterly pliant for him has the cogs in his mind gearing into something primal with how much arousal shoots to his cock. he wastes no time in prowling across the room to harshly push the gusset of the fabric aside and immediately slide himself home when he discovers you’re commando and already soaking wet. there’s no way you stay asleep at such rough handling, of course, but that won’t make him stop anytime soon!

⤷ BONUS!

he enjoys anal. when you were out the house, he took one of your dildos in secret and experimented with it on his own, and came out pleasantly surprised. not only does he enjoy it with himself, he also loves anal with you — especially when he gets home after a long day of work to find you all dolled up for him. his cock jerks in his pants when he reaches down to grope your ass in appreciation, only to discover a plug snug between your cheeks. he’d never admit it out loud, but it gets him super riled up to see the way your hole gapes and sputters when he’s done with you.

★ ──── CHANGBIN

a switch, but leans slightly onto the subby side.

⤷ FREE USE.

bin loves to see when you come home from a long, frustrating day at work. he loves to see your eyes darken when you notice the special bracelet on his wrist that shares an unmistakable sign between the two of you, and he loves it even more when you storm across the living room to shove him back onto the couch and pop open the button of his jeans without a word to sink down on his cock like you own it, own him. nothing else gets him harder than when you simply take and use him like your own personal toy!

⤷ PEGGING.

although he does enjoy pegging, the two of you don’t dabble in this often — simply because you much prefer his cock down your throat or in your pussy, milking him dry. but when he does feel subby enough to offer his ass up, it usually leads to very tender lovemaking rather than hard, rough sex. he just gets so soft and needy in this headspace when you peg him, so eager to feel good! in missionary, he often pops a tit into his mouth to softly suckle at as you thrust into him leisurely from above. but it’s never long before he starts babbling and begging you for more!

⤷ ROLEPLAY.

something about taboo roleplays get binnie going like no other: age gaps, power imbalances, and even cheating get his cock rock hard in seconds when the two of you play in the bedroom. recently, the two of you had roleplayed as professor and student. “ah, professor, are you sure this is the best way to get extra credit..?” you’d peered down at him as he eased your short skirt and panties down your legs, chuckling at your bashful behavior. “of course, bun,” he’d sighed, leaning in to press a kiss to your sopping core before meeting your eyes again with a smirk. “your grades will be up in no time if you just spread those pretty legs for your professor, hm? now go on, i’m waiting.”

⤷ BONUS!

loves double penetration, both on him and you. it drives him crazy to see you struggle to take both his coke can of a cock in your cunt and a silicone replica of it down your throat at the same time. watching your cheeks hollow obscenely around the replica has his cock kicking within your walls as you moan around it, and it quickly has him bending your legs to your chest to pound you properly. on the flip side of the coin, he loves how full he feels when you plug his ass and fuck his throat with your strap; it gets his head all floaty n pliant for you in a heartbeat!

★ ──── HYUNJIN

walking definition of a switch. sadist & masochist. can get pretty bratty when he subs.

⤷ BREATH PLAY.

hyunjin loves the tantalizing pressure of your palm against his neck, especially when you ride him so hard he’s practically seeing stars. whether that’s from how hard your ass is slamming down onto his muscled thighs or from the growing asphyxiation, he’s too deliciously lightheaded to even think about it when the two of you go hard like this in bed. when you give his neck one generous squeeze, it has his whole body locking up and him coming instantly with no warning other than a broken, guttural cry. on the other hand, he gets an intense power trip when he chokes you — the way your jaw drops as you gasp for breath when his grip tightens and your pretty eyes roll back to show the whites is so intoxicating to him! he’ll never be able to get enough of the sight.

⤷ TEMPERATURE PLAY.

the way you squirm beneath him is just so cute when hyune rubs ice across your perky nipples while his hot, hard cock spears you open at the same time! when the cubes slip off your breasts onto the sheets beside you, the warmth of his breath fanning over the cold area when he leans down has you squealing and kicking your legs out in protest — but he catches those easily and wraps them around his slender waist to laugh down at how sensitive and responsive you are for him.

⤷ COCK & BALL TORTURE.

the delicious sting hyunjin feels when you slap his cock sends his body shuddering and eyes rolling. his toes curl when you tug harshly on his sensitive balls before rearing your hand back to smack the head of his weeping cock, forcing his hips to kick off the bed with the searing pleasure-pain that has his brain reeling and nervous system going haywire. especially loves when you bust out some cock rings — it’s a perfect night for him when you ride his cock raw, denying him of his orgasm while you have your fun, until he can finally cum inside after hours of his balls being squeezed tight to stave off his orgasm.

BONUS!

big big big fan of markings, both on himself and you! he’s constantly biting marks into the tender skin just below your boobs and the soft inner areas of your thighs when he goes down on you. he really loves it when he gets time off so you can mark him up properly on his neck, particularly below his jaw, so he can go a few days without having to conceal it with makeup and wear and flaunt them properly. his favorite place to mark you, though, is your hips and chest. gets a huge ego boost when he sees them peeking out of your shirt when you wear a low-cut top, and he’s extra smug when you get home later that day to refresh them.

★ ──── JISUNG

sub, sub, sub! rarely doms, and even when he does “dom” it’s more or less him acting the same as usual — like a princess — with the only difference being him doing all the work for once. big masochist.

⤷ MOMMY KINK.

there’s rarely a moment in bed where jisung doesn’t call you mommy. like the sweet boy he is, he always asks you for permission before he does anything. “mommy, please let me suck your tits? i promise i won’t touch myself without your permission, pleaseee?” and with those sweet doe eyes of his, how could you say no? he gets pretty babbly when he’s balls deep in your pussy and his head is mushed between your tits as he whines and cries out his thanks, how good he feels — he’s simply too obsessed with you!

⤷ DEGRADATION.

jisung nearly cums in his pants when you talk down to him like he’s worth nothing to you, like he’s the dirt on the bottom of your shoes. he can’t stop the breathy moans slipping from his dropped jaw when you jerk his slick cock, whispering words in his ears that should humiliate him, but only results in more burning hot arousal pooling deep in his stomach and his balls tightening, eager to spill all over the tight grip of your hand. all his efforts to hold off his orgasm go to waste, though, when you call him a “worthless, good for nothing slut” that has his body abruptly convulsing and cries tumbling from his lips as he cums all the way up to his heaving chest.

⤷ PAIN KINK.

he gets delirious with pleasure when you slap his face or spank him when he’s misbehaved a little too much for your liking. if you pair a harsh slap to his cute, chubby little cheeks with a mean slew of insults to his face as he fucks you in missionary, he’ll wind up keening so loud he has to bury his face in your neck to muffle the sound, lest you get a noise complaint from the neighbors in the morning. the sting of getting hit has so much blood rushing from his head to his cock in an instant that he gets dizzy with how good he feels, every. single. time.

⤷ BONUS!

this man is a munch. he eats you out at any opportunity like a man starved, fast and messy, just the way both you & him love. tug on his hair n it’ll have his eyes rolling as he buries his face into your cunt, eagerly lapping up your the juices that soak his chin with a whine while his hips buck involuntarily against the mattress. degrade him too, n he just might cum in his pants right then n there!

★ ──── FELIX

dom. doesn’t mind subbing if you ask, but it’s generally not his go-to.

⤷ ORGASM DENIAL.

this man is a little shit who adores bringing you right to the edge before ripping your orgasm out of your grasp with a delighted smirk. as soon as he rips whatever he was using on you away, whether it be his fingers or a toy, the way you convulse in protest and plead at him with watery eyes gets him so hot he nearly cums on the spot, even if nothing is actively stimulating his dick. he just loves to tease, what can he say?

⤷ SENSORY DEPRIVATION.

felix has no qualms with playing with you for hours when he blindfolds you and, sometimes, even plugs your ears when he really wants to get you on edge. seeing your breath quicken in anticipation for what he’ll do to you has his cock chubbing up in record time in the tight confines of his boxers, and the sight of you all docile and restrained for him has him half considering the idea of dropping the ties just to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck your brains out. but he always reins himself in just before he can fold, for you always look much prettier disheveled and begging for him to end the teasing and give you what you want.

⤷ HUMILIATION.

he loves making you cream all over his cock just to spew absolute filth at you for it. he can feel his sanity disappearing bit by bit when he gets to witness firsthand the way you slip into subspace at his vulgar, demeaning words in that deep voice of his, and it only gets him hotter when you begin to cry and beg him incoherently. for what, he isn’t quite sure because you’re too far gone to even speak properly anymore, but he’ll make sure you have all you need when you start clawing desperately at his shoulders with a beautiful, full-body shudder.

⤷ BONUS!

he’s lowkey a brat tamer! it gets him so riled up when you purposefully dress in your skimpiest clothes for the group nights you spend going out with the other guys, just to elicit a reaction out of him when you get home. and boy, is that reaction dangerous. he watches you like a hawk throughout the night, tongue constantly poking his cheek in annoyance while his jaw ticks when he sees you laughing with one of his members. he knows he has no real reason to be jealous, especially when he’s already aware you’re just looking to be put in your place, but that won’t stop him from taking all that emotion out on your cunt when everyone leaves later.

★ ──── SEUNGMIN

switch. he doesn’t have a preference & simply enjoys it all.

⤷ EXHIBITIONISM.

the adrenaline rush seungmin gets when he fucks you on the floor of their dance practice room once everyone’s gone for the day is so fucking heady and addictive. the thought of one of his members walking in to find him blowing your back out in the middle of the room is so arousing that he fucks you practically ten times harder than usual when the two of you mess around in semi-public places like this. one time, when you did happen to get caught blowing him backstage right before a soundcheck, his eyes had blown impossibly wide before he spilled down your throat with a choked groan. the two of you were horribly mortified after the fact, but he still secretly gets off to that memory when he’s away on tour.

⤷ DUMBIFICATION.

seeing you gradually lose coherency the longer he has you warm his cock while he busies himself with other tasks is one of his favorite pastimes. “hey, pup,” seungmin taps your shoulder delicately as he lightly jostles you in his lap, causing a moan to flutter from between your lips. when he grabs your chin to press a chaste kiss to the corners of your mouth, he nearly moans aloud too when he pulls back and sees how fucking gone you look. eyes fuzzy, pretty lips pulled into a dopey smile, and pussy stretched warm and wet around his now-throbbing cock. it’s insane to practice restraint with how sweet you look like this. “since you’ve been so good for me, i have a reward for you. how’s that sound, baby?”

⤷ PET PLAY.

when you come home after an outing with your friends to discover seungmin perched on the couch in nothing but the collar with your name attached to it and some dangerously low black sweats, you can’t help but drag him to the bedroom to leash him and force him to sit at your feet while you finish up some papers at your desk. he’s obedient for a little while, like he always is, until he starts getting antsy and whines for your attention. you pay him no mind until he begins to nose at the crotch of your bottoms, eager for a treat, and who are you to deny your sweet puppy a snack after he’s been so good and obedient for you?

⤷ BONUS!

he owns multiple different colored collars that have your name engraved onto the tags as well as a human-sized dog bed to pair with them. when he particularly craves submission, he’ll ask to be leashed and rode in the dog bed because it brings him an odd sense of comfort: being someone’s so wholly that he’s willing to wear a collar to show off who he belongs to, who owns him.

★ ──── JEONGIN

generally a dom. when he does sub, it’s nothing too crazy.

⤷ BEGGING.

jeongin loves to drive you to the point of incoherency with his mouth, hands, cock: all of it! it goes straight to both his dick and his ego when you’re reduced down to broken, babbling cries that beg him for more, less, harder, faster — somehow you plea for them all at once. he can’t get enough of how much you seem to love his body and the pleasure it can provide.

⤷ DACRYPHILIA.

it drives him insane when he sees you writhing with so much pleasure that it actually brings you to tears. every time your pretty eyes begin to water with unshed tears from the unforgiving pace he sets as he pounds into your poor cunt, it makes a loud moan rip from his throat and his dick twitch within your walls, and he may even nearly cum on the spot. he absolutely loves the sight of you desperate and babbling for his cum, and he’s not afraid to show it.

⤷ CORRUPTION KINK.

both of you were the farthest thing from inexperienced or vanilla when you first started dating, but that doesn’t stop jeongin from fucking his fist late at night to the fantasy he was your first. the first man to take your virginity, show you how to ride cock and suck on one, even teach you how to have your first orgasm because you’d been too unsure of yourself in the past to even try. the thought of you being pure and untouched before meeting him makes him ache with arousal, particularly at the thought of corrupting and ruining you for any other man because he just fucks you so good that both of you know you’d never be able to reach the same peaks of pleasure he brings you to again and again with anyone else.

⤷ BONUS!

he really enjoys 69ing. when he’s on top, he loves the sensation of his cock sliding down your throat and the clicking of your throat as it tries to accommodate his length. he loves the way your juices coat his chin as he messily slurps and sucks on your clit, and especially loves the way your thighs shake beside his ears when you get close. when he’s on the bottom, he adores the way you push your hips back onto his face to grind your clit down on his tongue, and adores the way you slip his cock into your mouth until you’re gagging around the tip and your tongue is laving hot and wetly at his balls. the rapid tightening of your throat around his dick has him close in seconds, but even if he comes early he’ll eat you out til you’re shaking with satisfaction.

[hannibalised]

When Simon “You're ruining my tough guy personality” Riley falls in love with “Is the tough guy between us right now ?” Reader

“Pookie boy,” You chirp in, beaming when Simon looks up at you from his file; his face relaxed, eyes drawn softly, and a warm halo of held back smile glowing underneath.

Until Simon realises, and glares. “Simon.”

“Yeah no shit sherlock,” you scoff, “In office with Price. With the records, ofcourse.”

Simon is invincible. Nothing gets under his skin, or rattles his bones in this uncharted dance he never signed up — but...

“Babyboy, the report is due tommorow, remember aye ?” you tap on his desk, and Simon is undone as the poets say.

He is incoherent. Torn between the molten heat spreading through his face, his cheeks getting warmer that it should, and to tell you off because he doesn't like it, right ?

“What ?” you tilt your head.

“I remember.” he barely whispers, picking open the file to hide his hot pink face.

“Good boy.” you grin, leaving his desk.

It goes on.

“Baby” while leaving his coffee, and a set of relentless emoji assault over phone later on.

A dangerous successful attempt at picking off a fallen lash from his cheek, and “Ghostieboo make a wish.”

He feels electric, charged with the brush of your finger on his face.

A moment. He realises, and glares. “It ain't comein true if ya gonna gut it outta meh.”

“So you made a wish ?”

“Bye.”

“Okay bye Cutiee patootie.” you boop his nose, smiling sweetly.

He absolutely isn't giving in to your shameless acts of booping his nose and calling him cute.

Simon Riley isn't a pookie, or baby, or loverboy, or say cutiee patootie.

And definitely not ghostieboo.

Just because he doesn't glare anymore or scoff doesn't mean he is accepting your silly little names and your silly lovely ways.

It's completely unrelated when his eyes are transfixed at the glass door to see your face just once ( he is unaware you've taken a day off )

Simon is NOT missing you dreadfully NOR his ears are dying to hear your voice OR he feels terribly in heart.

“Missing meh, Pookie ?” Johnny mocks in a very bad intimation of your voice, snickering while ducking the plastic box launched at him.

“Daft.” Simon mutters, quickly glancing at the door with disappointment because you're not there again, barging in with too sweet coffee — turning his world upside down, teaching him a secret language, drowning him in your bright vivid colours.

“Yer daft,” Johnny says, “What ya' missing is chilllin at er’ home...so text if you're so dying idiot instead looking like a kicked pup.”

“Says the dog with tongue rolled out” He remarks, mindlessly pulling out his phone and losing himself to reading old chats in your maddening absence.

You're truly a menace.

He finally scrolls down towards the end. Flexes his knuckles, then looks up at Johnny who's too busy grinning into his phone.

Simon licks his lips, conceals back the smile like it might screenshot itself and reach you on it's own.

He sends a simple hey, and with twitching nervous hands types the second text.

He is double texting now. He is fucked.

The three dots of typing pops up and Simon who has never played minecraft finds out what having half an heart feels like.

He watches nervously as your reply comes.

His heart skips a beat, he can hear it in your voice. It's so close inside him, like his own feeble heartbeat.

Simon's mouth twists, rush of something bundled like loves flows in him. His joy is so unwild and untamed, that his whole face illuminates with it.

Burning and aching and intoxicating.

“Stop blushing and drooling, puppy.”

He looks up, flash blinds him with a followed clicking sound.

Oh.

Oh.

“Johnny NO !” Simon jumps out of his seat to chase him, and Johnny is running out with his phone clutched in iron grip.

“I got paid for this mate !” Johnny yells out.

Simon cuts off and covers his face with sweaty palms. He is surprised himself when a soft, light hearted chuckle breaks out.

Pookie. Whatever. He is entirely fucked. You have undone him now, completely and incandescently.

You're truly a menace. His menace.

And lord, he misses you so much.

Masterlist

[deikshen]

The Shen Yuan that dies - really dies. He actually dies and doesn't transmigrate, but well, you know, death is a timeless thing and the flow of time itself in the world of the dead is so weird lol So, well, let me make up that all the demons and ghost kings and cultivators inhabit this powerful timeless space where the dead also go, and oh, there's Shen Yuan now -

So, Shen Yuan is just a silly ghost fire filled with pent-up rage, damn shitty novel, damn shitty author. Is he “alive” for something? Because of how much he hates PIDW and its fucked up ending. Get a lower-ranking ghost body because he's just... angry at Airplane. His new form is, ah, well, different and weird, but he can grow his hair to go unnoticed, and can steal some robes.

Get a small job eventually just because he was bored and although he don't need to eat, it would be nice to have extra money - and the tea house owner doesn't care if he's a human or a ghost as long as he's not creepy with the customers and serves their tables. It's a routine that gives him the quick financial support to get bad books, complain more - and maybe he's getting stronger because of it? Because of his anger at mediocre authors and repressed anger? Does it even make sense?

At some point, Tonglu opens. Shen Yuan has headaches and the desperate feeling that he must go, as if he summoned. He tells his boss he's going to be out for ghostly reasons - his boss is like, oh, you needed a vacation anyway. And Shen Yuan goes.

It's a massacre, of course. A mix between the Hunger Games and the Purge, but Shen Yuan has something they definitely don't: a lot of knowledge in shooting video games. And he doesn't have a gun, but hey, he can shoot resentful spiritual energy and it works like bullets or something - he soon discovers that the more ghosts he overcomes, he becomes stronger. He has more power to throw, more skills, a stronger body.

Go to the kiln. Have bloody fights. At some point he gets a sword and it takes him forever and nothing like a training sequence to use it properly. And finally, the kiln opens and Shen Yuan comes out looking... Well, stronger.

He returns to the teahouse to change and take a bath. The owner tells him that it's been thirteen years, what the hell, but lets him in and gives him hot water and clothes.

Shen Yuan's new body and new abilities are strange to him. He notices himself taller. Stronger. His hearing and smell have improved. His abilities seem to be more wordy, as if he could persuade people if he spoke to them in a specific tone, as if his words could bind them. Well, it's not a bad way to be dead.

Shen Yuan tries to continue working at the tea house, but the humans are clearly terrified by the powerful ghost king aura in their area, so there are hardly any customers. Shen Yuan just sighs and decides to leave. He has some savings anyway.

Ghosts run away from him. Humans either try to kill him or hide. Shen Yuan is fed up; no matter if it is in the mortal world or the ghost world, people are gossiping about him and how he has not taken a Territory, about how unorthodox he is, about how they are waiting for him to start his killing spree one day.

Shen Yuan learns to change his appearance from creepy ghost to normal human, hide his resentful energy, and camouflage himself in the human world. It's a long way from his old tea house, and so many years have passed that the kind owner has probably already died, so Shen Yuan gets another job at a bookstore. Nothing unusual. Just a boy who was once from a wealthy family and was disinherited when his older brother took over the family leadership because of their bad relationship. Now he must work to live.

People swallow that story like a good meal, some even feel sorry for him.

And Shen Yuan is having a decent afterlife. Boring, mostly, but with good days. He reads a lot, gets angry a lot, writes authors letters that reach their desks without them even realizing how the hell did this crazy guy find his addresses. Let's just say he's having an interesting life.

Then one day, he meets Luo Binghe.

He... He literally knows that he's Binghe. It couldn't be anyone else but Luo Binghe. He does his investigations, and apparently, Emperor Luo Binghe exists, he has been there all along. It's not like Shen Yuan knew it; the ghost realm and the human-demon realm are divided, and even if they have a common mortal ancestor, demons and ghosts don't usually meddle in their own things.

Not that Shen Yuan wants to be cannon fodder anyway; he keeps his distance in Binghe, works at that bookstore, gives friendly greetings to his customers, and keeps sending angry letters to authors.

And one day Shen Yuan receives a direct visit from Luo Binghe at his door. With a letter in his hand.

"This letter was on my Second Wife's desk," Luo Binghe says, with a fake smile. "No one but her can open or read it, so this Lord wonders after discovering the resentful energy signature on the paper, what missives does this Ghost King exchange with one of the Emperor's wives?"

Shen Yuan is not surprised that Luo Binghe knows who he is - ever so OP the Protagonist! However, it is more difficult to explain that his wife actually writes cut-sleeved novels that the fact that Shen Yuan was reading and criticizing them in the first place.

Well, he's been dead for over a hundred years, really denying that he's at least bisexual at this point in his life...

[inseobts]

Hello!!! i hope you're doing well! if you have a lot of requests in your inbox you can ignore this!! no pressure to write it!! can i request a Law fic? i know you don't write smut but can it be a little bit spicy? Nothing detailed obviously!! just Law trying to act calm and collected but is obvious he's acting more shy and like a nervous mess when kissing gets more heated with reader. it's fine if you don't want to write it don't worry!! have a nice dayy!! :)

Under the Surface

trafalgar law x gn!reader

a/n: I love a challenge (to try write smut and fail), hope you like it lmao

tags: spicy, teasing, flustered law, tension, crew banter, light NSFW, suggestive, no graphic body part descriptions

word count: 3.6k

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The crew is loud tonight. Everyone’s packed around the long dining table on the Polar Tang, plates full, drinks flowing, and stories getting more ridiculous by the minute.

You’re sitting beside Law, who is trying to act like he’s above it all, sipping quietly from his cup, gaze half-lidded like he’s bored. He’s not laughing. Not even smirking.

But you are. Because you know exactly what your hand is doing under the table.

He flinched the first time your fingers brushed along his thigh. Now he’s breathing slow and controlled, jaw locked, pretending like he’s listening to Shachi’s story about how Bepo fell off a crate trying to do a handstand.

You lean closer to Law, voice light “You okay?”

“I’m fine…” he says, through gritted teeth.

Your fingers trail higher, slow circles through the fabric of his pants. His leg twitches.

“You look a little tense, Captain” you whisper, eyes still on your plate.

“Y/N…” he warns low, barely audible.

But you ignore him and laugh at Penguin’s joke like nothing’s happening, even grabbing your drink and joining in the toast. Your hand keeps working slow, barely touching now, more suggestion than pressure. Just enough to drive him insane.

Law’s back is straight as a sword, fingers digging into his knee under the table. His other hand is still on his cup, but he hasn’t taken a sip in minutes.

Then comes the first comment.

“Captain,” Bepo says with a concerned look “Are you okay? You’re, um… kind of red.”

“I’m fine” Law mutters.

“You sure?” Shachi leans in “You’re sweating. Kinda a lot.”

“I said I’m—”

“Do you have a fever?” Penguin asks, already reaching for Law’s wrist “We should check your pulse.”

“Don’t!” Law snaps, jerking back so fast his chair scrapes the floor.

Everyone freezes. The whole table goes silent.

You slowly take a bite of your food, hiding your grin behind your fork.

“Damn,” Shachi blinks “Touchy much?”

Law’s face is flushed. He stands stiff, like he’s about to either scream or teleport away with Room. He glares at you from the side, eyes narrow.

You tilt your head innocently “Something wrong, Captain?”

His fists are clenched. You can see he’s this close to snapping. But he’s trying so hard to hold it together.

He mutters something under his breath and storms out of the dining room, black coat covering his body and swishing behind him.

The crew stares.

“…What the hell was that about?” Penguin asks.

You shrug, biting back a laugh “No idea. Maybe he really is sick.”

Bepo frowns “I’ll go check on him.”

You reach out and stop him, gently “Give him a minute. He probably needs to cool down.”

You don’t miss the way your fingers are still tingling. And you definitely don’t miss the way Law looked at you before he left.

He’s going to snap.

You hope he does.

You give it two minutes. Maybe three. Long enough for the crew to stop talking about Law’s dramatic exit and start arguing about who gets the last piece of meat.

Then you grab his untouched plate, lift it like it’s the most innocent excuse in the world, and say, “I’ll take this to the Captain. If he is sick, someone should make sure he eats.”

Bepo nods “Good idea. He doesn’t take care of himself.”

You’re already out the door.

It’s quiet in the hall. The ship hums faintly under your feet. You take your time walking to his quarters, balancing the plate in one hand, other hand in your pocket, still feeling the thrill of earlier buzzing under your skin.

You knock.

No answer.

You open the door slowly. His room is dim, the desk light on, a few papers scattered. But no sign of him.

You hear the faint sound of running water.

Bathroom door: closed.

You smirk and walk up to it, knuckles tapping twice.

“Brought your dinner. Thought I’d check on your pulse myself.”

Silence.

You lean against the door casually “You okay in there, Captain?”

More silence. Then, barely audible over the sink, a frustrated growl.

You grin “Need a hand?”

That’s when it happens.

The door slams open so fast you nearly drop the plate.

Law stands there, hoodie half off, hair a mess, eyes wild. His breathing is heavy, and he looks like he’s been pacing or… well. You’re not sure. But he is definitely not calm.

“You think this is funny?” he hisses, voice low and dangerous.

You blink “A little.”

He steps forward. You step back, the plate pressed between you like a ridiculous shield.

“Don’t play cute” he says, crowding you until your back hits the wall beside the door. His hand comes up, not touching, just near your head, trapping you.

“I’ve been trying,” he grits out, “trying to stay in control.”

Your eyes flick down to his mouth “Not doing a great job, to be honest.”

His breath stutters.

You reach up, brushing your fingers lightly against the bare skin at his waist, where his hoodie’s ridden up.

“Want me to stop?” you ask softly.

His jaw clenches. His whole body is tense, like one more word will shatter him.

But he doesn’t say no.

You lean in just enough to whisper against his ear, “Or do you want me to really mess with you now that we’re alone?”

That’s when he snaps.

He shoves the plate out of your hands onto the nearest dresser (not gently), grabs your face with both hands, and crashes his lips onto yours like he’s been starved.

It’s rough, messy, needy. His fingers dig into your jaw, your hair, like he can’t decide where to hold you. He kisses like he’s furious about wanting you this much.

And you love every second of it.

When you finally pull back for air, he’s still breathing hard, forehead pressed to yours.

“Happy now?” he mutters.

You smile, wicked and breathless “Getting there.”

After the kiss, Law pulls away like he just remembered who he is.

Like kissing you was a lapse in judgment and now he’s got to put the walls back up again.

He takes a breath, straightens his hoodie, walks past you like nothing happened, and picks up a book from his desk. Calm. Composed. Like he didn’t just kiss you like he was going to lose his mind.

He sinks into the couch beside the bed and flips the book open, one leg crossed over the other. Eyes on the page. Completely still.

“Seriously?” you ask, staring at him.

He doesn’t look up “I have work to do.”

You blink “You kissed me like you were starving and now you’re pretending a book is more interesting?”

“I didn’t pretend anything” he mutters. Still not looking at you.

That’s when you walk over, slow.

You stand in front of him, reach down, and snap the book shut, sliding it clean out of his hands before he can react.

“Hey—”

You drop the book on the table, then climb onto his lap like you belong there. His hands lift instinctively but hover near your hips like he’s not sure where to touch.

You straddle him, close enough to feel the way his breath catches in his throat.

“Still trying to act calm?” you murmur, voice low.

His hands land on your waist finally, warm and tense “Y/N…”

You lean in and kiss him harder this time. Deep. Like you’re calling him out with every second your lips stay on his. And just like before, he starts out trying to stay in control. Soft pressure. Careful lips.

But he slips.

Again.

His hands grip tighter. He kisses you back with that same hungry tension, but there’s something different this time, he’s not quite in control of it anymore. His breath is ragged, his movements uneven, and when your tongue brushes his, he actually lets out the softest sound, almost a whimper, and freezes like he didn’t mean for it to happen.

You pull back just enough to speak.

“You always this quiet when you’re hard?”

His eyes widen slightly. You feel it… solid and pressing against you now, through the fabric between you. No hiding it.

He tries to speak, but nothing comes out right away.

You roll your hips once, slow. Deliberate.

“Ah, dammit” he exhales, barely above a whisper, eyes fluttering shut for half a second.

You grin “Still fine, Captain?”

“I swear to god—” he mutters, voice cracking halfway through it.

You lean down, lips brushing his neck now, right by his ear “You’re shaking.”

His grip on your waist tightens. But his body’s betraying him as his hips are twitching like he wants more, even as he tries to stay still.

You kiss him again, slower now, but deeper. And when you grind against him just right, you feel him gasp against your mouth, tiny, quiet, desperate.

He’s trying so hard not to lose it.

You’re not going to let him win.

You slow the kiss, soften it just a little.

Less teasing now. Less push, more pull. Your hands move up his chest, under the fabric of his hoodie, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. He’s still tense, still trembling slightly under your touch, but he lets you guide him.

Your fingers trail up, and you reach for the hat.

“Wait—” he mutters, voice tight, hands twitching like he might stop you.

But you already have it in your hand.

You pull his hat off gently and set it aside, only to freeze the moment your eyes meet him.

His black hair is a mess. Fluffy in a way it should never be allowed to look. Slight curls at the ends from being under the hat too long, with a few messy strands of white near his temples that make your chest ache.

He looks younger like this. Softer. More human. But somehow, hotter too, like the sharp edges of Law are finally undone and all that’s left is a man trying too hard to keep his control.

And failing.

You blink hard “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“What?” he says, confused.

You run a hand through his hair, slow and almost dazed “You’re not allowed to look like this. Not after everything.”

His brow furrows “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I just remembered you’re too hot without the hat,” you mutter, almost annoyed “Now I’m the one losing focus.”

Law’s breath hitches. His eyes lock on yours like you just handed him a weapon.

Then he moves.

His hands come up, not rough, not rushed. Just decided. He touches the hem of your shirt and looks at you for permission.

You nod once, and he slowly pulls it up and off, letting it fall somewhere on the floor.

His eyes roam across your chest, hungry, quiet, intense.

The calm breaks again but differently this time.

He touches your waist first, then up your back, like he’s memorizing you with his hands. Then he kisses you again, softer than before, but deeper. Like he’s trying to thank you. Like he’s finally giving in, really giving in.

You feel his lips part against yours, his hands sliding up your sides, his breath ragged but quieter now with no more pretending. No more distance.

You’re not the only one losing focus anymore.

You don’t notice when the pace changes.

One moment it’s heavy breathing and hunger and heat between your bodies, and the next it’s different. Not cooler. Not less. Just… softer.

Law kisses your neck, slow and warm, like he has all the time in the world now. His fingers trail across your sides, not grabbing, not greedy anymore, just feeling you. Mapping you out gently, as if you might disappear.

His lips move up along your jaw, brushing your skin in the most delicate way, and you feel your breath catch but not because it’s hot, but because it’s him. All of him. Here.

“You always kiss like this?” you whisper, voice quieter now.

“No,” he murmurs, his lips pressing just under your ear “Only with you.”

You blink hard, your throat tightening at that. He keeps going. Your shoulders, your collarbone, your chest… each kiss slower than the last, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you with his mouth.

You tilt your head back and close your eyes.

Your hands move too, soft now, touching the hem of his hoodie again. You lift it carefully, and he lets you pull it over his head without a word.

His bare skin is warm under your palms, and when your fingers trace his tattoos, he shudders slightly, leaning into your touch.

“You act like this is the first time” you whisper.

“It feels like it,” he says, eyes meeting yours “Every time it’s with you.”

You swallow hard.

You reach for his pants. He stops you, just for a second, but not to push you away, but to undo the button himself. Then he leans forward, brushing a kiss across your stomach, your ribs, your chest again. It’s so soft it almost hurts.

You slide off his lap just enough to push your own pants down, and he follows your lead, hands trailing after yours like he doesn’t want to lose contact for a second.

You laugh softly, breathless “What happened to you being in control?”

His lips twitch into a ghost of a smile “You happened.”

Then he pulls you back in, chest to chest now, nothing between you but heat and skin and the kind of quiet tension that no longer needs teasing.

You run your fingers through his hair again, tugging gently. He groans against your throat, and your lips find his shoulder, biting just enough to make him hiss.

Soft, but still testing.

Still challenging.

His hands slide down your back, fingers curling around your hips “You keep doing that and I’m not staying soft for long.”

“Good…” you whisper into his skin.

The way he kisses you suddenly has more weight. Less caution, more need.

His hand slides up your back, slow and firm, guiding you closer. His breath is shaky, but not unsure. Not anymore.

You grind against him, gently at first. Testing.

He gasps against your lips, his hands gripping your hips tighter.

You lean back just enough to look at him. His eyes are half-lidded, mouth parted, flushed in the cheeks. Hair wild, jaw tight. He looks… wrecked. And you haven’t even really started yet.

“I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that” he mutters, voice low, rough.

You kiss him again, harder now, lips colliding with a heat that’s no longer slow or soft. Your bodies move with purpose, hips rolling together, bare skin brushing bare skin in a way that makes the air feel thick.

You can feel him hard and aching against you. There’s no hiding it, not with the way your hips press flush together, not with the way his hands keep trying to ground himself on you.

You rock forward again, and he groans into your mouth. His hands grip harder, trying to stay in control but you know he’s not. Not really.

“Y/N,” he breathes “If we… if you… are you sure?”

You nod without hesitation “I’ve never been more sure.”

He swallows, looking at you like you’re something holy. Then he kisses you again, deep and slow and full of everything he’s been holding back.

And then, finally, he moves.

Bodies shifting. Skin gliding.

The heat between you doesn’t explode, it builds. It rises like a wave, drawn out and aching. His body moves against yours with slow, careful rhythm at first, testing the pace, then faster when your moans start to slip past your lips, when your nails dig into his back, when his name leaves your mouth in a whisper that breaks him.

“Say that again.” he gasps.

“Law…” you breathe, over and over.

He buries his face in your neck, his rhythm faltering as the pleasure overwhelms him, and you both feel getting closer, faster, hotter.

There’s nothing but the sound of skin and breath, the warmth of the sheets beneath you, and the quiet gasps and soft moans you both try and fail to hold back.

When both of you reach that edge and fall over, it’s not loud or wild. It’s intimate. Raw.

It’s the kind of release that leaves your body trembling and your heart pounding, tangled together with nothing but skin, breath, and the way his forehead rests against yours after like he’s still trying to catch up to what just happened.

You stay like that for a long time.

No words. Just warmth.

Just him.

Just you.

The next morning Law is back to being Law.

Or at least, he’s trying to be. Hoodie back on. Hat in place. Expression neutral. Calm, cold, distant.

Except for the fact that he’s in the kitchen. Holding two plates of breakfast.

And everyone is staring at him.

Penguin squints “Wait. Since when do you eat two breakfasts?”

“I’m not” Law replies, turning to leave.

Shachi tilts his head “But you have two plates.”

“I know” Law snaps, not even turning around.

“So why are you—hold on. Aren’t you the one who stormed off yesterday?” Shachi says, poking his arm “You were red. And sweaty.”

“And kind of scary” Bepo adds helpfully.

“I wasn’t sick,” Law mutters through gritted teeth “I’m fine.”

Shachi eyes the second plate again “Then who’s that for?”

Law pauses. His grip on the tray tightens.

“Y/N.”

The room goes quiet.

Penguin blinks “Y/N’s not here?”

“They’re in my room.”

Another pause.

Shachi frowns “Wait, why’re they in your room?”

Law’s eye twitches “I’m taking care of it.”

Bepo tilts his head “So they’re sick now?”

“No... I mean... yes... kind of.” Law growls under his breath “I’m the doctor, okay?”

He storms out with the tray before anyone can ask anything else.

The silence lingers for half a beat.

“…Wait,” Shachi says slowly, turning to the others “Why’d he bring Y/N to his room?”

“Yeah,” Penguin nods “When I’m sick, he makes me stay in the infirmary.”

Bepo blinks “He brings me medicine and tells me to hydrate.”

There’s a beat.

Then, from across the kitchen, Ikkaku slaps a hand to her face “Oh my god.”

Shachi turns “What?”

She smacks him on the head.

“Idiot. They’re not sick-sick. They just... read the room, idiots!”

Realization hits like a brick.

Penguin gasps “Wait. Are you saying Law and—?”

Shachi’s jaw drops “That’s why he was all weird yesterday!”

Bepo covers his mouth, ears turning pink “O-Oh. I didn’t realize—should we pretend we don’t know?”

Ikkaku groans “Yes. If you value your life, yes.”

Back in Law’s room, you’re still curled up under the blanket, smug and sore in all the right ways.

The door opens.

He walks in without a word, sets down the tray, and starts fussing like you’re actually sick. Water. Tea. Pillow adjustments. Avoiding eye contact.

You raise an eyebrow “You good, Captain?”

His ears are red.

“I’m fine,” he mutters “Eat your food.”

You bite back a grin “Did they say anything?”

“No,” he says too fast “Shut up and eat.”

You stretch slowly under the blanket, smirking “Should I pretend I’m sick?”

He shoots you a warning glare.

You just laugh “You’re really bad at this whole ‘calm and collected’ thing, y’know.”

He glares harder.

But when you reach for the tea and brush your fingers against his, he doesn’t pull away.

You smile softly at him as he sits next to you to eat together.

[violentdelights-violentendss]

Logan Going Into a Rut.

Would you guys like a part two? I could make a part two if you guys want….let me know how it is and please request a thousand more things I am eagerly awaiting your requests!!! (I am also working on the ones I already got!) I didn’t spell check this….

Pairing: Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Logan goes into a rut earlier than he expected.

Logan had woken up that morning significantly earlier than he usually did. You were still sleeping peacefully next to him, entangled in the sheets you had stolen from him during the night. Logan didn’t mind too much, being always warm. But that morning, he felt even hotter than usual. He slid his hand against his bare chest, feeling it to be slick with sweat. He closed his eyes, massaging his temples, before he shook his morning drowsiness and confusion away, deciding he would not be able to sleep any longer. He walked to the bathroom, deciding to take a cold shower even if it was the heart of winter.

He wasn’t too mad about the early start, Charles having drowned him in a very extensive list of things to do, not counting the lessons he had to begrudgingly teach that afternoon. Logan stepped outside of the bathroom, fully clothed and ready for the day, even if he still felt a little drowsy. He chalked it up to having eaten too heavily the night before, maybe the digestion worsening his sleep.

He checked himself in the mirror, making sure he looked decent. He started heading towards the door of your room. Right before he left, he glanced at you, making sure you were still in deep sleep. Logan’s eyes froze on your figure: your sleeping shorts had slid up your body, revealing your thighs, and your braless tits hidden underneath the shirt you had stolen from him begged him to jump back into bed with you. He exhaled loudly. Logan gripped the door so tightly he thought his claws would come out. He needed to go work. He shook his head, cursing Charles as he shut the door behind him.

•

Logan had been running around the X mansion fulfilling various tasks, not noticing as the day slowly, and sluggishly slid forward. The gloominess of the morning left its place to the timid rays of the winter sun, that caressed his back as he finished fixing a broken kitchen cabinet. A multitude of students had already waltzed inside the kitchen, still half asleep. They had uttered a sleepy ‘good morning’, before they grabbed a little food. Logan grunted in response, too focused on the darn kitchen cabinet. The flow of students had significantly slower when he had managed to finally fix it.

Logan slammed down the screwdriver. “Fucking finally.” He closed and opened the cabinet a few times, smiling proudly when the cabinet door did not decide to dramatically clatter to the ground rather choosing to finally stay in place.

“What are you celebrating, baby?”

Your voice startled him, but he quickly turned around, a type of smile reserved for you only gracing his lips. “(Y/N).” You grinned back at him. “I managed to fix this darn cabinet door that someone, managed to detach in the dead of night.”

Your eyes glinted. “You have a gut feeling about who did it?”

“Definitely.” Logan replied, walking around the counter to hold your waist. “I woke up super early this morning.” He added. You pulled back from his chest, worry dancing in your eyes. “No nothing serious, bub, I just think I ate a dinner that was too heavy.”

Your eyes relaxed, pushing up on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to your boyfriend’s lips. You were about to pull back when Logan suddenly deepened the kiss, darting his tongue in your mouth. You leaned back into the kiss, letting yourself be pulled by Logan’s large, warm hands on your waist. The man grunted into the kiss, his body starting to tingle on fire, desire coursing through your veins. The way he was pulling you close seemed desperate, as if he needed you to breathe.

You gasped in shock when his hands slid onto your waist and pressed you against his crotch, feeling his already erected cock. “Already hard?” You whispered, looking down at the evident bulge in his pants. Logan pushed you against the counter, caging you against it. His chest heaved frantically.

“No idea, darling. You’re making me go crazy today.” He whispered, before he dove back into the kiss. You fully lost yourself in it, knowing the kitchen was pretty much deserted at this point in time. He pressed into the kiss, his tongue caressing your mouth, desire making his chest burn incandescently. Your eyes fluttered shut, letting your hands roam on his large back, his scent making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You were about to suggest moving it to the bedroom when Logan suddenly pulled back, pressing his crotch tightly against yours and caging you tightly against his chest. You glanced up at him, worried something happened when you noticed his legs were quivering. A moan erupted from his lips, and his hips thrusted against yours. “(Y/N), oh my god!” He grunted. You didn’t know what was happening till you felt wetness from Logan’s crotch, seeping into your leggings, as his head was thrown back, and he panted loudly.

“Did…Logan did you cum?” You asked, startled: he usually lasted more than a few rounds. His endurance was crazy. Logan’s eyes fluttered open, lust blowing his pupils wide. He slowly looked at you, disbelief clearly evident on his face. You tentatively bucked your hips, watching as he shivered.

“I think…” Logan swallowed, reaching his hand to feel his crotch. “My rut might be coming early.” He closed his eyes, cursing himself: the sweat, the ever present arousal, the shitty sleep…it was all there. Your eyes widened, shooting down to the clear stain on his light blue pants, and the evident bulge that was already growing again.

“Fuck, today is not the day for that.” You cursed.

“What, why?” Logan asked, grunting when he felt the head of his cock press against the seam of his jeans. Why did he decide to go commando today of all days.

“I have that overnight field trip with my students! I can’t bail last minute.” You cried, your eyes widening. Logan’s face contorted into a grimace of pain, a curse rolling out of his mouth, as he realized this day would suck. A lot. He would have to spend the day locked in your room, rutting against your panties to try and feel any sort of momentary solace. But he knew you could not desert your students just like that. Even if he acted all gruff and scary, he knew what caring for students meant, and he would not rip their favorite teacher away from them, especially during a field trip that was only supposed to be joyful.

He caressed your cheeks. “It’s gonna be alright, baby. I’ll figure it out.” He lied through his teeth, already feeling his skin starting to burn and itch with almost irresistible lust.

You glared back at him. “No, it’s not fine and we both know it. You know what, I’ll come back tonight. I won’t stay overnight. How does that sound, baby? Huh?” You asked, pulling against his shirt to try and get him to concentrate through the daze of lust that was already taking over.

Logan nodded, his head spinning. “Yeah, that would be great, love.” He whispered. You moved against him, trying to reach your phone to check the time, your knee gliding against his bulge. “Fuck!” Logan croaked, throwing his head back.

You locked your phone, glancing up at him. “Logan, baby, I still have 10 minutes. What can I do?” You asked, caressing his chest.

Before he replied, Logan gently grabbed your arm, dragging the both of you inside the supply closet, and locking the door behind you.

Safely inside, Logan closed his eyes, trying to look past his primal instincts, and deem what would be the best course of action. Objectively, fucking you would keep him satisfied the longest, but there wasn’t time in 10 minutes. He discarded his rationality, fully relying on his animal instincts, knowing what they desired in the moment would keep him satisfied the most. “This…might be weird, baby, but I just need to rut against you, please.” His voice was heavy with need.

“Baby, I’m here. I’m here for everything.” You reassured him, spreading your legs, letting Logan position his crotch right in between, were he needed to be. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you still as he started to thrust against you. His face soon contorting in a grimace of pleasure, even a drop of drool sliding down the side of his mouth.

Your hands raked Logan’s back underneath his shirt, letting him feel your skin on his. His beautiful eyes slid open, his gaze landing on your tits, that bounced delicately with every trust. “Your tits, babygirl…need to see them.” Logan whispered in your ear. You pressed an open mouthed kiss to his neck before you unzipped your jacket, revealing your light tank top underneath: you were going out with your students to a nature park, you needed to be sporty.

You reached for your neckline, feeling Logan’s hand wrap around yours to yank your tits out faster. When they were right in front of his eyes, Logan mewled loudly, leaning down to kiss you fervently as his hips started to jackhammer faster.

Somehow, even in the daze of his lust, Logan had managed to perfectly align his tip with your clit, making you see stars. Your moans quickly started mingling with his. His large hands reached your left thigh, hoisting it up to wrap around his waist. “Right - nghh - there! Logan!” You cried, hearing your boyfriend’s quiet pants fill your ears.

“Gonna make me cum in my pants again. God, you turn me into a horny teenager.” He murmured, his rhythm slowing down for a second before it started picking up again.

Your phone buzzed, showing you the time. “Logan…I need to go soon!” You whimpered, threading your hands through his hair.

“I’m close.” He reassured you, his lidded eyes landing on your jiggling tits. They dragged a broken moan out of his lips. Logan was only ever this loud when he was experiencing his rut. “Are you?” You nodded quickly.

The knot in your stomach had been tightening for a while, and reacted the second it was called to attention. You wrapped your arms tightly around Logan, pressing him against you, practically shoving his face in between your breasts. “Logan!” You cried, throwing your head back, as the thigh he was holding quivered in his hand, orgasming powerfully.

The sudden surge of the smell of your arousal made Logan go crazy, sighing against your tits before he pulled back. He stopped for a second, even if he was close. You watched him, dazed, still descending from your high. Through your tired eyes and panting chest, you watched as Logan hastily unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans pulling out his cock. He quickly placed his leaking cock in between your legs, and you had the reflex to shut your thighs to allow him a little more pleasure.

“Fuck. I could fuck you for hours!” He whispered, starting to move his hips as quickly as he could. You leaned forward, licking a strip up his neck, landing on a spot you knew sent him crazy and gently nibbling on it. Logan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, the sensation of your leggings against his sensitive tip, and your delicate teeth against his neck finally pushing him to the edge.

The orgasm was so powerful he didn’t even have time to warn you. His hips just sped up, his voice ripped away from the pleasure. He didn’t even manage to utter your name, just gripping your waist with his fingers. His mouth snapped open when he felt his orgasm reach him. Logan’s claws sprung out of his hands, puncturing two bags of rice that were placed on the shelves you were pressed against. Just as the rice started tumbling to the ground, Logan cummed, distinctly hearing his cum splatter on the floor.

Your boyfriend slumped against you, his claws retracting, his thighs shivering. You caressed his back, pressing soft kisses against his neck. “You did so well, baby.” You cooed, moving your hands to massage his head. Logan nodded, spent.

Your phone buzzed again, your students asking where you were. You cursed, hastily pulling your shirt back up and zipping your jacket. You clasped Logan’s jawline, forcing him to look at you through his post-orgasm daze. “I’m going to come back as soon as I can. Love you so much, baby.” You whispered, pressing your forehead against him.

Logan’s hands ran down to your waist, dragging you into a kiss. Your bodies melted together, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and yanking him closer. Not even a piece of paper could have fit through you. You pulled back, eyeing the string of saliva connecting you. “If we keep going like this, a bigger pool of cum will be on the floor.” You whispered, starting to head towards the door.

Logan grinned, lazily passing his hand through his hair. “Go, have fun. I’ll clean up here. I’ll be waiting for you tonight.” His eyes glinted with an erotic promise. You grinned, blowing a flying kiss. Logan watched the door close behind you, pulling his jeans back up and hastily disinfecting the floor.

He walked outside, quickly going to inform Charles he would be off today before he headed back to the room. He could still feel his buzzing desire for you deep inside his skin, but he felt somewhat satisfied as he threw his shirt on the floor, letting himself fall on the bed. Logan moved on his side, trying to get some sleep to get a break from his lust, but as he adjusted himself on the mattress, his eyes landed on the dirty panties you had accidentally forgotten on the ground. Your scent reached his sensitive nose, drugging him immediately.

Logan glanced down towards his crotch. He was hard again. “Fuck!” He yelled, falling back down on the bed, exasperated. It would be a long, long, day.

[mcpostinghours]

I'm going to torment y'all with more Obey Me posting, here's what sorts of dresses I think the boys would pick for MC ( regardless of gender)

Lucifer: He can act like he's not as horny as his brothers, but I think he would imagine something super form fitting. Classy, true, but form fitting and probably black or blue or red. Feather details are a bonus.

Mammon: Thinks MC is so, SO hot, so something short and revealing, decorated in glitter and gold. Obviously something in black and gold. That being said he'd also all but faint to see them in something white and shining, loosely hanging over them like some old depictions of the gods.

Leviathan: Also horny, but also a nerd. Something with fantasy elements, and definitely at least one leg slit. He also likes oceanic colors, or orange to match him of course. Tbh his dream dress for MC would make them look like a mermaid.

Asmodeous: He's also horny (noticing a trend) but he ALSO loves fashion. I think his ideal dress would look like really really fancy lingerie. Definitely heavy on the lace, and definitely something in pink or white.

Satan: A hopeless romantic who loves fairytales? He absolutely would choose some kind of princess looking gown, with a structured bodice and fluffy skirt. Naturally he'd like something in green, or maybe purple.

Beelzebub: I feel like he doesn't think about this kind of stuff much, but if pressed he'd probably pick something short and cute. Or something that made MC's butt look good, he's totally an ass man. I feel like he'd like the color red too, or black.

Belphegor: Now he would want something that's soft and nice to touch, so probably something silk. Naturally he'd like something in purple or deep blue, super dreamy nighttime colors. It also doesn't matter how small your boobs are or if you even have them, this guy wants to see and rest his head on your cleavage. (Brat)

Diavolo: Something luxurious and regal, he wants to show MC the extent of what he can offer them. Also something white and gold, it's gonna end up looking like a wedding dress. He does not care, in fact that's a bonus. Something that glitters and makes them look even more divine. (He low-key wants to make them look more gorgeous than the angels as a flex)

Barbatos: Something slinky and formal. Something that matches the turquoise of his tail. Where Mammon would drape MC in gold, Barbatos goes for jewels. On MC's neck, chest, in their hair. He wants to see them glimmer.

Simeon: Something sweet and power blue. He prefers fabrics that drape and flow, loosely hightlighting their form. He'd never admit it but he also has a thing for dresses that are a bit transparent...

Solomon: While this asshole would probably say he'd prefer them nude, there is a legitimate answer. He would like a dress that looks like the night sky, black with glittering silver stones. Something that makes MC look as magical as he thinks they are. That being said he also wants a really REALLY high leg slit with a garter. He'd have a conniption.

Edit: I have now illustrated part of this:

[velaenam]

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc. when the sky took caleb, all you got back was a folded flag and the echoes of everything left unsaid. you thought that the hardest part would be losing caleb– turns out, it’s learning how to keep living without him.  𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 – ANGST, swearing, mature themes. loss of life, grief. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬– not proofread. couldn't sleep, so i wrote this in one go. please excuse the inconsistencies. i hope you guys enjoy. i may write an epilogue ^^ — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated.

11.6k

3 years previous.

“let’s give a round of applause for your valedictorian– caleb xia!”

the sun is brutal, but caleb looks unbothered standing at the podium—uniform crisp, cap tilted just right, smile at ease. he scans the crowd, his face unbroken by the intense amount of bodies that showed up for today’s celebration. the applause fades. the wind shifts. and then he starts his speech.

“i thought flying would be the best thing that ever happened to me.  i trained for it. worked for it. sacrificed a lot to get here. i made a lot of friends– a lot of life long connections. but somewhere along the way, something… better happened.”

his voice doesn’t shake. doesn’t rush, cool and calculated. he glances down at his notes like he needs them– but it’s not his notes it’s his bad drawing of a plane. must’ve gotten the wrong paper on his way here. he clears his throat, very well so improvising.

“i’ve written this speech more times than we’ve flown in the simulations. i wanted to write about everyone that helped pave the way for me, but, you see, the best part of my life didn’t come from the sky. it came from someone who kept me grounded. someone who made sure i never forgot who i was when everything else got loud. she sat through my late-night calls, my stress meltdowns, my terrible ramen phase. and she’s the reason i’m still standing here, sane, intact, and apparently valedictorian.”

there’s light laughter, scattered claps. he holds up a hand. but he’s not looking at his classmates. he’s looking straight at you.

“can you come up here for a second?”

you blink. once. twice.  you point at yourself like an idiot. caleb just nods. still smiling and someone behind you shoves your shoulder gently. “go, go!” you stumble forward, heat crawling up your neck. you can feel everyone watching, whispering, wondering. your heels were the only noise that was heard as it clicked across the pavement. his classmates cheer.

caleb reaches his hand out to help you onto the stage like this is a movie and he’s memorized every line. you lean in, voice low. “what are you doing?” and he doesn’t answer. instead, he pulls a small box from his uniform pocket. and just– goes down on one knee. your eyes widen, lungs deplete of air. the air vanishes. the world stops.

“i want to fly a thousand missions and still come home to you.  i want to grow old with you before i grow old in the cockpit. you are the love of my life, and i can’t envision my life without you.…..will you marry me?”

gasps. someone in the crowd yells “holy shit!” caleb’s hand doesn’t shake. his eyes are soft. wide open and waiting for your response. your body was stilled, it was just so mesmerized at this moment. you don’t cry right away. you’re too stunned.  but you nod. and laugh. and nod again. and then tears flow.  you cried at how, despite that this was his moment ,he decided to share it with you– decided to share it with the one he loved the most.

“yes,” you say. then again, louder: “yes!”

the crowd erupts. his classmates lose it. someone sets off a confetti popper they definitely weren’t cleared to bring. caleb slips the ring on your finger and pulls you into his arms, spinning you like the cliché he swore he wasn’t. you don’t care. you’re dizzy. you’re full. you’re his. and for one perfect second,  the sky has never felt closer.

the knock is soft, almost hesitant at first—three measured taps that echo in the hallway like a heartbeat. you’re curled up on your couch, the low hum of the tv a distant comfort, when the sound reaches you. for a moment, every instinct tells you it’s caleb; maybe he’s finally returned, his voice promising that he’d surprise you with flowers and that worn-around-the-edges smile. you set aside the book you were pretending to read, rise slowly, and shuffle toward the door with bare feet and trembling anticipation.

when you swing the door open, the sight that meets your eyes makes time momentarily stop. there is no caleb, no familiar face framed by the doorway– just two military officers in crisp uniforms, their expressions a blend of duty and gentle sorrow. one of them, a woman, taller than the other, offers a respectful nod while the shorter man carefully holds out a small, unassuming box. resting on top of the box is a folded flag, pressed down as if to protect it from the chill of the unknown. the flag’s fabric is soft and worn. it looks reverent. of the highest importance. the most precious gift to be given. its creases speaking of countless memories. you feel a sudden, disorienting numbness replace the hope you’d clung to just moments before.

“good morning ma’am. are you mrs. xia? colonel caleb’s wife?” you steel your nerves, as you give a meek nod. 

the three of you stand there, intensity piling over each other nonstop. your eyes start to water, as one of them start to speak, “we.. regret to inform you..” the man says, voice low, smooth, practiced, “colonel caleb xia-” and that’s when it breaks you. you were about to face the music. face the fact that they’re about to announce that your husband, childhood best friend, the man of your life.. “..-was involved in a flight incident three days ago. a systems malfunction. his aircraft lost contact over the water- and there was no distress signal. search and rescue operations have ceased as of this morning.” 

presumed. lost. presumed lost. presumed. presumed. 

the words echo in your skull like your heartbeat as if it wont sync with the rest of you. the officer keeps talking, and you don’t register most of it. words like sacrifice, and service, feel far away. like they’re happening to someone else. not to you. 

your knees buckled, but your legs don’t give up. your throat is stuck. you couldn’t say anything. the pain that was slowly boiling over as the officer set’s the box down on your coffee table. as she walks past you once more, she doesn’t meet your eyes, but leaves you with one final sentiment, “we.. offer our deepest condolences.” she says gently as they leave. your chilled fingers find their way to the doorknob, closing it gently. 

as the officers walk to their vehicle, they hear a blood curdling scream coming from your house. followed by screams of crying. they tense up, as they head into the car, forlorn amongst each other. 

you stare at the box. the box sits there on your coffee table, untouched and solemn, as if it holds the final echoes of his laughter, the soft echo of his whispered promises, and the bittersweet memory of a love that once soared higher than any runway. in that quiet moment, every fiber of your being is caught between the hope of a return and the harsh, unyielding pain of loss—a loss that is carved into each fold of the flag resting there, a silent tribute to the life that was, and the heart that must now learn to continue without him.

the room feels too big now. it stretches wide and hollow, filled with quiet corners that used to hold his voice. your body is folded in on itself on the living room floor, back pressed to the couch, legs drawn tight to your chest, like curling inward might make the ache stop echoing.

the tv still hums softly in the background, forgotten, casting dim light across the walls that shifts every time the screen changes. none of it feels real. it’s like you’re watching yourself from far away—like you’re not really here, not really in this moment, not really alone.

for a while, you try to pretend it’s not real.  you stare at the floor. you pick at the skin around your thumbnail until it bleeds. you blink too fast to see straight. you wait for someone to wake you up.

but no one does.

you don’t even realize you’re crying until your lips part and the first sob slips out—shaky, strangled, helpless. like your body is trying to warn you that this is going to hurt more than anything else ever has.

your face burns with pain. tears stain your face and neck, as if you have cried for years. your hands tremble at the sight of that fucking flag. that fucking flag that doubles down as a reminder that he was fucking dead. you were slowly unraveling. becoming ballistic. 

your face crumples and the sound that follows is raw. ugly. gutted. you press your forehead to your knees and cry like you’ve never cried before– like it’s ripping something from inside you just to let it out. your shoulders shake. your breath stutters. you grip your sleeves so hard your knuckles ache.

you cry for the stupid way he used to tap on your door in threes.  you cry for the voice that used to call you “baby” like it meant something holy. you cry for the way his arms wrapped around you perfectly, like you were the most priceless item in the world. the way he would wake up early just so he could take care of your daughter without you having to do it first. the silly plans he makes for you when you had a hard day. just to see you smile. you cry for the fact that your baby will never see her father ever again. 

you cry because he promised he’d come back. and now there’s a flag sitting on your coffee table instead.

when the sobs finally slow, you’re left in the quiet aftermath—your body trembling, your cheeks sticky with tears, your throat raw. the room is still. the only thing you can hear is the soft hum of the refrigerator and the muted static from the tv you forgot to turn off.

you lift your head.

your eyes land on the box again. it hasn’t moved. but something in you has. your heart thuds unevenly as you crawl forward on shaking hands and knees, closing the space between you and the thing that holds whatever’s left of him. you hesitate when you reach it. your hand hovers above the lid, fingers twitching. your breath catches.

you don’t want to know what’s inside.  you don’t want to see the things he left behind.  but not knowing hurts worse. because at least if you open it, part of him will still be here. you press your hand to the cardboard. it’s warm from the sunlight filtering through the window, but the weight of it is cold in your chest.

you let your palm slide to the flag. the fabric is soft, neatly folded, impossibly precise. you wonder who folded it. if their hands were gentle. if they cried.

your fingers curl around the edge of the box.  and with a breath that doesn’t feel like enough,

you lift the lid.

and the world goes quiet again.

your fingers grip the edge of the lid and lift slowly, carefully—like opening it too fast might break whatever’s inside.  the cardboard creaks. the air shifts… and then it’s open.

you don’t know what you expected. maybe you thought it would feel colder. heavier? louder? but it’s quiet. inside are his things. small and simple. personal. they sit still, like they’ve been waiting for you.

your hands tremble as you reach in. the first thing you pull out is his flight jacket—brown and worn, creased in all the places you remember him folding it. the left sleeve still has your hair tie around it. the one he stole from your nightstand. the one you never asked him to give back.

you press the jacket to your chest and close your eyes for a second. it still smells like him. like apple soap, his favorite that he stocked up on at the flea market, and jet fuel and something warm you can’t name. you hold it a little longer before laying it gently on the couch behind you.

next, there’s a ziplock bag. inside is a small flash drive, black with a chipped corner.  You recognize the sticker stuck to the front. his messy handwriting. your name. a little heart next to it.  you don’t touch it yet.

you pull out a small notebook. it’s filled. the cover is creased, the spine soft from being carried around too much. you flip it open to a random page that was sticking out and find his handwriting again—neater than you remember. a list of things he wanted to do when he came home.

go to that lake and teach her how to ride a bike learn to make bouquets for wifey fix the chair in the bedroom or she’ll kick my ass again go on a date. super overdue. 

your vision blurs again. you blink hard. your thumb brushes over the last line, like touching it might make it real. beneath the notebook is a small envelope. no postage. no seal. your name is written across the front in ink that’s faded just slightly at the edges. you set it down gently, like it might explode. every touch made you feel hotter. like you were about to erupt yourself.

and then– at the very bottom– is a photo.

creased. softened at the corners. well-loved. it’s one of you.  you’re smiling, barely looking at the camera, sunlight catching in your hair. he must’ve taken it when you weren’t paying attention. on the back, written in pen:

love of my life. my heart. my once-in-a-lifetime

your tears didn’t give you any time. your hiccups come fervently. you crouched down, your forehead hitting the dark floor, not caring if the impact hurt you in the slightest. your hands balled into a fist– as you slammed down on the floor repeatedly. this was a curse. did you piss off a god? did they want to punish you? you wailed, not caring if neighbors or a passerby hears you. 

the first time he took you flying.

the airfield was quiet that afternoon, touched with golden light and the distant hum of activity. caleb had been pacing near the hangar, hands shoved into his flight suit pockets, pretending he was calm. pretending this wasn’t a big deal but it was. you knew it and he knew it too.

he’d talked about this day for weeks. “when the weather’s perfect, and the schedule clears… i’ll take you up. just us.”  and now here it was– sunlight stretching across the tarmac, barely a breeze, and the world wide open.

“you sure you’re ready for this, lieutenant?” you teased as you approached, backpack slung over one shoulder, sunglasses half-slipping down your nose. “don’t call me that,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “you make it sound so formal.” “you’re about to fly a whole ass plane with me in it, caleb,” you said, grinning. “that’s kindaaa formal.”

he didn’t laugh—not at first. he just stared at you for a second, lips pressed together like he was holding something back. his fingers twitched at his side. not nerves about flying. you’d seen him pilot with calm precision under pressure.

no. this was different.  this was you.

you followed him out to the jet, heart racing. it wasn’t big, but it was beautiful– sleek lines, pale blue paint kissed by sun. the cockpit door was already open.  he helped you up the steps like it was second nature. you didn’t need the help. he still offered.

inside, the cockpit was warm. the leather smelled like old vinyl and the faint smell of caleb’s cologne. you settled into the co-pilot seat, buckling in, glancing sideways just in time to catch the way his hands lingered on the controls—steady, but shaking. just barely.

“you okay?” you asked, quieter now. he nodded, adjusting a dial.  “yeah. just… haven’t done this ….with you before.”

you blinked. “you mean flying?” “no,” he said, turning to look at you. 

the plane hummed to life beneath you. the engine low and alive.

he looked at you like the sky had nothing on you.  like this– being here, with you– was the risk and the reward.

“you trust me?” he asked. you didn’t hesitate.  “always.” and god, the way his face softened. the way his eyes held yours for that extra second, like he was memorizing the way you said it.

then the wheels lifted from the ground, and the sky opened for you both. you looked over at him mid-flight—hands sure on the controls now, wind sweeping against the windows—and thought:

he was never more beautiful than when he flew.

the knock doesn’t wake you.

it’s the doorbell that does—bright and insistent, slicing through the heavy quiet like sunlight through curtains. you stir against the couch, body aching from how you must’ve curled up at some point during the night. your throat is dry. your eyes sting. your limbs feel like they belong to someone else. 

it takes a second to remember. then it all hits. the box. the photo. the letter you still haven’t read.

you sit up slowly, blinking against the light. your hand is still clutching the edge of his flight jacket, twisted in your sleep. you press your face into it once– just once– before the doorbell rings again.

you move on autopilot, feet bare, blanket slipping off your shoulders as you make your way to the front door. when you open it, you don’t expect her. you don’t expect them.

his sister stands there with a soft expression, one hand resting on the shoulder of the tiny girl standing beside her—the girl with his eyes.

your daughter.

you freeze in the doorway, one hand still gripping the edge of the frame. you’re not sure if your face is blotchy, if your hair is a mess, if your grief is still showing like blood beneath your skin. but she doesn’t say anything.

she just offers a quiet, “thought i’d bring her back a little early,” and a soft smile, almost apologetic. like she knows.

your daughter doesn’t wait.  she sees you and beams, eyes crinkling, arms lifting like flight.

“mommy!”

you kneel before you can think, before you can stop the tears that spring up all over again– this time, different. she crashes into your arms with the full weight of someone small and unbreakable, her hair smelling like strawberries and sunshine. you wrap her up. hold her so tightly it nearly hurts. she giggles against your shoulder. “you squishing me.”

“i missed you,” you whisper, voice barely there. “i drew you a picture,” she says proudly. “it has a plane in it. like daddy’s.”

your heart twists. your eyes close. you nod against her hair, swallowing hard.

caleb’s sister steps inside without needing to ask, her eyes scanning the living room, the box still open, the flag still folded, the quiet aftermath still lingering like smoke. she says nothing about it. just rests a hand on your back as you sit with your daughter, fingers brushing through her hair.

“do you want juice?” you ask, voice a little steadier now. “yes! and waffles.” you kiss the top of her head. “you got it, captain baby.”

she runs off to the kitchen like it’s the best morning in the world. you stay kneeling there on the floor for a moment, staring after her. the ache is still there. the hole caleb left behind hasn’t shrunk. but right now, in this soft, impossible moment, it doesn’t feel quite so wide.

because part of him is still here. in her laugh. in her joy.  in the way she runs like she’s never known anything but love.

you feel arms envelope you, like a cocoon. your sister in law pulls you in her arms, her voice trembling as her jaw tightens. “i’m sorry..” she musters as her tears land on your shoulder. she was strong in her own way. she was a rock to you when things went wrong. when you needed help she was there. she hadn’t even found out the news– but from her glance at the folded flag.. she knew… she knew..  she couldn’t even beat around the bush. 

the next day felt like death. 

you wake up in his hoodie. not because you meant to sleep in it, but because at some point in the night, you stopped trying to be strong.

your phone is buzzing. again. and again. you don’t want to check it.  you already know what you’ll see. but you do. thumb slow. screen too bright.

and there it is–  his name. everywhere.

not in headlines, not yet.  but in comments. stories. posts from people you barely remember.

“can’t believe it. he was the best of us.” “my heart goes out to his family.” “rest easy, colonel caleb xia.” “you were so loved, man. you didn’t deserve this.” “sending prayers to his girl and daughter.” “we’ll take it from here.”

the words blur..  you scroll until your thumb aches. you like none of them. you reply to no one. you close the app, but the weight of it stays. he’s gone. and now the world knows it. 

you ignore the messages and missed calls from your family and in laws. you even ignored his sister.

you hear footsteps– tiny ones– padding down the hall.

“mommy?”

you look up.  your daughter is standing in the doorway of the kitchen, still in her apple pajamas. hair wild. eyes puffy from sleep. she hugs her stuffed rabbit tighter to her chest.  the one caleb bought her.  the one she never sleeps without.

“when is daddy coming back? i’m starting to miss him.. he always makes me waffles when i wake up..”

your breath stops.

she says it like it’s happened before. like it’s normal. like she expects a phone call later. a video. a souvenir. you kneel slowly, legs weak beneath you. your hands reach for hers, steadying even though you’re anything but. “baby,” you say softly. “come here.”

she walks over, all sleepy and innocent, and crawls into your lap without hesitation. she rests her head on your shoulder, small fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. you rock her gently. back and forth. back and forth. and then— you try.

“remember how we talked about how daddy flies really high in the sky?” she nods. her voice is small. “with the big plane.” you breathe in. it hurts. like hell. “sometimes,” you whisper, “the people we love go up so high… they don’t come back down.”

she frowns, brows furrow, in that cute way she does when she doesn't understand. “but daddy always comes back.” you press your forehead to hers. your voice shakes. you didn’t plan this. how do you explain death to a child who still thinks love can fix everything? “i know, baby,” you say. “but this time… he couldn’t. something went wrong. and he had to stay up there.”

“he forgot?” the way her lip trembles nearly breaks you. “no, sweet girl. he didn’t forget. he would never forget us.” she’s quiet for a long time.

“is he… in the stars now?” she whispers. you nod, even though your eyes are full again. “yeah. he’s in the stars.” fuckfuckfuck- you rapidly look to your right, away from her eyes, so you can blink the tears away.

“can he see me?” you nod harder.  “always.”

she buries her face in your shoulder and says nothing. and you hold her like she’s the last tether to your heart. like maybe if you stay still enough, quiet enough, caleb might still be listening.

you rock her gently. back and forth.  the morning sunlight spills across the floor.  the phone buzzes again on the counter.  you ignore it. right now, the world can wait. you’re too busy holding what’s left of him.

it was a beautiful day. of course it was.

clear skies. gentle breeze. birdsong carried over the low hills of the memorial field like it didn’t know what today was. like it didn’t matter that the only thing missing from the funeral was the one person it was for.

they called it a ceremony. a tribute–  a celebration of life. as if any of those things made up for the fact that they never found his body. as if a flag folded with precision and placed on velvet could replace the man who used to carry your daughter on his shoulders through grocery stores. as if taps, played too perfectly, could echo louder than the silence he left behind.

you sit in the front row, wearing black you didn’t remember picking. hands clasped tightly in your lap, nails digging into your palms. your breathing is slow. measured. because if you breathe too fast,  you might feel it all. and you can't. not here. not now. not for her. 

caleb’s photo sits on an easel beside the podium. he’s smiling in it—smiling like he always did when you were behind the camera, like he was in on the secret that life could be beautiful. you can’t look at it.

the general speaks but you don’t hear him. his mouth moves, his voice low and reverent, but it all feels like it’s underwater. like someone pressed pause on the world and forgot to tell you. your fingers tighten around the small hand holding yours–  your daughter. sitting beside you in a navy blue dress she didn’t want to wear.

she doesn’t understand why there’s no casket. no goodbye.no daddy.

she fidgets in her seat. you glance at her once, eyes glassy, and see that she’s clutching her stuffed rabbit like it’s the only thing keeping her together.

someone begins to read caleb’s accomplishments.  his rank. his record. his honors.  you hear the word “sacrifice.” it lands like lead in your stomach.

your vision blurs, not from tears— but from distance.

you’re floating somewhere behind your own eyes, not really here, not really now. watching your body sit perfectly still while your heart bleeds out across the grass.

and then…

a sob.

not yours.

small. sharp.  your daughter.

“where’s daddy?”

the voice cuts through the speech. the silence after it is instant, jarring. you feel every eye shift.

her bottom lip quivers, hands balled into fists. she stands up, turns to the crowd, and says it again—louder this time, more broken:

“where’s my daddy?!”

your throat seizes. you try to reach for her but your arms feel far away. in a split second– she’s running towards the general.

“why isn’t he coming?!”

your vision breaks.  the disassociation splinters. everything crashes back into you— the sunlight, the wind,  the sound of her crying, the echo of a man they call fallen  but you still want to believe is just late. like he’ll burst out of wherever he’s hiding, and laugh at the sick and stupid joke.

your body doesn’t think, you’re already running towards her as you scoop her into your arms, dragging her back into the chair. her fists beat weakly against your chest, her wailing unmatched. “he said he’d come back!” she sobs. “he promised!”

you hold her so tightly you’re not sure where she ends and you begin.  you press your face into her hair and finally, finally cry. loud. unrestrained. not for the ceremony. not for the image. but because she said what you couldn’t. because she’s five, and she understands the truth you’re still trying not to choke on.

he’s gone.

he’s not coming home.

and you’re still here, letting her cry,  in a world where taps plays for people who never got to say goodbye.

everyone was gone.

they left with soft smiles and casseroles in their arms, careful condolences tucked into envelopes you haven’t opened yet. they whispered, they nodded, they touched your shoulder like grief could be comforted with just enough gentle hands.

but now it’s quiet again. just you, the breeze, the wildflowers at the edge of the memorial field.. and him– or what’s left of him.

your knees are pressed into the grass in front of the stone they gave him. it’s smooth.  too new.. his name carved into it like that makes it official. Permanent.

colonel caleb xia. loving husband, brother, and one hell of a pilot.

“you asshole,” you whisper.

it slips out soft, breathy. your voice cracks around it. you huff a laugh, and then the tears come–again.

“i can’t believe you left me here to raise a mini-you,” you say, rubbing your thumb over the stone . “she’s got your eyes. your smile. your attitude.”

you look up at the stone. at his name.  your chest tightens.

“you should’ve seen her today. she stood up and yelled at a man in uniform because she didn’t understand why you weren’t there.” your voice trembles. “i didn’t know what to tell her. how do you explain to a baby that her father is now a folded piece of cloth and a few medals in a box? a tombstone?” you wipe your face, trying to pull it together, but you’re shaking.

“and i can’t–i can’t do it like you could. i don’t know how to make waffles the way she likes them. i don’t know the airplane sounds you used to do at bedtime. she asked me last night if you still brush the stars with your plane and i–” you stop. you choke on the sentence. then laugh through the tears.

“you’d be so smug right now, wouldn’t you? hearing that. you’d say something like ‘told you she was gonna be a handful just like me.’ and then you'd flash that dumb grin and i’d want to punch you but kiss you at the same time.” you look down at the marble and press your hand over it.

“i miss your voice,” you whisper. “your stupid jokes. the way you used to braid my hair for me.” you look at the stone again, and something crumbles in your chest.. something deep. you couldn’t let go.. you don’t want to. coming to terms with him being gone would be the end of you, and you knew it. this was your soulmate. the soulmate who is now laid down in the ground, never to return, and you had to just.. live on? 

“god, i loved you,” you say.  and now you’re sobbing. “i loved you so fucking much.” you lean forward, forehead resting lightly against the stone. the breeze picks up around you, brushing through your hair, tugging gently at your sleeves. you felt delusional as you think that maybe the tugging was him in the afterlife.. some sort of comfort yields to you.

you close your eyes. you stay like that for a long time. just breathing. just existing in the space where he should still be. “i’ll take care of her,” you whisper finally. “i swear. i’ll make sure she remembers how soft your hands were. how you laughed when she tried to salute you. how you cried when she called you daddy for the first time.”

“but you’re gonna owe me for this,” you add, voice hoarse. “when i see you again, you’re explaining everything.”

you pause. smile, just barely. “and you’re making waffles.”

three days later

the house is quiet. the kind of quiet that feels heavy, like it’s waiting for something. your daughter’s at school. you packed her lunch this morning with shaking hands and kissed her forehead twice before she ran off with her backpack bouncing behind her. she’s resilient. But she’s tired around the eyes lately. quieter.  you didn’t say anything. she didn’t either. 

you told yourself you’d clean. maybe eat something. instead, you’re here. kneeling in front of the box again. the one that’s been sitting on the floor beside the couch since the funeral. untouched.  you’d meant to leave it closed for a while.  give yourself space. time.  but that never really helps, does it?

you open it slowly, like it’s a wound you’re reopening on purpose. his jacket still smells like him. the notebook still rests inside, half-written. the photo of you is curled slightly at the corners. you press it flat again without thinking.

and then–  the flash drive.

small. black. a little chipped at the edge, but still intact. your name is written on the sticker in his messy handwriting. next to it, a tiny drawn heart.

you hesitate.

then you stand, walk to your laptop, and plug it in. it hums quietly as the screen flickers to life.

two folders appear. one labeled "for you." the other, "for our girl." you click the first one. a single video file. “if something happens.”

your heart starts pounding before you even hit play, tears brimming to life as you read that. you click. and there he is. your breath catches so hard you nearly sob right there. he’s sitting in what looks like the base’s rec room—his hair a little messy, flight suit unzipped just enough at the collar, like he’d rushed to record this. he’s smiling. not nervous. not rehearsed.

just him.“ hey,” he says, and the sound of his voice– god, it hits like thunder. you felt a shock, like the first time you heard him talk all those years ago. “if you’re watching this, something went wrong. and i hate that. i hate that you’re hurting.  but i didn’t want to leave without saying what i needed to. i'm hoping i can delete this video after i come back from my flight.”

you press your hand to your mouth. his eyes are soft. like he’s looking right at you.

“i love you. not just the easy kind of love. not the kind that fades. the kind that roots itself in your bones.  the kind that makes you want to be better, because i get to come home to someone like you.”

you watch him as he pauses, running a hand through his hair. your tears cascading down to your collarbone and beyond. you take deep breaths as you swallow just as hard.

“you made everything make sense. you gave me a life i didn’t think someone like me could have. and our daughter–”

he swallows. his eyes shine just a little.

“she’s the best thing i’ve ever helped create. every time she smiles at me, i think, how the hell did i get this lucky? and i couldn’t wait to give her a brother. or a sister. or both. i wanted more mornings.  more bedtime stories. more bothering mommy while she’s doing her woman stuff.  more late-night snack raids. i wanted it all with you.”

your shoulders shake. tears are spilling down your face, hot and uncontrollable. you don’t try to stop them. his voice keeps going, steady, like it’s holding you.

“if i’m not there– please tell her every single day that i loved her.  that i still do. and that i was trying to come home.”

he smiles, soft and full of everything he never got to say in person. even though he was persistently smiling, you could tell that his eyes glossed. he was trying to hold himself together.

“there’s another file on here. it’s for her. just… in case she ever needs me at night. i love you..”

the video ends. the silence it leaves behind is deafening. you stare at the dark screen, your reflection, then look down at your hand. you sob into your hand for a long time. the kind of grief that splits you apart, the kind that wraps you in warmth and ache at the same time.

eventually, with trembling hands, you open the second folder. “for our girl.” another video. you recognize the cover of the book instantly.

“the airplane that could.”

 her favorite. you hit play. and there he is again.

this time, sitting cross-legged on her bedroom floor, the book open in his lap.“ okay, kiddo,” he says, voice soft. “bedtime story, dad edition. you ready? his one’s for brave girls who fly high and land even higher.”

you laugh through your tears, hand pressed to your heart, as his voice fills the house again. reading each word like he’s still here. like he never left. and for a few minutes, he hasn’t.

you don’t know how long you sit there.

the laptop screen dims every few minutes and you keep tapping the touchpad to wake it, desperate not to miss a second. your fingers hover near the video file like they’ve made a habit of it already. you watch the story once. twice. three times.

and on the fourth playthrough, you press your palm to the screen. his image is pixelated under your skin. but it’s his voice that gets you.

the way he makes the little airplane’s “zoom!” sounds. the way he laughs when he trips over a sentence and mutters, “she’s gonna call me out for that one.”  the way he pauses after the final line and says, “night, kiddo. dream big. daddy loves you.”

you rewind that last part. three times. you don’t realize you’ve been crying again until a drop falls onto the keyboard. you wipe it away and sniff, laughing softly—like he’d just caught you.

the sun’s shifted by the time you hear the door open. your daughter’s back from school, jacket half-off, hair windblown from recess. she drops her backpack in the hallway, calls out, “mommy?” you swipe your cheeks with your sleeve. “in here, baby.”

she walks in, still hugging her stuffed rabbit, and climbs up beside you on the couch. her head rests against your shoulder like she’s done it every day of her life.  you close the laptop for a moment.

“can i show you something?” you ask softly. she looks up. her eyes are wide, curious. “is it daddy?” you nod. “he made you something. before… before he left.” her lips press together, and for a second, you think she might say no. but then she nods. “okay.”

you open the file. press play. and you don’t watch the screen this time. you watch her. her eyes light up the second he speaks. “that’s daddy,” she whispers. her hand tightens around yours.

as he reads, she mouths along to her favorite parts. laughs when he makes the airplane noises. leans in when he says, “you can do anything, little flyer. you just have to believe.” you hear her whisper the words with him.  she’s memorized them. and when he finishes, “night, kiddo. dream big. daddy loves you.” she smiles through tears.

you’re crying again. silent. broken in the most beautiful way. she looks up at you.  “can we watch it again?” you nod.  “as many times as you want.”

and you hit replay. and you both sit there, curled together on the couch,  wrapped in a blanket watching the man you both loved  tuck her into sleep from somewhere beyond the sky.

a few days later

it’s raining. soft and steady, the kind of rain that doesn’t demand anything from you. the kind that just stays. your daughter is asleep—finally. she asked to hear “the airplane that could” twice tonight, and you let her. every word caleb read, every silly sound, every warm pause—it fills her room like he never left. you made tea but, you haven’t touched it.

instead, you sit on the floor of the bedroom in an old hoodie and sweatpants, the box beside you, your fingers resting on the envelope you still haven’t opened.  it’s thinner than you remember. lighter. but it feels like the heaviest thing in the world.

you run your thumb over your name again. the ink is slightly smudged, like he held it for a while before setting it down. and you take a breath– and you open it.

the paper shakes in your hands as you unfold it. it’s his handwriting. no doubt. you’d know it anywhere—slanted, a little messy, confident.

you read:

my girl, my woman, my wife, my life, if you're reading this, something happened. and if something happened, you’re hurting. and god, if i could change that, if i could tear the sky open just to get back to you, i would. i’d do it a thousand times.but this is my backup plan. because you always said i needed one. so here it is. my heart on paper.

your hand flies to your mouth. your eyes burn. you keep reading.

first: i love you. not just the everyday kind of love.  but the kind of love that made me rethink everything.  the kind of love that made base housing feel like a palace, made ramen feel like a meal, made 3am deployment calls feel like they could wait a few more minutes because you were still asleep on my chest. i love the way you laugh. the way you fight. the way you love. i love the way you yell at me from the hallway to get my clothes out of the washer. i want more with you. i wanted more. more babies. yeah, i said it imagine a tiny version of you with my ears–terrifying.  but perfect. i wanted to put another crib in the corner of our room. i wanted to teach our daughter how to ride a bike, and let you laugh at me when i ran beside her like an idiot. i wanted home with you. every version of it. i was gonna ask for the instructor position when i got back.  no more deployments. no more taking off without knowing if i’d come home. i was ready to teach. to stay. because you made staying feel like the only dream worth chasing.

you stop. your vision is too blurry. you blink, wipe your face, your chest heaving. but you keep reading.

but if i don’t come back– promise me something. i know that i told you before that i’m obsessed with you– deeply devoted– and i am. i always will be, and i wanted you to be the same.. but this is different now.. don’t put your heart in a box with my name on it. don’t shrink just to keep loving me. be happy. fall in love again if you want to. raise our daughter to be wild and brave and soft the way you are.and when the house is quiet, and the world feels big and empty, pull out the notebook. it’s all in there. the first day i saw you. the night i almost kissed you but chickened out. the fight we had over burnt toast. it’s messy. real. it’s me.and it’s yours. always yours. —caleb

your hands are shaking. you fold the letter against your chest and sob. not the sharp, sudden kind. this one is slow. broken. like letting go and holding on at the same time.

you reach into the box, pull out the notebook. the leather cover is worn. familiar. you press your lips to it.  you don’t open it. not yet. but you will.

and when you do, you know it’ll be like hearing his voice again. not a goodbye. just a continuation. just love, written in the only language he had left. you stare at your tea that’s been on your table this entire time. it was cold, long forgotten. you look at the window, watching and listening to the rain still hitting against the glass. finally, you look back at the book, tracing the edge of the notebook with your thumb for a long time. just sitting there. the only thing that matters is what’s inside this worn leather cover.

you open it slowly. his handwriting greets you like an old song. the first page is dated 6 years ago. early fall. just two weeks into your first year of college.

september 9 dorms are hell,  someone stole my towel and i think my roommate sleeps with his eyes open.but today i saw her. i don’t know her name. she was in the common room, sitting cross-legged in front of a vending machine like she was trying to make peace with it. said it ate her dollar and she refused to let it win. she had on a nasa sweatshirt that was way too big, and i think she’d forgotten she had a pencil behind her ear. she muttered something about orbital mechanics and kicked the machine. it gave her a snickers. i think i’m in love.

you laugh. it slips out through the tears, a sound you didn’t think you could still make.  a memory rises with it– you, hunched in front of that vending machine, furious and hungry and too broke to lose another dollar and him, standing behind you with a bag of chips and a look on his face like you’d just rewritten the sky.

you turn the page.

september 15 her name is gorgeous. she’s in my aero engineering lecture. i sat two rows behind her and spent half the class trying to think of something cool to say if we bumped into each other outside. i said “hey.” she said “you look like the kind of guy who brags about parallel parking.”i don’t know what that means but i think she’s right.

you cover your mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter and ache. god, he remembered every detail. the next few pages are scattered—little notes about campus, sketches of planes, scribbled song lyrics he never finished.  but you keep flipping. page after page of a boy slowly falling in love with a girl he hadn’t even kissed yet.

october 3 she said she wanted to be the kind of woman who builds things that fly. said it with her eyes half-closed, on the roof at 2am, wearing my hoodie like it already belonged to her. i don’t even remember letting her take it, but it looks better on her.  i told her i wanted to fly them. she said, “guess that means we’re stuck with each other.” i wanted to kiss her. i didn’t. i just said “yeah.” i should’ve kissed her.

you’re crying again. you hold the journal to your chest, just for a second. because he wrote these things for himself. but maybe, deep down, he always hoped you’d read them one day.

and now you are. and he’s here again,  word by word, memory by memory– falling in love with you on the page, like he never stopped.

you flip through the journal carefully, the pages worn and full of little smudges from where his hand must’ve lingered. his writing gets a little more rushed as the months go on—like his heart was moving faster than his pen could keep up.

you find it, tucked between two pages. a folded napkin taped inside– faded ink, the logo from that burger place near campus.  and beneath it, a date you’ll never forget.

october 14 – first date i picked her up at 7. i say “picked up,” but we both know i walked across campus in a panic, stopped twice to fix my jacket, and almost tripped on my shoelace outside her dorm. she was already waiting by the door. hair tied back. that stupid nasa sweatshirt again. she smiled at me and i forgot my own name.

you laugh, pressing your fingers to the page. you remember it exactly– how he blinked at you for a full five seconds before remembering to speak.

we went to that burger place with the wobbly tables and the jukebox that only plays sad 80s songs. she said she liked the milkshakes there. i said “me too.” i don’t even know how the milkshakes tasted. i just wanted to match her. she talked about stars and i listened like they were falling out of her mouth.

your chest aches. you flip the napkin up to read what’s scribbled underneath.

she drew a rocket on this napkin. i told her it looked like a shoe. she punched my arm. i’ve never felt more in love. after dinner we walked back to campus. slow. like we didn’t want the night to end. she said her favorite part was when i didn’t talk too much. i said my favorite part was when she laughed with her head tilted back. she said that was a dumb favorite. i said i was a dumb guy. and then– she looked at me. really looked. i stopped breathing. in love or terrified? the world may never know.

your heart’s pounding. you turn the page.

she asked me if i was going to kiss her or just stand there looking like a scared intern.i panicked and said “both?” she kissed me. it was fast. messy. perfect. she pulled away smiling.  i didn’t know where to put my hands.  i think i said “wow.” stupidstupidstupid she said, “took you long enough.”

your hands are trembling as you close the journal for a moment, hugging it to your chest.  you can still feel that night. the cool air. the neon lights of the diner behind you. the taste of vanilla shake on his lips. the way he looked at you like you were a miracle he’d never stop believing in.

he wrote it all down.  because even then–  he knew: he knew he’d love you forever.

you flip further into the journal. the entries start to space out a little, scattered between class notes, training schedules, coffee stains. but one page stands out—creased at the corners, the words pressed harder into the page like he couldn’t write them fast enough.

bold letters across the top:

november 17 – I WON.

you smile immediately.

i fucking won. nationals. first place. best time of my life. my lungs are burning. my legs feel like they might fall off.  my hands won’t stop shaking. and all i keep thinking is— she was there. she saw me. her voice was the only one i could hear.

you remember it. you feel it still—your throat sore from screaming, the way your hands ached from clapping, your whole body buzzing with pride.  you were near the front, right by the finish line. you jumped so high when he crossed, you nearly fell over the railing.

she was wearing my jacket. the big one. said it made her feel “official.” i saw her before the race—she blew me a kiss and said “don’t lose. i bet snacks on you.” i think that’s when i knew i had to win. couldn’t let her down. or lose snacks.

you laugh, pressing your fingers to the words. he was always like this—charming and ridiculous and so sincere it hurt.

when i crossed the finish line, i didn’t even look at the clock. i looked for her. found her jumping up and down, hands cupped around her mouth, yelling like she wanted the world to know i was hers. i’ve never felt more like i belonged to something.  not the medal. not the track. her. she ran down to meet me after. shoved people out of the way like it was life or death. she threw her arms around me before i could even catch my breath and kissed my stupid, sweaty face. said, “my champion.” i wanted to cry. i wanted to marry her. i will.

you close your eyes. the sound of the crowd still echoes in your ears. his arms around you, shaking from the race, from the weight of it all. how he buried his face in your neck like the win didn’t matter half as much as the fact that you were there. how he whispered, “i did it for you.”

he always did.

december 12 – i said it. i told her i love her. and i meant it so hard i thought my chest might give out.

your breath catches before you even turn the page.

it wasn’t supposed to happen like that. not that night. not like that. we weren’t dressed up. there weren’t candles. it was just us. just the couch.  just a shitty movie playing in the background. she was curled up next to me, stealing all the blankets. hair a mess. feet cold. skin warm. she was ranting about something—some professor she didn’t like, or the terrible sandwich she had for lunch.  and i wasn’t even listening. not really. i was just looking at her. and i thought, god. i love you. and it came out.  just like that. out loud.

your fingers tremble as you turn to the next page.

she stopped talking. just blinked. looked at me like i’d thrown a brick through the window. i panicked.  i froze.  i didn’t even try to take it back. i just said it again. “i love you.”and then, quieter: “i didn’t mean to say it right now. i just—i mean it.”

you laugh—soft, broken, a sound from somewhere deep.  you remember the way he said it.  like it had been sitting behind his teeth for months.

she stared at me for a second. and i swear, my whole life happened in that silence. then she kissed me.  slow. full. like she was trying to memorize me.. sappy... and then she whispered, “took you long enough.”

your chest tightens. your fingers press to the page like touching his words might let you feel him again.

i don’t care how long i live— that moment? that kiss? the way she smiled after? that’s the one i’ll take with me. that’s the one i’ll keep. forever.

you close the journal against your heart.  tears fall in silence. not from pain— not only. but from knowing, absolutely, that you were loved. so fully. so honestly. and that even now, he’s still loving you in every word he ever left behind. your lips tremble as you part your lips, “why’d you have to defend this country you stupid man.. you should’ve just became a fucking scientist or something.” you half laugh half hiccup as you held the journal tighter against you.

after some time you peel from it, readying yourself for the next excerpts.

april 4 – first time. i don’t know how to write this without it sounding like every dumb teenage diary in every coming-of-age movie, but— we slept together. and yeah, it was sex.  but it was more than that. it was her hands in my hair when i couldn't stop shaking.  it was how she made me feel safe even when i felt like i didn’t know what the hell i was doing. i’ve never been looked at like that before.  like i was something worth loving. like i could mess up and still be enough. she kissed my shoulder after and whispered,  “we’re good, yeah?” and i said,  “we’re so good, baby.” and i meant it with every damn cell in my body.

august 28 – the scare. she was late. not by a day. by five. i didn't sleep the whole week. and it’s not that i wasn’t ready—hell, i don’t know if anyone’s ever ready.  but i wasn’t scared of being a dad. i was scared of what it might do to her. of her giving up the sky she wanted for diapers and night feeds and stress.but when she told me it was a false alarm— we just sat in the bathroom, laughing.  half from relief, half from how stupidly close we felt to everything changing. and i think that’s when i knew. if it had been real, i’d have loved that kid so hard they’d never doubt who their father was. because she’d be the mother. and that alone would’ve made them magic.

february 2 – ring shopping, kinda.  okay, okay.  technically i said we were helping james pick out a ring for his girlfriend. technically, that wasn’t a lie. but also, i wanted to see what she’d pick.  what made her eyes light up.  what styles she hated.  what made her whisper, “i could wear something like that forever.” and damn, she did. there was this one—gold, thin band, little oval-shaped diamond tucked in the center. she didn’t even say much about it. just touched the glass in front of it and smiled like she saw a future. our future. i didn’t buy it that day.  but i went back.  and i swear, when the time comes— i’ll put it on her finger like a promise. like everything i am belongs to her.

you didn’t think it would hit this hard.

you thought this one would be sweet. nostalgic. the kind of memory you keep behind glass and smile at when no one’s looking.  but the second your eyes land on the words

your throat tightens. you know this one.

you pull the journal closer, your thumb resting against the page, and you start to read.

may 25 – graduation. i asked her. i was valedictorian.  they called my name last. the applause was loud. i smiled, shook hands, made jokes. i gave a speech. i don’t even remember half of it. because all i saw was her. and i also forgot my speech paper at home.

your eyes sting immediately. you bite down gently on the inside of your cheek—like maybe if you anchor yourself hard enough, you won’t fall apart. you remember where you sat that day. front row.  wearing his jacket even though it was warm out. hands trembling in your lap.

she was front row. wearing my jacket. eyes red from crying. hands clutched in her lap like she was trying not to run up onstage and tackle me.

you let out a shaky breath, tears sliding slowly down your cheek.  it’s like watching a memory through someone else’s eyes—but it’s yours. it always was.

i had the ring in my pocket the whole time. heart racing so hard i thought it would give out. after the speech, i asked her to come up.  she looked confused. nervous. and when she finally walked up there— i dropped to one knee in front of the entire class.

you smile through the tears. god, the way the crowd erupted.  how you covered your mouth and shook your head in disbelief, even though you knew. you always knew.

i said, “i want to fly a thousand missions and still come home to you.  i want to grow old with you before i grow old in the cockpit. will you marry me?” and she said yes.

you press your fingers to your lips, like you can still feel the kiss you gave him onstage—fast, breathless, the only answer you could give.  Yes.  a hundred times yes.

i’ve never won anything more important.  not the title. not the speech. her. she’s it.

you close the journal slowly, but your fingers stay pressed to the cover, unmoving.

his handwriting still lingers behind your eyelids. the way he wrote her—not even your name, just her, like it was enough.  like it said everything. and maybe it did. you lean back against the couch, cradling the journal like a heartbeat.  your voice is barely a whisper when you say it out loud.

“you were it for me too.”

you open to the next entry. the page feels heavier.

september 10  – wedding day. i don’t know where to start. maybe with the way her hands shook when she laced them with mine. maybe with how she kept adjusting her veil like it wasn’t already perfect. maybe with the way i saw her walking toward me and forgot how to breathe.

you exhale shakily. your hand lingers on the ink where he pressed a little harder—where he wanted the words to stay loud, like that moment still echoed in his chest.

she looked like sunlight.  like warmth. like she was born to ruin me and rebuild me in the same breath. and god, she did.

you smile through the tears, lips trembling. you remember the way he cried first. you remember laughing at him—softly, not to tease, but because it was so unmistakably caleb to weep like that and pretend he wasn’t.

she made fun of me for crying.  i said, “have you seen yourself?” she rolled her eyes.  and then she promised forever. and i promised it back. with every cell in my body.

your smile was forlorn. you stared at this entry just a bit longer than the others.. eventually you flip to the next entry, dated not long after.

november 14 –she’s pregnant. i’m writing this with both hands shaking. she told me this morning. came into the room holding that little test like it was a secret, like if she said it too loud the moment might disappear. i was brushing my teeth. i almost dropped the toothbrush. and then she said, “you okay?”and i said, “i think i’m in love with you all over again.”

you cover your mouth. you remember the way he dropped to the floor like his legs gave out. how he kissed your stomach before you even had a bump.  how he whispered, “we’re gonna be parents,” like it was something holy.

she kept pacing. said she wasn’t ready. said she was scared.and all i could think was— i get to build a life with her. a home. a child who’s half her, half me.and if this baby has even an ounce of her fire— the world better watch out. …maybe we should name it apple.

your eyes squeeze shut. your hand shakes against the page.

 august 12 –  she’s here. our daughter. i don't even know how to start this. i've rewritten the first line seven times. nothing feels big enough. no words feel like they belong to what just happened. but she's here. our little girl. and she’s perfect. her name sounds different when i say it out loud now.  heavier. real.  it used to be a name we whispered over dinner. a maybe. a dream. now it’s a person. a whole person. and she has my eyes. i swear to god the second they handed her to me— i thought the whole world paused. like even time wanted to watch.

you smile through the tears. your fingers rest over the date on the page, like holding it might take you back to that room—where everything changed.

you flip through more pages, just details of his experiences with your daughter. he was sweet, adoring, and the sweetness may have fooled you if your eyes didn’t land on this page;

february 18 –  i’m leaving in the morning. deployment orders came in. she tried so hard not to cry. held our daughter in one arm, kissed my cheek, told me she’d hold the sky down till i came back. she always says things like that—poetic and steady.  like if she can speak it into the world, it’ll make it true.i wanted to believe her. i do believe her. but i’m scared. not of the mission.  not of flying. i’m scared of missing too much.

march 4 – base is loud. hot. everyone’s tired. i think about them all the time. i have a picture taped to the inside of my locker—one of the three of us on the couch, blankets everywhere, popcorn stuck to our shirts. my daughter’s head is in her mom’s lap.  her mom is laughing. i look like i’ve already won the war. i stare at that photo every morning before briefing. whisper to it,  “i’m coming home. wait for me.”

you flip through more entries, until you get to the last page. you almost didn’t want to read it. head light, breath staggered, the paper felt thinner now. you take a deep breath– or as best as you possibly can, and continue.

may 3 – in case something happens. i need this written down. i don’t know why i feel like writing this now.  maybe it’s just a quiet night.  maybe the wind sounds different. maybe love makes you preemptive. just in case. if i don’t make it home— if you’re reading this—god, i hope you know i loved you with everything i had. from the moment you kicked a vending machine to the day you said “i do.”  from the time you placed our baby girl in my arms to the last voice note you sent before this mission. you’ve been my gravity.  my sky. my reason to fight, and the softness i always returned to. and if i don’t get to hold her again—  tell her i never stopped trying.  tell her she’s brave like her mommy.  and kind. and funny. and too smart for this world. tell her i was hers from the first time i felt her kick. and you. you, baby— live. laugh again. love again. fall asleep in someone’s arms and know that it’s okay. you were my forever. and i’ll be waiting at the edge of every sky. until you find me again.

his final entry is burned into your mind. the words feel heavier than paper has any right to be.  your hands are shaking. your lips part like you want to say something, maybe to him, maybe to the empty room—  but nothing comes out. just air.  shallow. trembling.

you press the journal to your chest like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the earth.  and then it hits. not slowly. not gently. like a punch straight through your ribcage. the kind of grief that doesn’t knock. it takes. your body curls in on itself. your shoulders begin to shake.  and the first sob breaks out of your throat like it’s been waiting days to escape. you try to muffle it— fist pressed against your mouth, breath caught halfway between a gasp and a cry.  but it keeps coming. a second sob. then a third. and then you’re full-on breaking.

you bury your face into the hoodie still stained with his cologne, the one you’ve worn three nights in a row.  your knees draw up to your chest, arms wrapped tight around yourself like you’re trying to hold your heart in place.

you can’t wake her.  your daughter is down the hall. so you cry as quietly as you can. but the pain still slips through.  in your breathing. in the way your body rocks slightly like he used to do when she cried in the middle of the night.  like you’re trying to soothe yourself the way he would’ve done.

you were my forever.  and i’ll be waiting at the edge of every sky.

your hand presses to your mouth to stifle the next sob, but it still escapes—loud enough to crack through the silence,  not loud enough to wake her.

you whisper his name. once.  twice.  like a prayer that’ll never stop aching.

and then, quieter: “i miss you, caleb. i don’t know how to do this without you.”

you sit there in the dark, with his words against your heart and your tears soaking the only piece of him you still have left to hold. and for the first time in days,  you let yourself fall completely apart. because tonight,  you don’t have to be strong. not for her.  not for anyone.

just for this—  this goodbye you never got to say, and this love that never stopped living inside you.

a few days later

the house is quiet. soft sunlight spills through the kitchen windows, painting the floor in gold. the kind of morning that doesn’t ask much of you, just presence. just breath.

you’re at the sink, mindlessly rinsing dishes that weren’t even that dirty. the journal still lives on the table behind you. closed, but not untouched.  you haven’t opened it again—not yet. you will. just… not yet.

and then— the front door swings open.

“mommy!” your daughter calls, her voice high and full of breathless excitement.

you turn, startled. she’s carrying a basket. no, dragging it, really—too big for her tiny hands, but she’s determined. a woven handle hangs off her wrist, stuffed to the brim with pastel-colored wrapping and little ribboned items peeking through the top.

she marches straight into the kitchen and sets it down with a loud thud.  you blink at it.

“baby… what’s all this?”

she beams, huffing and puffing, “lukey and kiereny’s dad gave it to me at pickup! he said it’s for you!” you freeze. luke and kieren. you know those names. they’re in her class. and their dad— that’s…

you kneel down slowly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “he gave you this? for me?”she nods hard.  “he said it was to make you feel better. and he said you could call him if you were sad.” you glance at the basket—carefully curated, clearly thoughtful.

bath bombs in calming scents. artisan chocolate. a small jar of lavender honey. a soft-rolled pair of cozy socks.

and nestled between everything, a sealed envelope with your name written across it.

you take it with gentle fingers. your daughter leans against your arm, watching. you unfold the note.

i’m sorry for your loss. i understand how you feel. if you ever need anybody, don’t hesitate to reach out to me.

— sylus

and below was his phone number.

you read it twice. then a third time. short. simple. but it lands softly in your chest like something warm against all the cold. he didn’t overstep. didn’t try to fix it.  he just… offered his hand.

you let out a slow breath, blinking hard. “do you know him?” your daughter asks, looking up at you. you smile—small, tired, but real.  “not really,” you say. 

“but maybe i will.”

[invincibledc]

more kole?☹️

⋆˙⟡ACTIONS OF LOVE! ⋆˙⟡

⋆˙⟡ KOLE ANDERS (OC) X BATSIB!READER⋆˙⟡

SYNOPSIS: the actions of love he does for you

GENRE: fluffy fluff fluff! <3

INFO: this OC is an OC I’ve written for my own amusement. He’s the adoptive son of Kori/Starfire. Full HUMAN name, Kole Anders. His Tamaranean name is Koldond'r. Reader is the twin sibling of Damian, but Damian is the older twin of course. Im only a writer so you can imagine who he looks more like but all I can is he is handsome canonically, plus freakishly tall like a Tamaranean should be.

WORDCOUNT: 1,488

He always showed his love towards you, he’s an affectionate guy.

ACTS OF SERVICE.

He helps with missions, he could never say no to you, and vice versa. You would see him flying or floating above you, his glowing-filled green eyes and fiery red hair.

Part of his red hair was glowing from red to yellow like a burning bright flame. His golden skin showed off the contrast of it all.

“Hello!” he says excitedly, watching you knock a bad guy out. He floats to the ground, smiling brightly as his hair flows majestically. “Any problem, my friend?” he questions, you ignored him, not in the mood for some tall ass boy to talk to you as you tie up the goon.

You didn't notice how he stared at you, watching you closely, watching you struggle to lift the guy. Maybe it was time to stop bed rotting during the weekend and work out hard like Damian.

Just as you grunted, the 6-foot alien boy with fiery hair, picked up the man with no issues. Putting the heavy male over his broad shoulders.

Staying quiet—you nodded and answered your comms to alert your father, aka Bruce, that you caught that suspect he wanted for his investigation.

He also helps you with air support missions. This guy will never let you down, not even wanting you to touch the ground. His adoptive mother taught him well! Thanks to Kori, he’s a good gentleman that will always be by your side.

Like the one time you wore uncomfortable shoes once to a hangout with him, he picked you up like as if this was a fairytale. With one arm, you were lifted on the said arm. He smiled up at you, “Feeling better?” “y-yes.. Uhm. Thank you, Kole.”

“No problems!”

PHYSICAL TOUCH.

Physical touch, he is the definition of it. The moment he has the time, he’s clutching your hand into his. His eyes shine so colorfully when he notices his hand is bigger than yours. He would poke at your fingers with such a cute face. Pulling out a face like “:3”, as you stare at him chuckling.

“So small… you are certainly adorable y/n.” he gave you an eye-closed smile before he kissed your cheek.

When you both started to date, the touches didn't change except for the kisses. He always was the one to constantly have a hand on you.

Hand on your waist, hand on the shoulder, hand in hand, etc. All small touches and he was living for it.

The moment you give this Tamaranean a small kiss on his lips or cheek, his hair goes ablaze.

It all happened one day, you were fatigued. Rubbing your eyes—you noticed a certain Tamaranean male who was watching cartoons.

Trying to understand all kinds of human entertainment on the bug screen. You didn't even process what you did next as you sat by him, giving him a quick kiss.

His green eyes blew up brightly, along with his hair as immediately as soon as that kiss made contact, his hair blew in flames.

With a yelp, you jerked back to see his flushed tanned cheeks and his wide-like eyes. He turned towards you, “Please… my darling, don't do that again. I do not wish to harm you.” He says so softly. That was before he gave you a big kiss to pay back the small kiss you gave him.

So watch out when you do this unexpectedly, he may set someone on fire due to how sometimes his emotions can affect his fiery hair just like solar energy.

Dont also get him started on cuddling. He fiens for cuddling, he lives always having his body against yours.

Like a damn cat, he would lay his whole body across your lap, not daring to move—he smiles at you with his handsome curls.

You gently run your hands through his curls, you give him such a soft smile. And just like that, his body is burning up so easily. He hides himself into your stomach.

He’s never coming out of that hiding spot, cause you can just feel his stupid smile against your abdomen.

WORD OF AFFIRMATION.

Word of affirmation, he's a god at that.

You could be feeling like dirt if you didn't do well when training yourself, and he’ll be like, “You got this sweetie!” and your brothers (dick) will be like, “Awww..” while the others (mostly Damian and Jason) are like “Ew, love.” either way, Kole is a sweet boy.

He doesn't care even while battling monsters or goons, he’ll say that you did a good job.

Kole was flying around uphead, blasting enemies with his laser eyes. As a green beam strikes a rock monster down, he watches how you did a hand back spring over one of the monster’s heads—that was before grabbing their head and slamming them down.

He flew past you, leaving you just with a fire trail of his hair—you look in his direction of where he flew to see two thumbs-ups.

“Wonderful takedown Robin!” he says loud and proud.

Your face blew up, not expecting him to outright yell it out. He didn't seem to be embarrassed as he hurled a star bolt at another monster, puncturing a hole into the middle of the monster.

Best person to get compliments—like that one time during a gala, he was smitten with you. Always smiling such a goofy smile and throwing compliments left and right.

“You look beautiful/handsome!”

“The outfits suit you, I mean—you always look amazing.”

“You have pretty eyes.”

That last one was because he couldn't stop staring at your eyes. He loves your eyes like you like his.

Meanwhile, this was going on, Dick made a phone call to Kori.

“Kori… I'm so happy to meet my brother-in-law,” he says dramatically.

QUALITY TIME.

Quality time, oh boy!! This tamaranean loves spending time with you!

Whether it's a mission, patrols, teen titans meeting, or just full-on dates. The minute you text him, “Hey wanna spend time?” he’s flying straight to the manor with a green trail behind him due to his eyes glowing bright and his hair flaming with a whole bunch of emotions.

He almost smashes into your window—breaking it almost, you looked at the window when you heard a faded tap against it.

No joke, you jolted from your bed to see “menacing” green eyes staring back into your own [color] eyes.

“I-I’m here!” He says softly loud, it’s late at night. He wishes to not disturb other’s sleep for his time over here. Opening the window, you were pummeled by an eager golden-skinned teenage boy who smiled softly.

“Hi.”

“…hello, beloved.”

He just smiles at you, not even blinking as you stare back. This always happens awkwardly where you both stare at each other.

I mean, Damian does it to Jon, and Jon just plays along with it.

I’d say if you were grounded, and couldn't have anyone over... *cough cough* Kole *cough cough*. Kole would listen to Bruce because that man trained him along with Kori.

But, he can't deny a simple request from his lover that they are feeling lonely. He’ll feel bad because he wouldn't want to feel lonely either.

He sleekly opens the apartment window, fleeing to Gothman city. What he doesn't know is that his mother walks into his room with a knowing smile.

She chuckles and closes the door, “Teenage love..” she says this while her head.

RECEIVING GIFTS.

Oh lord, he's an abominable gifter. And not because he gives you gifts, no. It's because he always spends BADLY on you.

Although there were times he brought you tamaran cultured foods, bringing you Pudding of Sadness when you didn't do good on a test and felt down in the dumps. Yeah, he didn't know your human stomach couldn't handle it as you threw up the next minute in your bedroom bathroom.

Patting your back, he frowns as he eats the Pudding of Sadness now. He can't let it go to waste!

He gifts you roses, hoodies, and weird jewelry. He once had flown to space for a mission and came back with a rock from a planet.

Handing it over to you—he smiled, “It reminded me of you!” he said while you gave him an awestruck expression.

“Awww, this is so sweet of you, my beloved.” you gave him a soft peck on his cheek and he instantly clung to you.

It's even worse when you both get older, you both could be living in a cute small apartment. You would possibly walk in from your shift as a normal person, and there is Kole with his long curls in a ponytail. He had a meteorite shaped into a lovely ring. It was a sweet gift, you cried whilst he kissed your head.

The small kisses on your face were filled with love, he places the ring onto your ring finger.

You never thought he could get you such a nice gift…