#what hurts is less on that n more on what it emotionally means for me

[noxtivagus]

rmb when ffxiv did that with ardbert 🥺

[mrchiipchrome]

Call Your Girlfriend

W.C. - 2.2k

This is a prologue to ‘New Girlfriend’ but I might make another version of it to give this a different ending…

Also much love to Robyn who made my childhood and the song this is based on:)

—————————————————————

“Call your girlfriend, it’s time you had the talk.” The laughter died down just the moment before Olga utter the words Alexia dreads. She knew that what she was doing was wrong, that going out with another woman when you were at home waiting at home for her was cruel. Yet she still did it.

“What?” Alexia watches as the girl beside her rolls her eyes, bringing her lukewarm drink up to her lips to take a quick sip. It doesn’t soothe her dry throat, the saliva in Alexia’s mouth turning thick and making it hard for her to accentuate her words.

“Don’t play dumb with me Alexia, it doesn’t suit you.” Olga’s eyes soften when she notices Alexia’s almost crestfallen look, taking the Barcelona captain into her arms.

“I don’t think I’m ready.” Alexia mutters into the fabric of the other girl’s dress, the badly lit pub barely letting her see her ‘girlfriend’ much less the judgemental look she gets from the bartender every time she looks in their direction.

“I don’t want to be a secret anymore, I don’t want to sneak around like this. And it’s not fair to Y/n to keep this from her any longer, it’s only going to hurt her more if we wait.” Olga strokes the midfielder’s hair, speaking carefully so as to not make her girlfriend feel any worse by the situation.

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to tell her, ‘hey Y/n, I went behind your back and got into a relationship with another woman, hope you’re okay with that because there’s really not a lot you can do here, adios!’” Alexia is sarcastic when she replies to the woman currently holding her, running her hands over her face the moment Olga shifts her grip to settle on her arms instead of her back.

“No Alexia, just call her and say that you two need to talk, then just let your heart take over, she’s going to understand what you’re going through and accept it.” Olga reassures the footballer softly, trying to get her to understand that she couldn’t dictate what Alexia were to say to her official girlfriend.

“I don’t think that she’s just going to accept us and move on, I mean would you?” The deep breath that Olga lets out signals to Alexia that she knew exactly what it was she was doing, and that it wasn’t working.

“Alexia, just do it, you don’t have to do it out here, maybe go to the bathroom for some privacy.” The football player nods her head confidently, picking up her phone and walking towards the bathroom with sure steps. Alexia has to reassure herself that her hands were shaking solely because of the alcohol coursing through her veins, and not because she was going to tell you about her affair.

Dialing your number was something she could do in her sleep by now, the familiar 10 digit number engraved into her brain with how many times she had used it. Her nail makes a cracking noise when she chews on it, the loud tone her phone gives out as it waits for you to pick up the phone is slightly more anxiety inducing than the quiet atmosphere of the bathroom.

“Amor? Has something happened? Do I need to pick you up somewhere?” Your voice was full of sleep, a groan slipping past your lips as you stretch, the uncomfortable couch basically a substitute for your bed by now. You wanted to stay up and wait for her every time she went out, no matter if she told you not to.

“No, no you don’t have to pick me up anywhere, but uhhh…we need to talk.” Alexia’s eyes shift to look at the different things drawn on the walls of the stall, a couple of phone numbers and a few doodles of random animals. Anything not to look at her phone, that would be like looking straight into your eyes. She couldn’t do that, not whilst knowing that she had cheated on you both emotionally and physically.

“What do you want to talk about? What’s happening?” The blankets rustling and the creaking of the couch tells Alexia that you sat up, the worried tone in your voice something that she couldn’t avoid no matter what she did.

“Us, we need to talk about us. Something has happened, something that’s not your fault at all, not even in the slightest. I did something stupid.” You can tell whatever is about to come out of her mouth is going to break your heart the second her voice trembles, the way it shakes with uncertainty and guilt. You can almost see her, sitting in a bathroom cubicle in a random pub, biting her nails as she tries to get the words out.

“What, did you cheat on me or something?” Alexia’s heart nearly stops at your joking tone, she knew that you used humour to cope with the difficult feelings, a mask of comedy something you often hid behind to make it all feel easier.

At Alexia’s silence you understand exactly what she had done, and you can almost feel the way your heart breaks into a million pieces. For a few moments there’s only the silence, the tense, charged silence that makes Alexia want to turn her phone off and return back to her side piece’s comforting arms.

“I-uh I met someone, someone who understands me and loves me unconditionally, and uh someone who knows how I’m feeling without needing to ask. I don’t know how or why, but I fell for her. It had nothing to do with you, not at all.” As Alexia talks she hears the eerie silence coming from your end of the line. She exhaled loudly when she’s done, almost like a weight was lifted off her shoulders.

“Why? Why would you do something like that?” Suddenly Alexia hears how you sniffle, and she can’t help but feel like she’s going to cry too. A few silent tears slip down her cheeks, the salt leaving tracks down her beautiful face. Despite everything, you still think that she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Please don't get upset. Please don’t cry.” The words come out as a wayward whisper, Alexia’s voice not strong enough to carry like it usually does. The strong captain of your team was no longer there, in her place was a cheating excuse of a woman.

“What do you mean? Are you fucking kidding me Alexia? Do you actually expect me to not cry as you throw a three year fucking relationship away like it’s yesterday’s news? Did you actually ever love me or was that a lie too?” The sobs between the words you speak makes Alexia’s heart feel like it’s tightening in her chest, she never wanted to make you cry. The guilt of her affair was slowly creeping up on her, every tear down your face cutting off a piece of her heart that you held.

“Don’t second-guess all my actions from the past few years because they were all genuine, I have never said an I love you that I didn’t mean. Come on Y/n, you know me, I never meant to hurt you or anyone else for that matter.” The way Alexia speaks so matter-of-factly just serves to make your heart break that much more, by now it has to be in at least a billion pieces.

But you didn’t know her, the words she spoke weren’t true, because your Alexia, the Alexia you fell in love with would never do something like that. She would never seek out another woman for comfort, the thought would never even cross your girlfriend’s mind.

“Do I know you? You’re not the Alexia that I fell in love with, the Alexia that I fell in love with would never break my heart into a billion pieces.” Alexia knows she deserves every harsh thing that you say, every cold flash going down her arms, every salty tear touching her lips, every single little thing that happened. You can hear the way she sniffles from your side of the phone, rolling your eyes at the way she was crying because of something she did to herself.

“I cannot help how I feel Y/n, I can’t help that I fell in love with someone else. Olga just gives me something that I didn’t even know I missed, the way she kisses me is different, the way she looks at me is different, the way she loves me is different. And I know that none of this makes any sense to you right now, but I just want you to know that I’m still your friend.” Alexia chooses her words carefully, to not hurt you even more than she already had. She needed you to know that she was there for you even though she had caused your hurt in the first place.

“Oh so we’re only friends now? Is that what you told her when you were out sucking face?” The words felt weird when they came out of your mouth, like they were foreign, like they didn’t belong being thrown at the woman you loved.

“No.” You laugh at the simple response, your eyes red and your face full of tear tracks, new ones being created every second.

“So she knew that I was your girlfriend and she still chose to go after you? Did you ever even think about how much it would hurt me when you were out fucking her?” It felt like your heart would break out of your chest, the way it pounded against your rib cage like a jackhammer. All the times Alexia would go out, saying that it was some event or a gathering she needed to attend, flashed in front of your eyes, the sheer amount of times making the tears start to fall once again.

“I can’t answer that.” Alexia hears the way you sigh, quite obviously getting your answer in her inexpressive one. You try to wipe the tears that just keep on coming, not making much progress at all in trying to get the stains off your face.

“How do you expect me to get over this, get over you? You have my heart in the palm of your hand and there’s no way that I can change that, no matter how much I hate you.” Alexia feels even more guilty at your sobbed confession, the sincerity in your voice leaving no questions to be answered. You were so utterly in love with her that you thought it wouldn’t ever disappear.

“You’ll learn. You’ll learn how to mend your own heart, you’ll learn how to love someone else, you’ll learn how to get over this heartbreak.” She speaks softly, like Olga did earlier as she explains to you how to live without her, how to fall in love with someone that wasn’t her.

“What if I don’t want to learn, what if I only ever want you?” It was like you’d opened up your chest to her, laid your heart bare for her to do whatever she wanted to, for her to crush between her slender fingers, for her to rip apart with her nails. You were so vulnerable, so weak, so dismantled in front of her that Alexia was taken aback, words stolen directly from her mouth.

“Then you’ll lead a life of misery, and I don’t want that for you. Please, go find someone for yourself, someone who makes you as happy as I once made you.” With the last breath of love that she’d give you in your lifetime, Alexia hangs up the phone.

A mix of sorrow and relief courses through her body as she exits the bathroom, feeling like a completely new woman. The weight of your relationship is no longer there to tie her down, no longer did she have to sneak around because there wasn’t anyone to hide from anymore. She was finally content for the first time in a long while.

“How did it go?” Olga asks her, fingers digging into the midfielder’s waistband. Her worried tone made Alexia relax, knowing that she had someone to go home to. She didn’t even think about you not having the same luxury anymore.

“Good, she accepted it.” Olga smiles at her, that beautiful smile that had Alexia falling head over heels for her, that smile that robbed you of your relationship.

“Let’s go home.”

As Alexia and Olga laid together in bed that night, cuddling and speaking soft words into the night air, you were back home, at the apartment you once shared with the brunette, crying until it felt like you couldn’t cry anymore.

You wrapped your arms around your own midsection, pretending that someone, anyone was there to comfort you right in that moment.

It was in that feeling of loneliness and heartbreak that you decided to take her advice.

You were going to learn how to love again, no matter what it took.

[nereidprinc3ss]

okay i know this is kind of a specific request but can you do something with professor Spence and uni reader where they get into a spat and argue bc she did something stupid and he gets mad and she’s like “noooo pls don’t be mad i hate when you’re mad at me I’m sorry🥺” bc she literally cannot function knowing she let him down (me with everybody) but he’s like super stubborn and goes all closed up and quiet so that he doesn’t like blow up on her until she finally says like “pls talk to me” and he’s all pissed and like “hell na bitch u crazy!🗣️‼️” but then later he’s like “it’s ok i love u but neva do that shit again ho” then they make up and it’s good again 🎀 ok i explained that so poorly (and comedically if i may) but i hope u get it and pls make it SO DRAMATIC bc I live for drama! like she steals test answers or something or does something that could like get her kicked out of school OR him lose his job 🤔 sigh … idk I’m leaving now. Also i LOOPOOOCE ORRKGOOVI love your fics. Luv em

hey girl (gender neutral) this made me laugh bc genuinely sometimes i write spencer so ooc that is what he sounds like. and i'm not sorry! anyway this is potentially a vyvanse fueled nightmare but i wrote it and i'm posting it MY BLOG MY RULES BITCHESSSS!!!! but genuinely read the content warning LMAO this one got a lil kick to it

warnings/tags: ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, fem!reader, spencer and r get into a for real argument like they're mean to each other, spencer is a lil toxic but its resolved, emotionally neglects reader just for a teeensy second but then he's really nice and sweet again, discussion of his past addic+ion, gets fluffy because i'm not EVIL, gets suggestive at the end bc i am secretly evil.......

a/n: i don't know whats happening. this confuses me just as much as it confuses you. its 3 am in the morning. im gonna post nice happy things soon. Gootbye

“I cannot believe you right now. I don’t even—I don’t even know what to say.” 

“Spencer, you don’t have to say anything. It has nothing to do with you, and I’m not looking for your approval.” 

He looks up from where he’d been rubbing his temples, like you’re a headache, eyebrows raised and lips parted in indignant disbelief. 

“Oh! You’re not looking for my approval? Well thank god for that, because if you were one of my students I would recommend expulsion to the board.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? I just said I don’t care about your opinion on this, much less your hypothetical opinion from some alternate universe where you have any authority over my education whatsoever.” 

“You distributed an answer key to half of your class! Objectively this is the kind of thing that gets people expelled. I don’t understand how someone so smart could do something so fucking stupid.” 

The words bite more than you were prepared for—but what hurts even more is how much he seems to mean them. In arguments past you’d both said things you didn’t mean, and then would immediately melt into I’m so sorry’s and the fight would resolve itself. Spencer’s clenched jaw and inability to make eye contact with you do not lend themselves to tender apologies. They cannot be attributed to miscommunication. 

You take a step closer to where he’s bracing himself against the countertop, arms crossed defensively in front of your chest. 

“Spencer, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was such a big deal. People cheat in college all the time.” 

Still no reply. His head shakes so minutely you wonder if you’re imagining it. Panic wells in your chest. 

“Please talk to me. I really hate when you ice me out. I’m sorry, okay? Just... please say something.” 

Finally, his eyes slide to you. They lack the fiery anger of moments ago but there’s not much softness there either. His normally warm gaze now feels too abrasive, too cold and sharp on your bare skin. You're exposed, much too soft for that grating look, and it feels like he can see everything that’s wrong with you. 

“Believe me when I tell you this. I am doing us both a favor by not speaking to you right now.” 

And then he’s leaving the kitchen—nothing but a breeze against your cheek and the sound of a door slamming to prove he was ever there. 

The apartment is silent. You stand in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of what to do next. Spencer very, very rarely gets angry at you to the point of neglect, and you know he’s doing his best with what was modelled for him as a child and his tendency to feel things so deeply it’s nearly disabling; but that doesn’t make it hurt much less. It doesn’t make you feel less abandoned or alone.  

You’re sad, and you’re still pissed, and maybe you’re in just a bit of shock as you robotically move back to your nest of blankets on the couch and resume your schoolwork. What else is there to do? Unless Spencer is right—unless you really are about to get expelled after getting the answer key for an upcoming test from a friend, who then gave it to another friend, and so on. But is that really your fault?  

It’s a struggle to stay focused as your mind keeps drifting back to Spencer in the other room, those cruel words and that cold steely look in his eye that isn’t supposed to ever be aimed at you. It’s not a secret that side of him exists, but it doesn’t belong in this apartment. It’s not something he needs to use against you. He’s supposed to be on your side. But instead, he’d said you should be expelled and essentially called you stupid. And now you’re doing homework for a class at a school you may not even be a student of come Monday. 

---------------------------------------------------

The sound of the office door opening forty-five minutes later spikes your blood pressure and simultaneously makes your heart flutter, because no matter how mad at him you might be, Spencer is still Spencer.  

He comes to stand behind the couch quietly, but you don’t acknowledge him. Maybe your typing gets a bit more aggressive, but aside from that you flat out reject his presence. 

“Can we talk?” 

You let him sweat for a minute as you finish your paragraph. 

“I don’t know, Spencer. Can we? Or are you not done with your temper tantrum?” 

“That is... well deserved,” he sighs, rounding the couch and tapping the bottom of your foot, signaling that he wants you to move your legs. You despise how automatically you comply, pulling your knees to your chest to avoid touching him as he sits next to you. There’s a long moment of silence, in which you resume typing. Spencer scoffs, leaning in slightly to peer at your screen. “Are you doing homework right now? I’m a complete asshole to you and you just... do your homework?"

“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?” you almost-yell, slamming your laptop shut and blinking away potential tears. “The only person I wanted to talk to called me stupid and fucking left!” 

The tears realize their potential once you admit the blunt truth. 

Spencer carefully moves your laptop and pulls you into his arms—and you just let him. There’s not much fight left in you. There wasn’t a lot to begin with. 

“I am so sorry, angel. You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have yelled, I shouldn’t have said what I said, I shouldn’t have walked away. I overreacted.” 

“Yeah, you really did,” you cry, allowing him to run his hand over your hair. “Why did you do that? Why were you so fucking mean?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he responds, betraying his own anxieties, and a new, unwelcome sense of trepidation slithers through your veins. 

“I was wondering that, too. Even as I was saying it, I knew—I knew it wasn’t what I wanted to be saying. And then I was in the other room and I wanted to be out here, and I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t. But I think I was just scared. Which—I know, doesn’t really make sense, but... I think about when Ethan dropped out of the academy, and ended up doing heroin in New Orleans for three years, and I think about when I almost left the BAU because I was so convinced I’d never get clean that I didn’t even want to anymore, and—and the idea of you losing your education and your direction like that terrified me, probably unreasonably, and I took it out on you. And I’m sorry.” 

“But I’m not like you or Ethan. You don’t have to worry about that. Even if I... even I do get in some sort of disciplinary trouble. That’s a road you don’t have to worry about me going down, ever.” 

He fixes some unseen wrinkle on your shirt.  

“Yeah, but, remember... I used to not be like me or Ethan either. Do you think twelve-year-old Spencer would have ever even considered that of the infinite realities and universes which exist, he was living in one where someday he’d be shooting up in the bathroom at work?” 

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head and burying your face in Spencer’s shoulder. The sound is more of a plea for him to be less descriptive than an answer to his rhetorical question. It’s still much easier for him to talk about that part of his life than it is for you to have to actually imagine it. You didn’t know him then, but you’ve seen pictures, and you know Spencer now, and it’s... it’s just too much. Too sad. 

“Okay,” he agrees soothingly, still playing with your hair. “I digress. My point is that literally anything is possible, and while it’s not necessarily likely, I more than anyone know that anxiety even over the most improbable of things is never completely unfounded.”  

You sniffle in response, too emotionally and physically exhausted to contribute much to the conversation by this point. Thankfully, Spencer can talk for two. An idiosyncrasy which you love and comes in handy every once in a while. He can play his own devil’s advocate; in this case, you. 

“But that doesn’t mean I get to take it out on you. Ever. I truly, truly, sincerely apologize for that. I never want to hurt you.” 

You let the apology sink into your skin like a salve, soothing every abrasion those earlier words had left in their violent wake. 

After a few minutes, you find the energy to ask a question that might best remain unanswered. 

“Are you still mad at me?” 

He’s quiet for a beat, seemingly contemplative as his fingers trace abstract patterns in a language all his own on your arm. 

“I’m not thrilled. But you were right earlier. It’s not my place to be mad at you for something like that.” 

“Mm... it’s a little bit your place. You’re an actual professor.” 

He chuckles. 

“At an entirely different university.” 

“Thank god,” you laugh. “You and me at the same school would be such an HR clusterfuck.”

While it’s almost a serious matter, the smile in his voice is evident. 

“Yeah... I, uh... try not to think about it.” 

“Okay, but seriously. In your professional opinion. Am I fucked? Like, do I need to prepare an appeal and character witnesses or whatever?” 

Spencer sighs. 

“It was incredibly reckless and irresponsible. You should be ready for disciplinary pushback from the schoolboard if you get caught. That being said... because over sixty of you got a hold of the answer key, I doubt anyone is getting expelled, and even if they did, it would likely only be the TA and the student he gave the key to. It’s my tentative, professional opinion that you’ll probably be fine.” 

You relax slightly, allowing a tension you didn’t realize was there to shed like an old skin. 

“I’m not gonna cheat again,” you promise on an exhale. It’s simply too much risk for too little reward.

Spencer’s response is quiet, and comes much faster than you’d expected. 

“Oh, I know you aren’t. Because if you do, you’re going to have to worry about disciplinary action from me. And I’m not nearly as nice as the dean of your school, darling girl.” 

But something about the way he says it—a thinly veiled threat/promise contrasted by a sweet kiss to your forehead—doesn’t exactly make academic honesty look all that exciting.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐒𝐮𝐢 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 6.1k

chapter summary: you and joel take your relationship to the next level.

warnings: themes of grief and loneliness, hurt/comfort, fluff, body painting, joel being a very lousy nude model, oral (male receiving), heavy petting, fingering, shower sex, edging, dirty talking

a/n: aaaaand we're BACK-- the hiatus is officially over and I am so ready to focus on this series. I've missed them so much and I hope you guys all did too 💗 also special thanks to @undercoverpena for cheering me on while I was writing this, love you to the moon and back bby xx

Chapter Eleven || Chapter Thirteen

Loneliness had never been a stranger to you. You had your own brand of it, like a homemade fig preserve. Being so close with it, you’ve added something from yourself, and in return, it has branded your personality in such a way that it has become hard to think there was anything but. 

For the longest time that special brand of loneliness had been your closest friend. During adulthood, you noticed how tired you were of asking for people to be emotionally aware of your needs, your wants. You were tired of spelling it out for them. Your parents weren’t like you, neither was Auggie. No one around you was emotional like you were, so you learned to keep it locked tight in your heart. You cried at night. You smiled during the day. You felt off and weird when family members hugged you and wept on your shoulder, you dissociated. You’ve noticed this, especially at your grandfather’s funeral. He was gone and you hadn’t shed a tear among the dark black fabrics. 

Auggie knew you did this, but alas, it didn’t really matter. 

So when you found a family emotionally rich despite not having much, it came as a mild shock to you. Sarah didn’t have these issues. She didn’t care if she was emotional or not, or if what she said came off as needy. The only emotional constipation you noticed was between brothers, but even that didn’t stop them from addressing what they felt during an argument. 

You were no stranger to emotional outbursts. Reading a book and eyes welling before you could finish a sentence. 

Now, you feel less lonely thanks to Joel, Tommy, and Sarah, each filling a different gap in your withered soul. But even that doesn’t stop the old habit of sewing your mouth shut. 

You wake with a heavy weight on your chest. It’s still dark, the sky a dark shade of royal blue. It’s actually a beautiful night. However, your eyes are blind to it. Your skin is damp with sweat. If you saw a nightmare, you don’t remember what it was. You remember going to bed uncomfortable, Tommy’s sad eyes branded into your lids like tattoos you both want to and don’t want to get rid of. 

You gradually rise from the bed, the thin summer quilt sliding off your now cold body. You shudder. It had been a long time since you last felt this way. Empty and lonely. It always feels like you have to suffer through these emotions on your own, your need to smile through it more prominent than anything else. 

You smack your lips together, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. You need water. Ice cold water. 

Going down the stairs you don’t think how dark it is, or how some particular shadows remind you of your childhood when you would wake up thanks to the jarring sound of mosquitos, looking for comfort downstairs where your grandparents were usually up. Fuck, your chest is even heavier now. The muscle in your chest more like a cannonball than heart. You’re hyper-aware of the way your chest rises and falls with every breath and quickly, you make your way to the kitchen. 

The light of the fridge momentarily blinds you but despite your burning irises you manage to wrap your fingers around the familiar handle of the old jug. You pour yourself a big glass and take small swallows.

A soft wind caresses the outer skeleton of the house. The shadows of leaves dance over the walls, again, a familiar sight that drags you back and makes you sick simultaneously. 

“You a’right there, sweetheart?” 

You jump at the sound of a voice deepened with sleep. Tommy is staring at you from the entrance, brows furrowed, the crease between them so much like his brother. Taking another small sip of water, you swallow and place the cold glass on the counter. 

“I’m fine,” you grit out, your voice leveled. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.” 

Before you know it, Tommy’s warm hands are on your face, cradling your cheeks. His thumbs move over your cheekbones, pressing and applying pressure over the bone. Your heart skips a beat. It takes you everything not to lean into his touch, to seek out that comfort only he could give. But you think of Joel, you think of him, and you stop yourself. If Tommy knew about you and Joel, if you were completely honest with him—an open book, you would’ve taken that comfort to yourself, not a worry in your heart but he doesn’t know and that alone makes your stomach clench with guilt. 

“You don’t look fine,” his hands slide down to your shoulders. “Was it a nightmare?” 

You blink heavily, your eyes locked on one another. Two broken people in a dark kitchen. It pains you that a nightmare is Tommy’s first guess. You wonder how many times he’d woken up to the faux scent of gunpowder and screams only to be comforted by the darkness of the ceiling. 

“Something like that. I. . sometimes forget that they’re gone,” your eyes drop to his chest. “And then I remember that no matter what, in the end, I’ll be lonely.” 

“Lonely?” he spits out the word, shocked, hurt and baffled. “What are you talkin’ about? You have Joel—You have me.” 

You know you do. You really do. But after years of going through it all alone, to see your friends have their own support systems and people to protect them, care for them, it’s hard to believe you’ve found your people. It’s hard to believe that years of solitude where you had to take care of yourself was over. Old habits die hard. Your heart shatters piece by piece. Your heart nothing but a heavy weight in your chest. You want to collapse, to scream, shout and cry. Salty tears sting the corner of your eyes. Suddenly you’re drowning in your past like it’s still your present, the thickness of it goes all the way up to your neck and you can’t breathe— 

“Hey—hey,” Tommy cups your cheeks, thumbs running down where tears would be but your skin is dry. “Come back to me, it’s a’right. I’ll always be with you, you know? Even if you move far away, I’ll always be a thorn in your ass.” 

You crack a smile and manage to nod, placing a hand over his own. You think a tear finally falls, maybe even two. You hate feeling like this. Hate it. Tommy doesn’t look convinced by your expression. 

“Do. . .do you want me to call Joel?” 

His words freeze you to the bone. Of course, he would ask that—Tommy Miller, always thoughtful, always putting others first. They both do. You even think to some extent Sarah does the same thing. All of them throwing themselves in front of a moving train in different ways. 

You don’t know if he’s noticed something. Or if he just thinks that Joel’s presence would be more soothing, since he’s used to relying on his older brother. 

Either way, you want him to know that he’s enough. 

And he’ll always be enough. 

You shake your head, “No,” he furrows his brows when you part your arms. “But I wouldn’t say no to a hug.” 

Strong arms sneak under your armpits and broad palms press against your back. Tommy pulls you incredibly close. Holds you indescribably tight. His scent fills your lungs. A bit of sweat mixed with a day-old deodorant. He smells nice. He always had. His skin is warm against your cheek and you smile widely this time but he doesn’t see. 

“Thank you, Tommy,” you whisper into the darkness. “I would be lost without you.” 

“Are you sure you’re a’right?” 

“Yes, Joel.” 

“Hundred percent sure?” 

“Yes, sir,” you declare, your gaze fixed on Joel as you peer from the side of the canvas for a better look. “Now stand still.” 

Joel grumbles something inaudible and straightens his neck, attempting to keep his limbs as still as possible. Your eyes rove across his broad shoulders, the expanse of his chest, you take in the shadows that appear between every sinewy muscle and think about how to convey it into your painting. You still haven’t dared to look further down. Looking down means that you’ll definitely be distracted. 

You sketch a couple of lines that vaguely resemble his shape. You’ve missed painting nudes and when you mentioned it to Joel, he was eager to accept without actually realizing he had to stay still for a generous amount of time. 

“You should’ve called,” he grumbles. “I would’ve come straight over.” 

“I know,” you sigh. “But it was late, and Tommy was there.” 

He doesn’t say anything but you can sense his displease. 

“He’s my friend, Joel,” you answer, observing the thick contour of his neck. “And your brother.” 

“I know that. I just don’t like the idea of not being there for you.” 

“Tell him then,” you say a bit harshly. He doesn’t seem affected by your shift in tone. Another line joins the others. “If it was anything serious I would’ve called, hell, I would’ve come to you but it wasn’t that serious. I was just in a. . . mood.” 

“Tommy sure don’t think so.” 

You don’t say anything and focus on drawing the rest of his torso, he clicks his tongue in frustration, “I hate when you do this, you know.” 

You raise your eyebrows, “Do what?” 

“Downgrade your problems. It’s okay if you’re still grievin’. It’s okay if there are some things you’re still workin’ out. I just don’t want you to think you’re alone, I can be your rock, sweetheart. I’d be happy to.” 

“You are my rock, Joel—and keep still.” He huffs and straightens again, your lips twitching into a smile. “I’ll try to open up more. Promise. I do feel really lucky I have you. And Sarah—and Tommy. Some nights I just wake up feeling bad. Yesterday was just a bit more intense.” Joel grunts in approval and you add. “Also hasn’t Tommy heard of the phrase ‘snitches get stitches’?” 

“He wasn’t snitchin’,” he pouts, you want to take his bottom lip between your fingers and kiss him. “I actually asked how he was doin’ but he quickly brushed it off and told me about you instead.” 

“Of course, he did.” 

He nods but still seems wound up like a toy. His head drops a bit, the click of your tongue reminding him to keep still. 

Your eyes trace the contours of Joel’s body. He’s an excellent specimen, everything about him so human, so raw. Every freckle, every crinkle you want to eternalize onto your canvas. He’s not looking at you anymore. Eyes glued to the legs of the easel. You still haven’t fully taken in the sight of him. Sometimes you’re truly afraid of how strongly you feel for him, how much you’d be willing to lay down just to be with him. 

Honestly, a pocket of time would be ideal. That way you could spend eternity in this peaceful moment, living in bliss. 

You place the pencil down and walk up to him. His gaze is drawn to your once more, “Sorry, sweet tea, did I move again?” 

“Maybe a bit,” you lie, standing an inch away from his naked body. You press your thumbs against his cheekbones then slide them down, feeling the roughness of hair tickling your skin. His eyes flutter shut momentarily, before opening again. 

You don’t say a word. Time is still around you and you believe if you try hard enough this can be your forever. You trace the outer lines of his lips, then trace the seam. His lips part, a bit of tongue showing in between—you touch that too, shallowly dipping one finger before moving on to his neck, “To draw is to feel,” you muster, the ball of your thumb grazing firmly over his Adam’s apple. “Will you let me feel you?” 

“‘Course,” he chokes out. “Whatever you need.” 

His words make your chest swell with affection. Joel’s words make you feel brave enough to allow your gaze to venture down. You press the flat of your palms over the swell of his stomach, something trembles within—life, you think, he’s so full of it. Your one hand dares to go lower, playing with the dark curls that lead to his soft cock. 

However, he doesn’t remain soft for long, it twitches and grows, the head gaining a reddish hue. 

Joel tilts his head, gradually leaning in to claim your lips with his own. He stops when your fingers bite into his bare hips, lodging into that delicate spot between bone and muscle, he swallows thickly, cock raising with attention. 

“Stay still,” you whisper. “And maybe I’ll reward you.” 

“Oh, we’re playing that game now?” he says with a crooked smile that makes your stomach twist delightfully. You only smile as your hand slides lower and lower, until you cup his semi-hard cock. His breath hitches. 

I love you like this, you want to say but remain silent. You stroke him slowly until he’s fully hard, the warm muscle throbbing in your palm, you press your lips against his neck, sucking on his skin until his hips jerk. 

“I’m not playing any games,” you mouth into his skin. “If you let me paint you, I’ll let you fuck my mouth. Does that sound like a fair deal?” 

Joel thrusts into your hand once more, groaning as you lick the vein that throbs under his skin, “I won’t lie, sweetheart, that might be hard if you keep your hand where it is.” He exhales a shaky breath, the warmth of it fanning your skin. “But sounds fair enough, I’ll try.” 

You press a quick kiss to the small patch within his beard and pull away before he can follow the heat of your lips. He’s as still as a statue when you get behind the canvas, but instead of resuming sketching the rough outline of his body, you grab two tubes of paint and a brush; though you have your doubts you’ll be using the tool, you’d much prefer to feel the heat of his skin softening the paint between your fingers. 

When you come back to him, confusion crosses his face. 

“I thought you were gonna be paintin’?” 

Your lips twitch into a sinister smile, “I am.” 

As cliche as it might sound, Joel has always reminded you of a deep, rich shade of red—the color of blood—but he also reminds you of an earthy purple, the type of shade that makes you want to bury your fingers in it as if you might actually feel the earth itself.  

You shake two tubes of paint in front of his eyes. He’s still confused, yet remains still. You pop the red paint open first, squeezing a generous amount over his shoulder. You watch it trickle down, drops of crimson staining his torso, the color so deep that it looks too real. Your heart jumping, you quickly smear it down his chest and all the way to his stomach. Just like you predicted, the brush is forgotten, slipping from your fingers and onto the carpeted floor. Joel shudders, his breath caught in his throat, you see him clench his jaw. 

“Darlin’. . .” he rasps, voice full of gravel, and your hand stops where it follows the V of his lower abdomen.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” he answers quickly, breathily. “Don’t ever stop touching me. Don’t ever stop looking at me like that—like I’m the most valuable thing you have. Like I’m worth a damn.” 

“You are.” 

Slowly, your fingertip traces an invisible path upward, leaving a trail of red paint in its wake. Joel shudders and gulps loudly. You draw meaningless shapes, circle where his tattoo is, and draw shapes of ancient alphabets you vaguely remember from when you read a book about the Late Bronze Age. Joel shudders, twitches, and tenses under your touch but never actually moves, keeping his stance. 

After the red pigment is nothing more but a fading shade of pink, you pour some purple paint into your palm and apply it directly. You press your hand directly above his heart, leaving your handprint over it before moving to his back, “Fuck,” he groans. 

Looking down, you notice him clenching his buttocks and slightly swaying forward, you smile, his cock must be dripping. You can’t wait to take him in your mouth, for him to use you however he pleases. You need him to be desperate when he takes you, sliding his length down your throat as he berates you for taunting him with sinful touches in the guise of making art. 

You press your hands together and smear the remnants of red with the purple, the fresh paint overwhelming the other. When both hands are fully coated, your cup both his ass cheeks, sliding your hands up, you kiss the taut skin between his shoulder blades. You leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses all the way to his neck and lick the sensitive spot behind his earlobe. 

“I’d wrap my hand around your cock but I’m afraid the paint isn’t edible so you wouldn’t be able to fuck my mouth,” you tease. “Tell me what you want to do to me, Joel?” 

He groans, “Keep this up and you’ll find out, sweetheart. I’m not a patient man, you should know.” 

“But isn’t the wait fun?” you challenge, your hands sliding up to his front, right above his pelvis. “The taste of sex on your tongue, the way your cock throbs with the thought of my warm cunt tight around it? Don’t you feel that tingle. . .” you gradually lower yourself, dragging your tongue down his spine, a choked out sound rips from his throat, “going down your spine, reminding you of how good it’s finally going to feel when you push down my throat, cutting my airflow and taking me however you want?” 

Joel breathes heavily, his stomach clenching with every whispered word, “Darlin’, please.” 

“Turn around.” 

You look up as he does, you gently take his hand and place it on your cheek, your heart dissolving into something thick and sweet like honey when his thumb strokes your skin. His gaze grows soft, the arousal in them dimming, splitting away like waves to show the emotion. 

“Your knees are gonna hurt,” he says, voice dropping. 

He’s right, they are going to hurt. “I don’t care.” 

You lower both hands to your lap, obediently parting your lips, sticking your tongue out. Joel wraps a hand around his cock and jerks himself until he’s fully hard, he holds you by the hair and drags you closer. 

“You want me to fuck that pretty mouth?” 

“Please,” you repeat his own plea from earlier. 

The heft of his cock on your tongue almost feels like a blessing from above. Your eyes flutter shut. Joel slides himself torturously slow, inch by inch, as he fills your mouth, your lips stretching wide to accommodate his width. He moves down your throat, awakening your gag reflex, you hold it down, choking around his cock. 

“Fuuuuuck, that feels good,” he groans, throwing his head back. With shallow thrusts, he works your throat open. Your one hand slides between your thighs as the other braces against Joel’s thick thigh. Right now, you’re relieved you’re wearing your favorite flannel pajama shorts instead of something uncomfortable like jeans. “That’s it, touch yourself, sweetheart. I want you to come while I’m fuckin’ your throat.” You whine filthily at his words, pressing your fingers between your clothed folds, you stroke your aching clit. Joel doesn’t stop running his mouth. “You must be soaked down there, poor thing.” 

Tears sting the corner of your eyes and you manage to slip your fingers down your shorts. His thrusts become rougher, sliding all the way out before fucking himself even deeper into your mouth, down your throat. You swallow helplessly around him and the groan that slips from between his lips forces the clench of your cunt, you breathe heavily through your nose and draw vicious circles around your clit. 

“Look at you—you like me fuckin’ your mouth, honey?” You nod, his lips curling in the most devastating way. “You gonna come while rubbing that pretty pussy of yours?” 

You nod again, this time accompanied by a moan. The reverberations of the sound trembles against his sensitive cock and he rocks into your mouth harder—this time tears do slip past your fluttering lashes. You can’t breathe, your vision is blurry, yet this is everything you’ve ever wanted. Your heart feels so full, so content. He fucks every thought out of your head, overwhelming your senses.  

“Shit, shit, shit—Don’t look like that, sweetheart, don’t cry, if you do I—I’ll—” Spit trickles down the corner of your lips, everything a wet, sopping mess. With every thrust, he manages to go down your throat, his mouth constantly muttering words you can barely hear. More tears flow freely down your cheeks, mixing with the saliva and precome going down your neck. His hips move in a constant stammering motion, balls heavy on your chin as he snaps shallowly into your throat without pulling back. 

You look up to him. Your eyes shining and glimmering, Joel meets your gaze, his eyes going wide, hips stilling—

He spills down your throat, hard. 

You swallow, swallow, and swallow, gulping everything that he gives. But it’s still not enough, there’s too much, some of it spilling from the sides from where his cock stretches your lips. Your body jerks, your fingers move slowly around your clit and you press harder, your feel the warm slick dripping down your fingers, making a mess of the rug underneath. 

“Sorry, sorry—” Joel mutters over and over again almost like a chant. His voice hoarse as his chest raises with quick shallow breaths. He then lets out a deep exhale, his cock throbbing in your mouth as he pulls out. “I wanted to last longer.” 

You kiss the tip of his spent cock, “Come here,” you mumble and he quickly drops down, you take his hand, pulling it between your legs. His eyes snap to yours, pupils eating away the color as he presses two fingers into your soaked cunt. Your eyes roll and your hips immediately grind down. “I came too. I came from you fucking my mouth, Joel. That’s how good it felt. You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Fuck, you’re really makin’ it hard to stay soft darlin’.” You smile as you cup his flaccid cock, feeling the weight of it in your palm, he hisses. “You’re gonna pay for teasin’ me, neighbor. ‘Should take you on my fuckin’ knee as punishment.” 

A fresh gush of wetness spreads around his fingers, “I think I would like that,” you say, kissing his neck. “But now I think I should actually finish sketching you for my painting.” 

“I don’t think I have much strength left in my legs,” he says with a chuckle. 

“Who said anything about standing?” you stand up, taking him with you. “I’m going to paint something else and for that, I want you on the bed.” 

You hadn't realized how much paint you managed to cover yourself in when you were pouring purple and red down Joel's shoulders.

He actually managed quite well when you asked him to lay on the bed instead of standing, and you’re fairly certain he dozed off for a moment or two. You didn’t mind. You loved how the painting had ended up, a sensual silhouette of a working man sleeping with sun cascading down his skin. 

“Surprise surprise, pourin’ paint on me got you dirty too,” Joel coos playfully, following you into the dimly lit bathroom. He stuffs your bedsheets into the washing machine, your eyes catch the smear of red and purple paint. “Want us to take a shower beautiful? We still have time until Sarah comes back from school.” 

“Someone’s cheerful now that they’ve taken their nap.” Joel holds you by the waist and pulls you close, unlike him, you’re still fully clothed—dirty, but clothed. His cock presses against the swell of your stomach. 

“I’m mighty tired of bein’ the only one bearin’ my naked ass,” he tugs off your shirt, the motion so quick that your protest dissolves on your tongue before it can materialize. “Also you owe me a nice back scrub with all those fancy soaps you have.” 

“I thought I paid my depth when you came down my throat.” 

“I don’t recall sayin’ exactly how much you owed me for this.” 

Your lips split into a grin. Without moving away, you bend over and slip out of your shorts, throwing them towards the washing machine. The flickering lustful specks in his eyes make your heart jump, they look like gold. Despite coming down your throat about forty minutes ago, he still wants you. He’s not tired of spending time with you, talking to you, humoring you in your endeavors— he’s not even mildly annoyed, which is something you thought everyone would feel eventually if they spent enough time with you. It was only a matter of when. 

You suddenly slap your palms softly against his cheeks, cradling his scruffy cheeks. His eyes rip away from your naked body to meet your gaze. You take in a slow breath. And out. Your heart rams painfully within your chest. Joel’s eyes widen slightly as he takes in your expression, observing you slowly as if he’s tasting what you’re feeling like aged wine. His fingers slither around your wrist and sliver down your forearms. 

“Darlin’?” 

“I love you, Joel.” 

His lips part, not with surprise, but with relief. You’re smiling giddily now, not a feeling of worry in your bones, just happiness, eagerness. You don’t care if it’s too early. Too late. It’s what you feel. And all you feel is love love love. 

“I love you too, Tea.” 

Joel brings your palm to his lips and kisses the curve of it slowly, he moves up to the middle, his mustache tickling you when he lays another kiss, “I love you so fuckin’ much.” 

You close the distance, slanting your lips together, you drink him. His lips move to the beat of the moment, tickling down tenderly and smoothly like molasses. Joel’s tongue traces the seam of your lips and you open up for him. He tastes you quickly before pulling back. He exhales deeply, his breath fanning your swollen lips. 

“Let’s get cleaned up.” 

You grin, raising an eyebrow, “So you can get me dirty again?” 

“Somethin’ like that,” he huffs. 

Joel leads you to the tub, acting as if you’re his guest and not the other way around. He turns on the shower, allows the water to run down his fingers until the temperature is just right, and then carefully helps you step in. You moan happily at the way warm water moves down your skin, softening your body and chipping away at the paint. Joel stands right behind you. You want to turn around, clean him of the colorful mess, but he doesn’t budge. His hands touch your shoulders, then skims down. 

“You first,” he murmurs, fingers washing away the paint. You lean back. His hands follow a trail to your front, kneading your breasts. 

“I don’t have any paint there,” you hum. 

“My bad, these eyes aren’t what they used to be.” 

He gives them another squeeze before going lower and lower. . .  until he’s pushing his hand between your pressed tighs. You laugh, “I definitely don’t have any paint there.” 

His teeth suddenly sink into your shoulder. The blossoming pain makes you gasp and your body reacts by bending over, rolling your hips towards him. With a soft growl, Joel grips your hips and pushes you up against the glass panel. You moan with your breasts pressing firmly against the glass, the constant shower of water making you slip. 

Joel’s lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck you with my fingers,” he rasps. “Want you to come all around them, sweetheart.” 

Your body flushes from the inside out, “What if I can’t?” 

“You don’t have a choice,” he pushes forward, notching his cock between your folds, you whimper. “If you want me to fuck you with this cock, you better show me how desperate you are for it by makin’ a mess, honey.” 

When you don’t answer he grips your neck and forces your head back, he kisses your forehead, “Are you gonna be good for me?” 

Your stomach bottoms out, “Y—Yes, I’ll be good.” 

He kisses your forehead once more before releasing you. You fall forward with a whimper, bracing your hands against the slippery panels. Joel slides two fingers inside of you with embarrassing ease, “You like it when I’m rough,” he states, thrusting the digits in and out. You nod. “I love you,” he then says, catching you but surprise. You clench around his fingers and he chuckles darkly. “God, you’re gonna make me go insane—I love you—” 

You clench again, a loud moan dropping from your lips. The sounds you make are drowned by the water, yet he can hear you crystal clear. Your body reacts viscerally to his words, a flame that won’t ever go out burning wild in your gut—between your legs. He whispered the words into your skin, into your mouth, against your tongue. You push against his fingers, urging him to go deeper. He does. He holds you by the neck while fucking you with thick fingers, you cry out his name, whimpering those three little words that make him go inside just as much as it does to you. 

“Come for me,” he grunts. “Come for me so I can fuck you for real.” 

“J–Joel, fuck—” 

Your back arches, your orgasm rips from you, he takes it. It’s violent, earth shattering. 

Your jaw drops as he squeezes your throat lightly, the pressure adding to the intensity. You can vaguely hear him muttering ‘That’s it’ over and over, but you can barely hear the rasp of his voice. 

Joel kisses your cheek, drags his lips down your neck, “How’re you feelin’?” 

“Good. . . great actually.” 

Pulling out his fingers, he pushes them between your lips, you lap at them hungrily. While you’re busy devouring your own taste, Joel buries himself deep in your cunt. You whimper around his fingers, brows furrowing with pleasure. He pulls the digits out and grips your chin. His chest heaves as he pulls almost all the way out before snapping forward again, burying himself into the tight warmth of your pussy. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles, rocking back and forth. With every thrust, your lungs convulse. You desperately grip his forearm, but your fingers slip thanks to the water droplets that surround his skin, him letting out a sudden chuckle before pulling you towards his mouth. “Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t think I’m gonna last long now either. You make me feel like a teenager again.” 

Throwing your arm back, you tug the damp locks and force your lips together. You lick hungrily into his mouth. Joel moans loudly and you swallow every little sound he makes, your cunt fluttering and clamping around his length. He pounds into you sloppily, no coordination, no calculation—just need. 

To be wanted. To be devoured. What a wonderful feeling it was.  

Joel pulls out with a grunt, you hear the slick sounds of his fist as he jerks himself over the curve of your spine. You shudder when you feel it. Warm spend trickling down your skin, mixing with the water. He spreads your ass cheeks and pushes them together with his cock between them, he grinds once—twice, before heaving and dropping his head between your shoulder blades. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, but you hear no regret behind the apology. It makes you glad. 

“Don’t be,” you turn and pick up the shower head, holding it right over his shoulders, you wipe the remaining paint away. Your stomach growls in protest, your lips twitch into a crooked smile. “God, all that worked an appetite. I’m starving.” 

“Want me to cook you somethin’?” 

Spraying the water over his other shoulder, you meet his gaze. He’s so sweet like this. His hair wet, curling at the ends. His body finally relaxed. You can’t help yourself and quickly press your lips into the corner of his jaw. 

“I have a watermelon in the fridge, you can cut that up for me.” 

“‘Course, darlin’. Anythin’ for you.” 

Crickets chirp loudly. The wind pleasant, yet a bit too warm for your liking. You fan yourself with a hand as you lean back into the chair. Despite just taking a shower, you’re nearly dry. Summer is definitely not a good season for you. 

“Should I be offended you look so miserable right now?” Joel asks, sitting next to you. He bites into one of the watermelon slices and when a drop of sweet nectar escapes, he makes quick work of licking himself clean. You swallow, your insides pulsing. 

“No,” you sigh. “I just don’t like the heat very much.” 

“Well. . that might be a problem considering summer is basically here.” 

You groan and throw your head back, “Don’t remind me.” 

“Here,” he says, extending you a slice. “Eat.” 

You take the slice without objection, biting into the fleshy fruit. The cold juice of the watermelon feels good as it goes down your throat. You look over to the lawn, thanks to the heat most things have dried out. 

“I helped him a lot you know,” Joel says, his voice soft, as if afraid to spook you. “With the garden that is. He talked a lot about you.” 

“Did he now?” you muse, you chew the watermelon thoughtfully. Your eyes are glued to one of the butterflies in search of a flower. “I miss him.” 

“I know you do, sweetheart. I know. I wish I could ease your paint, but truthfully I have no idea how to do that.” 

“You do enough,” smiling, you turn to him and find that he’s already looking at you. “The silver lining is that I met you.” 

He parts his lips, eyes glossed over with emotion but before he can, both of you hear small steps approaching at the same time. 

“Oh, watermelon,” Sarah chirps, throwing her backpack to the floor. “Don’t mind if I do.” 

She takes a slice and sits down, eyes flitting between you and Joel. You try not to look at Joel then, your heart beating a bit too loudly for your liking. Sarah raises an eyebrow and locks her eyes with Joel, their expressions are similar when they’re about to wreak havoc. 

“What?” Joel snaps, angrily sinking his teeth into his watermelon, finishing it off. Both you and Sarah laugh, your heart feeling a bit lighter now. 

“Oh, nothin’,” Sarah rolls her tongue, mimicking her dad. “What have you two been up to?” 

“Your dad was helping me with the kitchen sink,” you answer quickly. “It’s been leaking all morning.” 

“If my dad is good at anything, it’s fixing stuff.” 

“I’m good at a lot of things,” Joel grumbles. 

“How was school?” you ask. 

Sarah’s shoulders fall a bit, but she quickly shakes it off and smiles, “It was good, nothing interesting happened.” 

You raise an eyebrow but don’t pry. Joel doesn’t seem to notice Sarah’s mood change. “We should better head off,” he says.

“But I’m still eating,” Sarah whines. “Can’t we stay a bit longer?” 

“We don’t wanna overstay our welcome.” 

You almost laugh at such an absurd thing. Him, overstaying his welcome? Never. But you also understand why he does it. Sarah is smart and by the looks she was giving you and him, she’s probably already suspicious. 

“You guys should take half of it,” you say, standing up. “I’m only one person anyway. If I eat this much watermelon I’ll end up growing one inside of me.” 

Both of them look at you deadpanned, you laugh, “You both have no humor!” 

Sarah turns to Joel, “Dad, I think you might wanna check if her water is laced with something.” 

“I think you’re right, baby girl,” Joel nods seriously. “There’s no other reason she would find that funny.” 

“If you guys keep that up I’m not giving you squat.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am,” they say at the same time. 

You shake your head, snorting at the father and daughter duo. Both of them were ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. 

However, you can’t seem to stop smiling as you head inside to get them a container to put the slices into. 

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

this goodness hurts (and I'm drowning in it)

carry me slowly, my sunlight (these colours, they fade for you only) - series masterlist here

pairing: damian wayne x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.2k

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings: damian is trying so hard to be an emotionally functional adult. he's not doing perfectly. reader definitely isn't, either. there might be too much world building in this oops

a/n: what if damian wayne was an adult and was trying so so hard to heal, huh. what about that.

"Beloved?" Damian's voice is quiet and tired, but it cuts through the silence of your shared apartment all the same. Your gaze snaps up to him from your spot on the couch, your back straight and your shoulders back as if you're a guest in someone else's house.

"Hey… what are you doing awake?" you say gently.

"Looking for you," he says matter-of-factly as he kneels on the floor in front of you, switching a small lamp on and bathing the two of you in a soft glow. He uses the light to look you up and down, eyes scanning for any sort of issue or ailment. "You weren't in bed… what's wrong, my love?"

"Nothing, I just…" you sigh, shoulders slumping and hands clenching. Damian takes your hands in his gently, rubbing soothing circles on the backs of them with his thumbs as he waits for you to continue. "Sometimes it's just… hard." you finish weakly.

"What is, beloved?" he presses ever so gently.

"Just… this. All the good we have now. Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in it." Damian makes a noise of understanding at your words and slides himself onto the couch next to you, wrapping his arms around you and breathing a slight sigh of relief when you relax into him.

"Why don't I bring you back to bed, hm? We can talk about this more, or I can help you back to sleep and we can discuss this later. Whatever will help you right now, my love." He says quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

You sigh and lean forward to press your head into your hands, conscious of Damian's soothing hand rubbing up and down on your back.

"Do you ever feel this?" You mumble, not sure if he can even hear you.

"Yes," comes his immediate response, though. "I feel this, too. You…" Damian stops there, his voice faltering in that way that means he's stepped into unknown emotional territory and he's only realizing now that his feet are firmly planted there. You lift your head to look at him suspiciously and he smooths your hair back with gentle touches - a loving diversion that you're familiar with.

"Damian," you say softly. "Tell me." There's an importance there that's making your words heavy - your relationship with Damian, built on so many years of hatred and bloodshed, relies now on this openness that you're asking for. It's your loyalty to this that keeps the two of you together, that helped you move past the sworn enemies that you once were and towards this - something better, something softer. Home, Damian often calls it - this love that you two share.

He thinks of this now as he stares at you, weighing his words heavily in his mind. He's still so unsure, in many of the ways he knows you are, as well. 

"I… do feel like this," he says carefully, pulling his hands into his lap so that they can grasp onto each other tightly - a stoney alternative to fidgeting. "I feel this with Father and the others. It seems to come very easily to them, living normal lives and loving and looking out for one another normally. Over the years that I've spent here, that feeling has grown smaller and less significant, but I'd be lying if I said I never feel it at all anymore."

"But they're not the only ones who make you feel that way," you say quietly, a sombre ache in your voice. Damian inwardly curses how well you know him and feels his heart drop as you look up at him with furrowed brows and pained eyes. "Am I still hurting you, Dames?"

"No," he rushes to say, his hands moving to cup your face so fast you huff out a breath of surprise. "No, my love, you don't… that's not what I mean. I do feel this way with you, sometimes, but to no fault of yours. You're… good. You are the goodness I feel I don't deserve, beloved." Damian thinks he should at least be grateful that his words have swept the pained look off your face, but your current expression leaves him shifting in his seat, instead, your brows shooting up and your mouth open in disbelief. 

"Oh…" you say slowly. "Oh. I hadn't… I'd never thought of it like that."

"Sometimes I think of what it would have been like without you," Damian continues, leaving your mind to spin at his words. "If the prophecy hadn't existed… if you hadn't existed. I don't think I would've gotten here. I don't think I would've gotten this goodness." The last part of his confession is quiet, his eyes trained on the floor as you stare at him. His feet shift over the rug there and he thinks back to when the two of you bought it, a mark of the domesticity that neither of you realized you'd craved so much with each other until you'd gotten it.

"I think you would have," you say softly. "There's goodness in you, Damian. There always has been. Even back then… you had good in you." You reach your hand over to his, prompting him to loosen the white-knuckled grip he has on his pajama pants and intertwine his fingers tightly with yours, instead.

"If my goodness is inherent then yours is, too, you know."

"I don't know about that," you huff at Damian's declaration.

"I do," he says firmly, his eyes boring into yours, mouth downturned in a show of stubbornness that you know well. You sigh, squeezing his hand in yours and leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead in a show of surrender, a we can argue about this tomorrow whispered against his skin. The furrow disappears from his brow at the action and he pulls you against him once more, wrapping his arms around you.

"Maybe we should go back to bed," you murmur, your face tucked against his neck. He hums in agreement and drops his own kiss to the crow of your head, letting you settle against him for a moment before he gently nudges you to your feet, keeping one hand tightly in yours as he leads you both back to your bedroom. Your eyes flicker over the interior of your shared home as you go, over the photos and artworks and all the things that make it home. By the time you get back to your bedroom and Damian is delicately getting you under the covers, tucking blankets around you and fluffing pillows, you're looking at him with a lovesick expression that makes him freeze.

"Beloved?" He says tentatively.

"I love you," you respond firmly. A smile stretches across Damian's face, a giddy boyishness flashing across his features that makes you soften. It's not a sight anyone is faced with very often, even you. 

"I love you, too." His gentle words are muffled by him pressing his lips to yours, hands cupping your face the thumbs smoothing across your cheeks. "Inevitably."

"Inevitably," you repeat back, smiling against his lips. His reminder of how the two of you twisted a hateful rivalry into love and home and safety makes your heart thump against your ribcage, breath hitching as your eyes mist over. Damian smiles gently - knowingly, and you can't help but notice the rapid blinking of his own eyes, as well.

As he slips into bed beside you, turning to hold you in his arms, you consider the fact that maybe the two of you always were meant to end up like this. Maybe goodness really is inevitable. 

[uzis-dopeaf-hat]

Analysis of Nuzi in Episode 7

[MAJOR MURDER DRONES SPOILERS]

Okay! I've been wanting to rant about these two for ages so I'm happy to get this out haha. I'll try to make this post a little more comprehensible than the last one (no promises).

I'll try to keep this in chronological order.

-

So before I move ahead, let me get this out of the way.

N still cares about V, but I don't think he's thought about her in a romantic sense since at most, the end of episode 3. He absolutely sees her as family and deeply cares for her. Hence why he immediately starts freaking out and attacking the rubble blocking the elevator shaft.

He is desperately trying to get his family back.

So desperately that he unintentionally hurts someone else he immensely cares for.

He forgets about Uzi's condition in his blind panic, but upon remembering he becomes almost ridden with guilt. Uzi likely already feels terrible because of the loss of V and not being able to do anything to help N since she physically is unable to at this moment. It seems N understands this and tries to remedy this by telling Uzi "It's okay," and apologizing profusely.

He doesn't want Uzi to put anything else on her shoulders and backtracks so fast here.

And when Uzi tells N she's sorry, for both N's loss of V and her own inability to help N get back up the elevator shaft, she sounds so upset for N. There's nothing she can do for him here, and she knows this.

It's almost amusing how N gives "Tessa" a death glare here. As the series has gone on N has become less and less of a pushover, no doubt because of Uzi. If N had run into Tessa in any episode from 1-3. it would have been easier for Cyn to manipulate him.

But because she waited so long, N has built such a genuinely healthy and stable relationship with Uzi. One where both parties mutually care about each other and treat each other like equals (which should be normal but of course, this isn't the case for N or Uzi).

But something else to be noted here is the regression of both Uzi and N's characters at this moment.

Because while N is definitely making progress on standing his ground, and letting his own opinions be known, he is still faced with a non-choice. Instead of immediately deciding to question his old friend, he tries to compromise.

It's an old behavior met with an old friend vs a new behavior met with a new friend. He is trying to still somewhat appease "Tessa" while making it known that he isn't willing to hurt Uzi. But he never discusses this with Tessa herself aside from this moment, where he does so with Uzi present and out of the loop.

Let's take a look at Uzi's reaction when N tells her they won't hurt her.

She is scared.

Her eyes dart back and forth between the duo in front of her, putting her hand up in defense to try and subconsciously protect herself.

She doesn't understand what is happening, but she isn't stupid. She knows this means something happened- something regarding her, that's been decided on without her knowledge or input.

And with how much we like to joke about how dopey N is, he does seem very emotionally intelligent at times, especially here. He realizes his mistake immediately, his placating expression of trying to reassure Uzi drawing back as he drags his hand back, startled at her negative reaction.

After the solver accidentally activates from Uzi (unsure if Cyn activated it on purpose or if Uzi herself activated it by accident because of her distress- I can see both being factors), N tries to reach out to her. To bring her back to his side, to him.

He holds his palm upwards to her, physically trying to tell her 'I am here, with you, let me help.' And as he steps towards her, she moves away from him.

Uzi's trust in him has been damaged. She is scared and instead of letting N help her, or allowing him to try and explain what's happening, she hunches over and guards herself from him. She isolates herself, their relationship crumbling like the cave around them.

And N? Once Uzi is out of his view? His hand switches from welcoming to pleading. As in, he reaches out to her, trying to get her back even if he doesn't actually do anything to make it so. He is reeling from what he's done to make her feel like she can no longer trust him, to come to him for his aid. His demeanor is now 'Please wait, come back, don't leave me, I am sorry.'

Maybe not exactly those words, but it's obvious that he doesn't want her to leave. So much so that he forgets to even protect himself (or even "Tessa") from the debris falling around them.

When N wakes up, he immediately tries to free himself and desperately calls for Uzi.

And yes, Uzi is his first thought. He doesn't know where she is, or if she's okay, but his first instinct is to find her, because 'is she okay? Where is she, where are you?' is definitely what N is thinking when trying to find her, even though he can't move.

N is distressed, and after not being able to attract Uzi back to him via shouting, he gets ready to saw off his own arm.

He isn't just saying "I deserve this," because he chopped off Uzi's arm in the last episode, although that is part of it. He's saying he deserves this because he drove Uzi off, didn't confide in her, let her know what was happening, and scared her off in the process.

He is also sawing at the arm that he had held Uzi's hand with -- once again, the same hand that he sliced off to try and stop the solver. Interesting parallel there (at least it's another thing they have in common...?). His hand is absolutely crushed. That's not an accident, the team deliberately shows this -- and this is the result of N's actions (or lack thereof).

...sucks that both hands that had held each other are now destroyed (that's not me trying to be philosophical, just me being sad).

Cut here, and N is immediately ready to tell Uzi what he's learned, sprinting to find her. Probably due to the fact that he's discovered that his crush's mother is still alive but...

When told not to inform Uzi of Nori's existence by the woman herself, N upright denies her request; he's learned from his previous mistake and that lying (via omission) is not something he's going to do, especially not with Uzi.

And while certain information may hurt Uzi, he never wants what happened with Uzi to happen again. He doesn't want her to be afraid of him, or unsure of his intentions because N just wants to help and support her in any and every way he can.

He only relents that he won't tell Uzi, as long as Nori does. This is a bit different from the situation with "Tessa" since A) Nori is Uzi's mother, she really should be the one telling Uzi about her maternal status, and B) He is expecting her to actually inform Uzi of this. Not a "maybe, if needed," situation, a "you can wait until you're ready, but you will tell her," situation.

Back with "Tessa," N finally confronts her, giving her one chance and one chance only.

And Tessa, not used to this new version of N, does not heed his warning, and is promptly dealt with.

N is pissed... and it makes sense as to why. "Tessa" is attempting to force N to kill his best friend, the first one to really talk to him after who knows how long of being stuck with V ignoring him and J berating him.

Uzi has her own bite, but it's never in a way meant to harm or insult N. That's just how she is, and she and N have an excellent bond as the series moves forward.

Tessa is jeopardizing this, mocking him, and calling him "cute," and even tries to monologue to him. But N doesn't let her, because she's already made him hurt Uzi enough and he's at his last leg here. He's done.

And he's still shaken from killing Tessa.

He went full disassembly mode, maybe to make it easier, to kill her.

He is actively struggling, breathing heavily, and having to use the blade he beheaded Tessa with to hold himself up.

Despite this, when "Uzi" grabs at the patch, he snaps out of his stupor to address her. Trying to cope with what just happened. He calls her "buddy," which he really only calls her once in episode three when referring to both of them as "dapper buddies."

Just something interesting to point out, since Cyn took control of Uzi immediately after N "got rid of her body "killed" her. He's called Cyn "buddy," before (although, he called the birds trying to kill him buddies as well, so not sure how that pans out).

When he says it here it almost feels like a coping mechanism. Trying to take care of his loved ones in any way he can. Also, note how he still has an 'x' as an optic. Likely due to the stress he's been put through.

Once he somewhat collects himself, he attempts to tell Uzi that all he needs is her, and for them to stay together.

Their short time away from each other did not favor them. N admits to both himself and Uzi that he doesn't like being away from her and that he needs her to be by his side.

And Uzi definitely could've used him when she found the recording of her mother.

It's a bit harder to analyze Uzi's moments since a lot of it is just herself dealing with her own issues. This is still important, but not a lot of it deals with N, aside from the fact that, yes, N being here would've been preferable (unless I missed some stuff in the middle of this episode).

Cyn reveals herself, having taken control of Uzi, and we really see how sinister she can be.

Make no mistake, that is indeed a heart around Uzi, formed with Cyn's... claw... like appendages.

This is also deliberately put here by the team because they do not want us to doubt N's feelings for Uzi (it gets a lot more heavy-handed, too).

But the most important part here is N's reaction to seeing Uzi. When Cyn turns and shows Uzi's face, N visibly falters, expression growing more upset. He doesn't shoot her. Cyn notices this and smiles because she now sees the advantage she has over N.

And boy, does she take advantage.

This is probably my favorite part of this entire combat scene. N tries to essentially threaten Cyn here from further hurting Nori, trying to get her to back off.

Except, Cyn sees this as an opportunity to toy with him.

Maybe I'll one day do an analysis on Cyn, but she takes active pleasure in seeing N's suffering. When he holds his blade to her neck, he actually takes a moment to look at Cyn in the face, waiting for her next move.

And Cyn grabs that blade and slowly starts jabbing it into Uzi's neck. Because this is who N is now seeing: he is seeing Cyn hurt Uzi and he doesn't know what to do.

You see him visibly gasp, as he notices what Cyn's doing, and is still unable to make himself move (unless, of course, N is now actively trying to get the blade away from Uzi, but it doesn't seem like that's what's happening here).

Scratch that, while it's not immediately obvious, there are minuscule movements of the blade after Cyn starts stabbing Uzi - like N is trying to get it away from Uzi's neck while keeping eye contact with Cyn. He may still be seeing Uzi instead of Cyn at this moment (likely struggling between the two).

Something else to point out is that N is shaking even before Cyn grabs the blade. If you look at the tip of the weapon it's easier to tell. Again, chalking it up to not wanting to actually hurt Uzi.

This is a very nice parallel back to episode three. Aside from the hand-chopping part. Lots of limbs have been lost recently.

Ignoring the fact N was just raining fire down on Uzi, which is one of two times (don't quote me on that) he gets properly lethal, he tries hard here to not hurt her- almost like he's trying to get Uzi back in control.

It's hard to see here, but N is actually smiling as he holds Uzi's hand. Probably similar to what he does later - he is trying to remind Uzi of herself. Aside from the eyes, it feels like Uzi is reacting to this, looking surprised, before Nori takes her hand off to stop Cyn from creating more pockets of voids and closing the current ones.

But Cyn isn't done yet.

Once again, she uses N's affections against him to save herself. But in doing so, she allows N to finally crack through to Uzi, even if not by much.

It's comical that this is what helps Uzi gain control again, although what else would we expect? Even so, probably another favorite moment of mine.

Again, if anyone was doubting Nuzi... the team cannot get more obvious than this. Until we get an outright verbal confession... which is yet to be seen, sadly enough.

Unsure if N knew this would help Uzi or if he just wanted to let Nori know about him and Uzi before she died. This may just be him being lovesick for his possessed girlfriend.

Jokes aside, a lot of people took this as N saying they've been dating since episode five. I don't... think that's necessarily the case. I keep seeing the phrase "she fell first, but he fell harder," when discussing Nuzi and honestly? Yeah, he did. But dating since before episode six? That doesn't make sense, since we've been following their relationship since episode one, and it's not like it's irrelevant to the story. It's actually a huge part of Murder Drones, romantic or not, so any developments like the two dating would make more sense to happen in front of the audience and actually be addressed.

I think this is more of him sort of declaring his love for Uzi, in the most N way he can.

Ahh... although the dating part may be a bit irrelevant due to their predicament. They are both somewhat aware of how the other feels but have yet to discuss anything as Uzi states later. Likely due to uh, certain events happening around them.

When N sees Uzi come to, he starts laughing because of how relieved he is. And then promptly screams in horror at Uzi's next actions (I'm sure Nori is fine).

A small thing, but I thought it was an interesting reaction to have after having fought the previously possessed girl.

I think the fact that the two defaulted to freaking out after seeing each other is really sweet, funnily enough.

The way the two immediately start bantering, almost frantically, makes it feel like the two are looking for some sort of familiarity after all that's been happening. Moving instinctively closer to each other. Yes, maybe so they don't have to shout; but more importantly, after everything they've gone through, they want to be near each other.

And when they meet in the middle? They embrace each other, Uzi tightening her own hold and weeping into N's arm. N himself petting and caressing Uzi's head, both to comfort her and reassure himself that she is finally here with him.

...unfortunately, that is not the end of this post, nor the episode (as you've probably guessed).

After Cyn interrupts and attacks the duo, she descends into her pit of hell where she plans on dragging them.

You can see Uzi desperately trying to reach N, trying to get him to respond. That is her only goal in this moment, making sure that he is okay and alive.

I feel as if I am repeating myself... but yes, that heart is also purposeful. It's interesting how the tentacles split after forming, proceeding to drag N and Uzi apart with Uzi grasping at the ground trying to get back to N.

It literally tears them away from each other, and you can see how Uzi is forced to let go only to try and grab ahold of N.

She manages just in time to grab him, while impaling her hand onto some bones sticking up from the fleshy pit to stop both herself and N from falling further.

And we know this isn't a painless process, as drones have been shown to actively show pain. She doesn't care, she is doing all she can to save N, even if it hurts her. You can see how her arm starts ripping apart from her own hand as tentacles begin pulling harder.

But when Uzi sees N wake up, she gives him a smile, with a small, shakey, "Hey."

She knows they're likely about to die. And while N may have clones, Uzi does not. And even so, there's no way Cyn would allow N to remember anything that's happened, Uzi's firewall likely only protecting this N.

And as her final words she begins to thank him. For being her first friend. The first to believe in her. The first to show concern to her. The first to stay with her despite everything.

But when she sees that key?

She finishes thanking her first love and throws him away from their shared doom.

Uzi is genuinely so glad she's met N, and it shows in her expression here. She is saving the one good thing that has happened to her since her mom left her.

She knows N isn't going to be okay with this, that this won't be easy for him, and won't be easy for her, as she's assuming her own death in saving him.

Because of this, she doesn't want N's last memory of her to be herself being scared and unsure. So she tells him to "Die Mad," and flings him out of the chapel to both prevent him from attempting to save her and witnessing her death.

And you can see N was ready to jump in, determined to get her back and to save her. He uses his blades once again as a crutch, flaring his wings out in preparation to fly towards her.

Uzi doesn't let him, and for the last time pushing him away to save him from their once-shared fate.

I think Uzi's message to N will come into play later when they inevitably confront Cyn for the last time. Whether or not Uzi is there with him, he won't be able to forgive Cyn for controlling him and hurting him along with his loved ones.

-

And... that's the post! ending on a sad note but uh... we are talking about episode seven so there's no avoiding that haaaah.

If I missed something or you want further discussion feel free to send an ask or reply/respond to this post, love talking about shit.

Take a Nuzi dancing gif to go (I'm also sad now so this is really an excuse to put this at the end of my post).

Have a good one!

[obae-me]

Yes! Finally someone said it!

At first when I saw the interaction I went- hey he's being such a jerk- Ohhhhh wait! This is literally him wanting us to stay soo fricking bad, but Mr.Pridey McPridepants just can't admit it. OFC HE WOULD TRY TO IMPRESS US (even if this emotionally constipated man can't differ b/w chivalry and being an asshole). He's trying to so bloody hard to sweet talk his way into us staying. Even if he's being forceful and manipulative; it's because he's so shit scared of giving us the choice and then us choosing to go cuz he KNOWS wherever we going must mean a lot to us especially when we are going such great lengths to return.

Not to say, that this behavior is ok or good but at the end of the day isn't obey me about flawed and morally grey characters? Even the ANGELS aren't perfect and morally sound, and if I dare say, sometimes they make decisions even crueler than the demons. We are literally talking about the AVATAR OF PRIDE HERE! XD

Literally as soon as you look past the image that he literally puts up cuz he wants ppl to see him that way, you will realize that he really is just a soggy, pathetic man who can't put aside his pride to ask us to stay like a normal person XD Also to point out a lot of ppl LIKE Levi and Mammon BECAUSE OF their pathos lol.

I have always seen that there is SUCH a double standard when it comes to him. Ppl say that he's being too fake and only cares about his image and not his brothers, but when he does show his softer side, they say he's not being genuine or he's pushy or something of the sort. What most ppl fail to see is that he loves his brothers and mc, probably even more than his own life but he's just so bad at showing it because he is held back by his own trauma and sin. While that does not make him innocent... that does make him like his brothers. He acts this way because thats literally the only way he knows how to keep things in his control and keep his family safe and ppl fall for it ... LIKE IT'S NOT THE REAL HIM! TvT

I have this theory (might be a hot take idk?) that most of the ppl playing obey me are pretty young, so they don't like Lucifer because they are anti-authority (I also am, its not a bad thing) but this man is anything but Authority and Power. I might be a lucifer apologist lol but all I am saying is for ppl to look at him with the same open-minded lens they see the other brothers with and you might find him a lot more bearable and dare I say... likeable?

Phew, sorry for rambling in your inbox but I have some strong feelings for that stupid old man XD Also, this feels a lot similar to how expectations are so high and rigid for the eldest sibling whereas these same expectations become a lot less severe for the other siblings...

Firstly, thank you for calling him a soggy pathetic man, that gave me a good chuckle.

And YES! All of this, 100% yes. He doesn't want to admit that there are other things out there more important than him. Not just because of his Pride, but because he finally let someone else behind the walls he put up around his heart (we saw this around Nightbringer lessons 11 and 12, when he was ready to be THE enemy to protect his family, only to end up admitting to himself that he cared about MC just as much) and now, after all that, MC is determined to leave. I'm sure somewhere in his mind, he feels like he's failed.

He's puffing up his feathers as big as he can and screaming "look at me, look at me, look at me"! The big peacock man is flailing.

He's afraid. He's hurt. And so now these weird (and problematic) safety mechanisms are being put in place to protect himself.

Things in his mind are SO 'not fine' that now he's parading around trying to convince everyone (including himself) that everything is perfectly fine! Everything is perfect, everything is great, the outfits he chose are pristine, the food he settled on is text-book. It feels like he's following some sort of guide, like even the things he's saying have been pulled from a novel somewhere. It's not quite the way he normally speaks. If everything can play out the way he sees it in his head, there won't be room for error. Right?

And this isn't new behavior either. It was the ENTIRE plot of season 1 in Shall We Date. Lucifer locked Belphie away because he was worried of what might happen to his sibling. But in a way, 'protecting' his brother was mostly protecting himself.

He's worked so hard to create what he has, that he can't stand the idea of losing it all.

There's also a whole spiel I could go into about how everyone in the family fills a certain "group" role that keeps everything balanced and running smoothly (as smooth as it can get for them). For example, Mammon is the energy of the group, the drive. Beel is the motivator, the encourager. Asmo is the dreamer, etc. Lucifer has to be the guider, the manager, the authoritarian.

While, yes on multiple occasions, he's dismissed his brother's wild antics outright, there have been so many other instances where his brothers say "I want ___" and he gives them the advice or the structure they need to accomplish it successfully. OR even ending up providing it himself should his brother's wishes be genuine (Mammon's car for example).

When he's more on his own, he can drop that uptightness completely. As we see again in Shall We Date, when they're taken to the video game world, and when he doesn't have the worries and responsibilities placed onto his shoulders, he's capable of skipping classes to take a nap on the roof. And fully enjoys it, with a smile on his face and everything.

At the very root of him, while he needs to fulfill the controlling dynamic, he does not want to. At least not completely.

I've always known this, but Nightbringer actually gave me a big confirmation boost! In Wanders Whereabouts, Barbatos gives Lucifer a video call in which he tells Lucifer about all the recent trouble the brothers have gotten themselves into. Barbatos then proceeds to let Lucifer know that as their guardian, the eldest needs to essentially work harder to keep them in line. Then Barbatos sends the damages bill to him.

If he isn't constantly keeping his siblings in line, he takes most of the blame!

And thirdly, I think you are correct, yes. I think especially with the addition of Nightbringer and the anime, a good portion of the fandom is a younger demographic, which doesn't surprise me (listen I played Mystic Messenger when I was a preteen/teen, I was there when the dark texts were written). And a lot of what appeals to that demographic is the coming-of-age, rebelling against conformity sort of story.

And, I want to repeat, my initial post that you are referring to wasn't meant to come off as a "oh everyone is so stupid thinking Lucifer is this way, you should all love him" but more of trying to explain the fullness of his character since it can be harder to spot.

Like, people in the fandom almost always completely understand Mammon. He's not just, "tough and grumbly man who steals things". He's someone who struggles with admitting his own feelings, someone who lets his ambitions blind him from the troubles they can cause, and someone who at the end of the day, loves his family more than anything. And most everyone in the fandom fully understands this.

And yet, with Lucifer, a lot of people tend to take him exactly at face value.

There's a lot of things I could explain about him needing to play a "Parental Guardian Figure" while also just being their brother at the same time, and in a lot of media where the older sibling is forced to become a guardian, they get a lot of flack for not doing it correctly.

Anyways, I could ramble on and on and on about Lucifer as a character, but I think this a good chunk of condensed thoughts. And thank you for sending this over, I always love a good Inbox ramble! Especially about my favorite grumpy, sleep-deprived man <3

[honeyedmiller]

When It Rains | Pedro Pascal

based on this request here

pairing: pedro pascal x gn!reader

disclaimer: I obviously know Pedro is such a sweetheart and would probably never do this to anyone in “real life.”

warnings: angst, fighting, cursing, mentions of social anxiety, fluff, no use of y/n.

word count: 1.3k

-

You don't even know how it escalated to this point.

One day, you and your boyfriend come home from an event that went terribly. You barely got to see each other anymore, so that event was your time to spend with one another—until he was pulled in every which way for an interview, to talk to a friend of his, or to talk to current or past co-stars.

You knew he had a busy schedule and he was quite literally dominating the film industry at the moment, but fuck you just missed him. You couldn't blame him for genuinely being a person of and for the people. Everyone loved him.

That's not what upset you, though, no—it was the fact that he'd barely acknowledged you the whole night, not introducing you to the people he was talking to, and had you following him around like a goddamned lost puppy the whole night.

When you got home, you were exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally. You didn't bother trying to explain to him why you were in such a sour mood, which to you, was just you being silent. You were never silent. You loved to converse with Pedro, even when he didn't have the energy to talk. He still loved to listen to you.

When you said you were going to bed flatly, his mood absorbed yours and it just escalated from there. It's been days. Small bickering here and there, until tonight.

Something just snapped in both of you, all the pent-up anger and frustrations being laid down on the table for both of you to finally see.

"I don't understand your deal." Pedro snapped, squinting his eyes at you as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You scoffed at him and threw up your arms in defeat. "How about we start off with the fact that I was looking forward to spending a great night with you the other night. You brushed me off and acted like you didn't fucking care about me, Pedro. What the hell? Are you-" You paused, tears welling in your eyes. "Are you ashamed to introduce me to people a part of your 'world' because I'm not on your guys' level?"

He looked at you in complete disbelief, as if you blamed him for something that wasn't his fault.

"Don't even start with that. You know that's not true. Maybe you should learn to be a little less introverted and actually learn how to speak to people. You're a grown up, for fuck's sake." Pedro's words dripped with venom as he seethed, and the look of hurt was eminent on your face.

Pedro knew you had terrible social anxiety. The fact that he'd throw that in your face was hurtful and belittling. You never brought up his anxieties and used them against him in an argument, so the fact that he did that to you fucking hurt.

"You know what, Pedro, you're right. I am a grown up. But that doesn't mean I don't struggle with things any less. I'm not a part of the acting world, let alone even famous. I got that part. But fuck, if you're going to brush me off like that and treat me like I don't matter when I've been nothing but loving and supportive of you from the moment we've met, then maybe you should go find better." Tears were streaming down your face. You couldn't hide it anymore.

"What are you saying? Are you breaking up with me?" Pedro's angry voice faltered into a broken and confused tone.

"No, Pedro. I'm just saying that if this isn't what you want anymore, then you can go ahead and find better. Find someone who's more understanding of your career. I love you, but I can't deal with this right now." Your fists were balled up at your sides as tears continuously fell down your cheeks. You took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling before turning on your heel to walk to the front door.

"Fuck. Please, baby, wait." Pedro begged, moving closer to you.

"Don't."

That's all you said before you walked out of the front door, shutting it behind you. The chilly, gloomy weather made you wrap your arms around your frame as you briskly walked down the sidewalk, tears blurring your vision. Thunder cracked loudly above your head, making you jump and silently curse at Mother Nature.

Of fucking course the weather would match your sad, brooding mood. As soon as you felt one drop of rain, the downpour followed next. The rain soaked you to the bone, but truthfully, that was the last thing on your mind. You could've sworn you heard your name being called, but the pounding of the rain against the sidewalk made it nearly impossible to hear correctly.

You didn't bother to turn around and just kept walking for what felt like hours, before you reached a small local community park. You stepped on the muddy sand and made your way to the swings, sitting abruptly.

You couldn't help but cry your eyes out.

You knew dating a celebrity would come with some pros and cons, but you never thought Pedro would've been the type to brush you off. He was usually so loving and tender when it came to you. Seems like when it rains, it fucking pours... you guess.

You couldn't help but think that maybe you were being a bit dramatic with this whole thing. Maybe Pedro didn't mean to brush you off, or make you feel inferior. Maybe he didn't even realize what he was doing.

Your mind started running overtime, and you suddenly became overwhelmed with the thought that you might've just ruined what'd happened to be the greatest relationship you've ever been in.

All because you couldn't put your anxieties behind you and be an adult and introduce yourself. Maybe Pedro was right. You sighed as you rested your elbows on your knees, hands covering your tired, puffy eyes. You sat there for god knows how long, before you saw bright headlights flash on you as a car quickly parks on the street.

Your head snaps up and you squint to try and see who it was, because for all you knew, it could've been a fucking axe murderer. You heard your name being called distantly, the rain still making it a bit hard to hear. Your name was called once more as the person got closer, and you instantly recognized the voice. Pedro.

You stand slowly from the swing you were on, legs shaky and weak. All of your energy had been completely depleted from your body. Your wet clothing felt like a thousand pounds on your body, and your eyes hurt from continuously crying.

Pedro approached you slowly, his eyes clearly bloodshot from crying himself.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. So fucking sorry." His voice cracked as his hands reached for you. You stilled and thought about backing away, but you couldn't even fathom fighting with him or being angry for another second. All you want was him and his comfort.

"I shouldn't have gotten angry at you for something that was my fault. I know you try your best in social gatherings. I should've introduced you. I was a dick. I'm so sorry, baby." Pedro kissed the top of your head as you rested your forehead against his broad chest.

"I love you, P," You confessed, squinting up at him to prevent the rain getting into your eyes. “But I’m sorry, too. I should’ve communicated this to you and talked to you about it instead of being brash and walking out on you. Walking out shouldn’t have been my first move. I’m sorry.”

"I know darling, I know. Next time both of us just need to talk about it head-on. I hate fighting with you. I love you so much," He whispered the last part before kissing your forehead this time. "Let's get you home and comfy and dry." His big brown eyes were glossed over and soft as they looked down at you.

"I hate fighting with you, too. And yes, please, get me out of this fucking rain." You half laugh at the last part, arms tightening around his core.

"Of course, my love." He wraps his arms around you just the same, leaning down to give you a genuine, heart-tugging kiss.

The kind of kiss that happens in those cliché romcom movies that makes you fall for him even harder. The kind that makes it known to the both of you that he's yours and you're his... forever.

a/n: as someone who has social anxiety, talking to people (especially in new settings) is SO HARD so if any of you can relate, I feel u fr fr. Love u all <3

[ellebakers]

☆ I love you even more (+18)

Jake Seresin x reader

Summary : When your ex, Luke, tries to get you back, Jake, your friend with benefits, is ready to fight for you.

Warnings : +18 smut, language, fluff.

Monday morning is something you hate, but today is worse. You have cramps everywhere due to the frenzied evening you spent the day before with Lieutenant Seresin. You didn't know how it was possible but even your scalp hurt like hell, in fact, you knew how it was possible, it was probably due to the violence with which Jake had pulled on your hair when he took you from behind against the kitchen island. As you reminisced about the night before, someone sat down next to you.

"Hello my dear" You know this voice, it's the same one that, less than 24 hours ago, whispered to you "You're so perfect like that, screaming my name"

"What do you want Bangman ?" Jake leaned slightly towards you "Just remind you that you forgot that at my place" You frowned and looked down at where Jake had been pointing. You stifled a cry of horror when you saw your panties in his left hand, panties that he obviously ripped off of you last night.

"Hide it ! are you completely sick or what ?"Jake laughed, but put what was yours in his pocket.

"Alright, let's get to the point, today we're going to welcome a new member" exclaimed Maverick who had just arrived in the shed. "Welcome Lt. Duke "Rider" Cameron"

Holy shit…

Phoenix, your best friend turned to you, with wide eyes. It couldn't be, it couldn't be him. Not the Duke who broke your heart years ago. A rather muscular man with brown hair approached Mav and shook his hand. As he nodded to your colleagues, his gaze fell on you. As your heart raced, you felt not one, but two pairs of eyes on you. Indeed, Jake had noticed that something was wrong. He didn't like this guy, he didn't like the way he was looking at you, no one had the right to look at you like that except him.

"Who is this ?" he whispered to you

"My ex"

Hangman clenched his jaw at your answer. "What is he doing here?"

"No ideas…"

Phoenix, who had listened to your conversation and knew what was going on between Jake and you, turned to you "He may have come here to win you back" She knew Duke was a bastard, but what she also knew was that making that kind of comment would piss Hangman off, which might finally make him confess his feelings for you. She had no idea how her plan would work..

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Once the meeting is over, you fasten to go to the locker room, but Duke, who had every intention of winning you back, followed you, what Jake noticed.

"Y/n" Keep walking, don't stop, you thought. But Duke grabbed your arm and turned you to him.

"What? What do you want?!"

"Talk to you"

"No, now get off me"

"Y/n, I screwed up I know it and I blame myself. But if I came here it's because I knew you would be there, and I really want you to give me a second chance"

You looked at him like he was crazy "Do you honestly think I'm going to give you a second chance, after what you did!"

Duka sighed "It was an accident and-"

"Oh you mean you slept with my sister by accident? Like, you slipped and fell cock forward inside her"

"I-"

"It took me a while to get over it Duke, but now I'm happy, so stay out of my life"

"Happy? Really? Y/n I know it's not true, you may be happy at work, but not emotionally -"

"How do you know ?"

"Please, you haven't even been in a relationship since-"

"Angel, is everything okay?" Duke and you turn to whoever just spoke, it was Jake.

"Yes do not worry"

The blonde got next to you and put his arm around your waist, which surprised you, usually Hangman wasn't demonstrative, which made sense since you two aren't in a relationship. He smiled at Duke and held out his hand. "Pleased, Lieutenant Jake Seresin, callsign Hangman and" He paused before continuing to take the time to push a small lock of hair out of your eyes. "Her boyfriend". There was a long silence, Duke kept looking between you and Jake.

"Well, delighted. Lieutenant Duke Cameron, callsign Rider, and, Y/n and I were-"

"I know"

As you were about to speak, Rooster approached you. Noticing how close you and Jake were, he frowned but didn't ask.

"Y/n, Mav wants to see you"

You sighed "Ok, thanks roos"

You turned to Jake and Duke

"Excuse me"

"See you later baby" Hangman exclaimed.

The two men watched you walk away, and once you were a good distance away, Jake turned to Duke, his gaze dark.

"Look, I know why you're here, but I'm stopping you right now, she's out of reach for you. You had your chance, but from what I understand you were dumb enough to screw up. But I should thank you, your loss, my luck. So stay away from her, or you'll have to deal with me, okay?"

"Okay" And with that, Duke walked away, fist clenched and ego shattered.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

An hour later, you're sitting on the locker room bench as Phoenix tells you, word for word, the conversation she overheard between your ex and Jake. Once finished you shiver "Why did Jake tell him that?" Phoenix rolled her eyes "You moron! Bangman is in love with you"

"What? No, you're wrong"

Again Natasha rolled her eyes "So when you do something and your eyes are elsewhere, he looks at you as if you are the most beautiful thing he has seen. He is the one who proposed your small arrangement, all just because he's afraid to confess his feelings to you and it was the only way to have you all to himself, then today his jaw was so tight when he saw Duke coming towards you, whom she almost broke. And without forgetting the number of times he asked you to come and spend the evening with him, without sex, just you and him, and you tell me i’m wrong about the fact he’s in love with you ?"

"I don't know Nat"

"Do you love him ?"

"You know very well that, yes"

"So ! What’s the problem ?"

You groaned getting up to change "The problem is, let's say you're right. Ok Jake loves me, but what if he ends up getting bored, I don't want to go through another breakup, it hurts too much"

"Honey, if Bangman ever breaks your heart, I'll break his bones." You laughed at that "But seriously, you're one of the best pilots, you're hot, smart, nice, how could he get bored. You were made for each other"

"Nat–"

"Do you want to know something?" You nodded "I promised Bangman not to say anything, but you need to hear it. One evening at the bar, he came to get drunk because you had argued. I asked him his intentions with you, he m said, and I quote: She's the most beautiful thing that's ever happened to me, I can't get her out of my head. I think about her all day, and when I manage to sleep, I dream of her, I dream of being able to introduce her to my family, of asking her to marry me! Me who chained sex plans before meeting her. I only have eyes for her. She's so perfect that it scares me, scared that one day someone will take her from me."

You bit your cheek to stop yourself from crying, so it was true, Jake really loves you "Thanks Nat" You hugged her, once separated, she laughed lightly and said “He also told me that you are the best sex of his life” You laughed while wiping away the tears that had, despite your efforts, flowed.

"I love him so much, if only he knew"

"I think now he knows" The brunette told you. You frowned, not understanding what was going on.

"He's been on the phone with me since the beginning"

"What ?"

"He's in the gym. You should go join him"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Natasha was right, Jake was sitting on a bench in the gym, when you walked in he turned his head towards you. He stood up as you approached him.

"Y/n I–"

You cut him off by kissing him. When you pushed yourself to breathe, he opened his eyes slightly and licked his lips, you rested your forehead against his and closed your eyes.

"I deduce from your kiss, that everything Phoenix told you is reciprocal"

"Why didn't you tell me" Jake took your face in his hands "I was afraid, afraid that you didn't want me anymore" You looked up at him "Lieutenant, I will always want you, I love you more than anything" Jake pressed his lips to yours. He pulled back slightly and whispered to you "I love you even more". Jake kissed you again, then moved his lips to your neck. He sucked the place he knew would drive you crazy and you moaned slightly.

"Jake" He hummed against your skin and slipped his hand under your top "We will not fuck here"

He looked up at you "Angel, we won't fuck, we'll make love from now on"

You shook your head laughing "Then we won't make love here"

He snorted "Like we've never done it before".

You laughed harder and Jake couldn't help smiling seeing you.

He put a hand on your cheek and kissed you again.

"Damn, Coyote you owe me $20" You heard Rooster yelled. You turned around and saw Bradley, Payback, Bob and Phoenix standing by the door with big smiles.

"Damn, he finally had the balls to tell her he loves her ?" Coyote says running in the direction of the gymnasium to come and see.

Jake frowned and spread his arms quizzically. "Would you mind if you left us some privacy" The group growled but obeyed anyway "Privacy." sneered Rooster "Like we never heard them fucking" He said it softly, but you heard it anyway.

Jake closed his eyes "I'm going to kill him"

You shook your head smiling.

"What if you take care of me instead Lieutenant" Hangman bit his lip, then picked you up, put you on his shoulder and slapped your ass.

"I love it when you call me that".

[stanfanfiction]

Taste of You - Ken x fem!reader - PART SEVEN

Ken goes to therapy. He has a lotta feelings okay. Very Ken centric chapter. (Yay?) and (possibly) some of the most intense sex I’ve written sooo…let’s go. Probably the longest chapter I’ve written this far, too.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / there’s always smut there’s never not smut / lots of angst and angry feelings (Ken is trying to process all those hard human things because they’re getting to be too intense for him) / violent imaginative fears (domestic fighting, one instance of hitting 🛑 tread softly if you might be triggered by this (I don’t want anyone triggered or hurt!!)) / nightmares / rough sex / major overstim / size kink / sex toys / anal fingering / possessiveness / lots of crying tbh (Ken is emotional af) / dom!Ken / possibly bordering on some non-con ? Depending on how you view it / fuzzy sweet aftercare

Ken sat opposite the therapist, twiddling his thumbs, staring down at the floor. Occasionally he glanced up at the doctor sitting across from him, a kindly middle aged man (you had suggested he talk to a male therapist, saying maybe in some weird way it would help him deal with jealousy when having to be emotionally open with another man in the room), and he gave Ken a small smile.

“So when this strong jealous hits, what does it feel like?” The therapist asked. He had sensed Ken’s anxiety the moment he walked in the door and opted out of the sitting-with-the-clipboard-for-notes option, instead sitting comfortably in his chair, hoping a conversation-style approach would set Ken at ease.

“It’s like I’ll cease to exist if she leaves me.”

“And does anything help with that?”

“Sex does, kinda. Sometimes a lot, sometimes only for a minute.”

“Have you talked with your partner about it?”

“Yeah.”

“And how did that go?”

“She reassured me. She does every single time.”

“So this has become a consistent conversation?”

Ken paused, picking at nothing on his jeans. “I guess.”

“When was the last time you felt this way?”

“A couple days ago.”

“Did anything in particular happen to trigger it?”

“She’s having to take a class and her ex is in it.”

“Ahhhh.” The therapist mused, letting the silence sit for just a moment. “And you are worried about that?”

“I’m not worried she would do anything intentionally.”

“You’re afraid her former feelings might return for him, though.”

Ken nodded. “Yeah. I get she wouldn’t be able to help that, though. Feelings happen.”

“This is very true. Are you concerned about what might happen if those feelings return? Do you worry she would actually act on them?”

Ken frowned deeply. “I don’t think she would without talking to me first. But I don’t want them happening at all. The feelings, I mean. Because then there’s nothing I can….do.” The last word fell out as a whisper.

“You feel helpless in the relationship?” The therapist asked gently.

“Not…I.., I don’t know.”

“Have you ever been cheated on?”

“No. This is my first relationship.”

The therapist nodded. “Worries about someone leaving you are actually pretty normal, especially the first time you’re with someone.”

“Y/n told me that.”

“Has she ever shown any indication that she wants to leave you? Or that she ever might cheat on you?”

“No. I understand it’s all in my head. It still scares me, though.”

“Can I ask why you decided to come to me today? I assume this is the first time you’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah…she’s just taking a lot of classes and she gets really stressed sometimes, especially because finals are like a month away.”

“I can understand that. You feel like your jealousy is interfering with her ability to study?”

“It stresses her out more.” Ken bit his lip. “I don’t want to do that to her.”

“So are you worried less about her randomly cheating on you, and more that you are pushing her away from you? Or, encouraging her potentially into the arms of another because she is getting stressed with how you handle your jealousy?”

Fuck. Ken hadn’t thought of it that way before. Now he was even more frightened.

When Ken didn’t answer, just stared down at the carpet, the therapist tried again. “It’s okay to be struggling with how you’re feeling. The fact that you’re working to understand why is healthy, it’s a great move on your part. It also shows her that you want to be supportive of her, and I’m sure that makes her less stressed.”

“I feel like sometimes I’m a bad person.”

“Why is that?”

“I hurt someone I care about before. She didn’t want me, and I….I tried to hurt her. I wanted to feel like I was in charge for once, but I was cruel.”

“Can I ask what you did?”

“It’s a long story.”

“That’s alright. You can tell me about it when you’re ready to.” The therapist paused, working to see how much he might be able to get Ken to explain without pressuring him and making him shut down. “Can I ask, when did this happen with your former friend?”

“Well, she’s still my friend, I guess. She’s really nice. But we don’t see each other.”

“I see.”

“It happened, I don’t know, maybe a half a year ago.”

“Was it around here?”

Ken shrugged. “Kinda.”

“Have you ever taken y/n to where that happened? Or revisited the area alone, just to see how the memories made you feel?”

Ken’s chest tightened. “No.”

“Do you think that is something you might be able to do? Sometimes being back in a physical place where we wronged someone can help us find closure, especially if the one we hurt has forgiven us, but we have been unable to forgive ourselves.”

“I don’t want to.” Ken quickly wiped away a small tear forming, pretending it was something in his eye.

“Do you think y/n would understand if you told her?”

“I’ve told her a little. She wasn’t upset.”

“Does she know the specifics?”

“Uh…no…she met my friend, though. They liked each other.”

“Well that’s really good. Do you think she might be willing to travel with you, be present with you if you decided to try and gain closure?”

“…..I don’t feel like that’s necessary.”

“Can I ask why?”

Ken was silent for a long time. The therapist respected letting him internally process as long as he needed.

“I just think it’s unnecessary.”

“How do you feel you are working to help the problem right now, other than coming to me? Is there anything you’ve tried?”

“Just sex.”

“And why does sex feel like something that can fix the issue for you?”

“Because I have her then.”

“Have her with you?”

“Have her focused only on me.”

“Does she enjoy those times with you? Do you feel like she gets stressed, maybe feeling like she has to have sex with you so you’ll calm down?”

Well, fuck. Ken hadn’t thought of that. That made him feel even worse, angry, even. Though he couldn’t place where the anger came from….oh, wait.

“No. She likes it. She always likes it.”

The therapist was taken aback slightly by the sudden, minor shift in Ken’s tone, noting the aggression suddenly appearing, but kept his external demeanor. Being surprised was a good thing. It meant his client was starting to break through their emotional barrier.

“And can I ask, why would you talking about her enjoying those sessions be something that makes you feel upset?”

“She has to like them.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s all I have to offer her.” The words tumbled out before Ken’s brain had even fully processed them, and he sat dumbstruck, his own sentence replaying in his head. He felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest.

“Ahhhhh. That sounds like that’s a lot of stress you’re dealing with, too. Feeling like you only have one certain thing of yourself to offer her that she sees as worthy of her time must be exhausting for you.”

Ken worked hard to hold back the new tears that were coming stronger than he knew what to do with.

“Do you feel that she actually only sees you as worth her time because of the sex?”

Ken shook his head genuinely. “No.”

“So that’s another lie you have told yourself.” The therapist kept his tone soft.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to know right now.”

****************************************************

The walk home was torture. He tried so hard to think through everything they’d talked about as “healthily” as he could - the therapist’s words. But all he could think about was silencing everything for just a little while. He thought of getting home to tie you to the bed again and just fuck you for hours. Every time you were lying trapped underneath him was the only time he ever felt like he truly had any control over anything. But maybe today he needed to to be free to move however you pleased, to experience however you would wrap yourself around him or grasp onto his muscles or grab his hair. He could easily still keep you underneath him as long as he wanted with just his body weight.

The closer he got to the front door, however, the more overwhelmed he became, the voices in his head growing louder and louder, and suddenly he felt like he couldn’t even fuck you if he wanted to right now. He felt like he might collapse.

Ken opened the door as quietly as he could, not wanting to alert you he was home. Unfortunately, since the kitchen was very close to the entryway, you heard the moment he stepped inside.

“Hi, baby,” you said, turning while holding your coffee cup.

Ken froze, feeling embarrassed. He still didn’t know why he did, but he had worked to stop crying the entire walk home, without success. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks wet.

“Oh, Ken,” you said, setting down your cup and coming up to him, your hands on his face, your thumbs rubbing across his cheekbones. “It was a hard talk today?”

Ken nodded, hanging his head, his hands wrapping around your wrists. “I feel like I’m nothing to you, but I know better.”

“That’s okay.” Your voice was like a warm tea coating his aching chest. “I know you struggle with that. I can keep reminding you that you mean so much to me.”

“What if…like, I couldn’t offer you sex?”

You cocked your head, confused, but went with it. “I would still love you the same.”

He forced his eyes up to meet yours. “You mean it?”

“MMhmm. I do.”

He sniffed.

“Do you feel like I wouldn’t love you?” You asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, looking down again.

“Do you need some rest? Anytime I get really upset and have cried really hard some time in bed always helps me.”

He nodded, and you took his hand in yours, leading him to the bedroom. You helped him out of his clothes leaving him only in his boxers and went to the closet, pulling something out.

“Here,” you said, walking over to the bed and tossing a huge comforter on top of it. “This is my extra soft, cozy one. I used to use it all the time on really hard days awhile ago. I had forgotten I had it until now.”

He smiled a little then, reaching his hand out to you. You went to sit on the bed next to him, keeping your feet on the floor. You kissed his palm as his hand went to rest of your face.

“I love you so very, very much, my love,” you cooed. “But I need to get back to studying. I have awhile yet to go. I had just taken a short break to make some caffeine when you came home.”

Came home. Okay. Focus on the good things, his therapist had suggested. “Listen to anything that makes you feel safe or calm, try to enjoy the moment while it’s happening. This might help when you get stressed out to remember those times and know you are safe.”

“I’m home with you,” he mumbled.

You didn’t understand but nodded. “Yes. You’re home with me.”

He hummed, snuggling underneath the covers. “Okay.”

You smiled at him and kissed his cheek before picking up your laptop from your desk and picking up a textbook, heading out of the bedroom, closing the door behind you. You’d study at the kitchen table while he rested.

The home was on fire. Ken rushed through the flames, yelling your name, panic rising every second he couldn’t find you as smoke filled his lungs. Finally he heard you as you screamed, and his heart jumped in his chest as he rounded the corner to find your hands restrained to the wall over your head, blindfolded. You weren’t screaming in terror, you were screaming with pleasure. A faceless man was holding your legs around his waist, fucking up into you violently. It seemed you had no idea about the flames about to consume you, or maybe even who the man was. Ken tried to make his legs moved, begged them to, but he was stuck on the spot. He cried out your name but it seemed you didn’t hear him, your head through back in ecstasy as you moaned in time with the man’s thrust. Ken found a rock next to him and threw it at the man. It bounced off of him as if he didn’t even know it had been thrown, but then the blank face slowly turned to stare at Ken, a wicked smile suddenly spreading across his face where a mouth hadn’t been a moment before.

Ken sat upright in bed, gasping, panicking as he grabbed at anything he could touch, stopping only when he realized he had only fisted his hands up in the comforter. He buried his face hands, shaking, trying to stop the sobs that threatened to take him over again. He couldn’t remember ever having a nightmare before. He’d heard of them, but couldn’t even remember having a dream, only knowing they were something that apparently were a normal thing for most people, yourself included.

He tried to pinpoint the emotions he was feeling - something else the therapist had suggested when he got overwhelmed. Okay. Angry. Scared. Angry. Heartbroken? Fuck. Really, really fucking angry. He fell back into the pillows only to realize the sheets were covered in sweat underneath him.

You would help him feel better. He could go to you and you would pause your homework to soothe him and pet him and sit on his lap while he held you and hid his face in your neck. You wouldn’t be mad at him, you’d be so kind and patient like you always were.

He didn’t deserve you.

He didn’t deserve anything good.

The idea of going to you quietly to ask for comfort left his mind as quickly as it floated in, being forced out by a memory he created himself that honestly would probably never happen: you ignoring him, you telling him to get over himself while he finally was trying to understand why he kept feeling so angry like you had asked him to, you yelling at him, throwing something at his face. Telling him to….

“I can’t leave,” he cried into the pillow. “You said this was our home.”

You laughed. “Our nothing. Get the fuck out.”

You slapped him. He felt like his entire being shattered.

Ken was gripping the pillow so tight that his wrist began to cramp. Why. WHY couldn’t he stop these horrific scenes that played through his head.

The therapist had told him to breathe, even showed him how to inhale for four seconds and exhale the same amount of time. The mental scenarios weren’t real. They just might feel real.

Maybe he did need to return to Barbieland for a day…? Maybe he was dealing with fear that throwing Barbie out of her home could rebound back onto him…

UGH. Fuck fuck. This was hard. This was way too fucking hard. How was this supposed to help him get better, especially when your soft, perfect body was right behind that door, just down the hallway. When your voice could be filling his ears and drowning out at least most of these horrible things he heard in his head. Your taste filling his mouth, the scent of you, every inch of you, making him feel drunk.

You looked up from your book, Ken standing in the doorway. Sweat covered his body, his hair erratic, his face still as wet as earlier.

The concerned look on your face soothed him…but just a little.

“What happened?” You asked gently.

“I had a nightmare.”

Oh shit. “I’m so sorry. Do you need to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “Wanna forget it.”

“I understand that. Do you want to come sit with me?”

“Want you with me.”

“Yes, Ken, that’s what I said-“

“Want you with me.”

Before you knew what was happening Ken had picked you up and set you on the kitchen counter where you became trapped between the cabinets and him. “Need you.”

“What did the therapist tell you to do when you feel like this?” You tried softly, reaching for the hand towel next to you and gently wiped at his chest to remove the cold sweat.

“It’s not working.”

“It doesn’t always work right away.”

He wanted to slam you into the cabinets, forcing his lips onto yours, making you stop talking about all the bullshit he had been fighting inside himself ever since that stupid appointment today. He knew that was the wrong thing to do.

“Can I ask what happens to you when you choose sex to deal with these emotions you’re struggling with?” The therapist had asked. “Anything in particular that seems to help at all?”

Ken didn’t want to answer. Would you call the sex violent is he asked? Or would it just be ‘rough’? He didn’t like the word violent…you had never told him that word, so it mustn’t be so. You would have told him. You would tell him if he ever hurt you.

“Ken?” The therapist had said, breaking through the long silence that had followed his question.

“I….I tend to be rough.”

“How does that help you?”

“I don’t have to think as much as usual. It helps block it all out.”

“It blocks all of it out?”

“Well…not everything, not always. But sometimes. Sometimes I get to have moments where everything becomes quiet except for her. I get to just hear her.”

And he desperately needed to hear you now. His strong hand ripped your crop top off, tearing the material from how hard he had pulled. You sighed as you watched it thrown to the floor.

“I liked that top,” you said.

“I’ll get you ten more,” Ken promised, biting down onto your nipple.

You cried out, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Oh, thank god. The exquisite pain of the way your nails dug into his skin, the taste of your flesh, the sound of your voice. His mind quieted for a second, and he heaved a sigh of relief as his tongue circled your nipple, his hands on your back, holding you into him.

“Do you feel like you take your anger out on her during sex?” The therapist’s words echoed in his head. God fucking dammit, not now. He had you in his arms. He would have you underneath him any second now. He didn’t need these fucking questions interrupting any of his time with you, especially these times.

“I don’t know.”

“Have you asked her if she feels that way?”

“She wouldn’t feel that way,” Ken forced himself not to sneer.

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“Because she likes it.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“She would tell me if she didn’t!”

He slammed you into the wall now, your legs wrapped around him, needing to fuck that horrible image from his nightmare out of his mind. You had pleaded with him not to tear the pajamas pants you had been wearing and he had pulled them off swiftly, laying them in a single piece on the table before picking you up again.

“You like this?” He asked, voice breathless but harsh. He was terrified of your answer, but now that the question was on his mind, he couldn’t make it go away. God, the last thing he wanted to do was actually hurt you.

“Yes, Ken,” your head fell back against the wall when he bucked his hips up unto yours, the thin fabric of his boxers not doing anything at all to hide how hard he was.

“You’d tell me if I was hurting you?”

“Yes, Ken,” you repeated.

“Aren’t you going to tell me you should be studying?”

“Need a break anyway.” You sighed, angling your hips a little to try to get better leverage of him rubbing against your folds. “You feel good.”

Against his usual judgment, Ken pulled his cock out of his boxers and tested his tip against your opening before he tried fingering you to see how wet you were for him. Your hands clamped his shoulders tighter.

“Do you think you can take me right now?” He breathed into your ear and you giggled because it tickled a little.

“I can try,” you said, one hand traveling to grip the back of his neck as he started to slide into you.

Your cry was loud, and Ken’s mind once again quieted for a single moment, and he bottomed out in you as he experienced one more second of relief.

“I need her loud,” he had confessed as the session was ending earlier that day. “It’s the only thing that ever fully drowns any of the bullshit out.”

He thrust up hard again and your forehead fell into his, your eyes closed, focusing on your breathing as he stretched you out a little sooner than you probably should have been. His hips started snapping into you in a quicker pace.

“Can I lay down,” you shuddered as the pain became more pleasurable. “Wanna be comfy with you.”

“Need you. Need you right here for just another minute.” Ken tried to slow his thrusts but struggled for control as he tried fucking that image from his nightmares out of his mind.

His head hurt from all of the stress he’d been trying to process from the day. His head fell into your shoulder, closing his eyes, your moans becoming louder as he tried angling himself to hit your special spot. He left wet kissing along your neck, hoping it would help dull any pain you might still be dealing with, and when his name fell from your lips in a blissed out sigh he sucked gently on your pulse point.

The nightmare slowly melted from his mind’s eye and he slowed his thrusts until he had stopped completely, staring into your eyes.

“You’d tell me if I ever hurt you, right?”

You nodded. “You’ve never hurt me, Ken.”

He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently.

He had been saving a special something for you, something he had wanted to use on a special night, maybe after he finally took you out on a proper date. But he needed to hear you, see you react to it now. Maybe that was selfish of him. For the moment, he had lost the motivation to care.

“Close your eyes,” he asked, kissing your temple, and you smiled, doing as he asked.

You heard a buzzing sound and felt yourself becoming wetter. You hadn’t told him but you’d used the vibrator on yourself in the shower while he had been in therapy, loving a moment of personal release where you didn’t have to think about anything for a moment.

Your eyes shot open when you felt the strong vibrations covering your clit… all the way down your vulva, sliding into your opening. Your body jerked and you grabbed one of Ken’s forearms as he leaned himself onto the bed with his hand but remained upright enough to watch the way your opening clenched around the toy.

“Holy…ahhh.what…”

It was one of those vibrators were it had a clit stimulator but curved downward so it had a dildo attached to it that could slide inside you and stay without having to be held. The stimulation against your g-spot was delicious but automatically a little overwhelming, your vision going dizzy for a second while you worked to adjust.

Ken leaned over you fully, pressing your hands into the bed beside your head, wrapping his fingers in your own.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

It filled you up enough to compare to two of his fingers while having almost more of an intensity than it was when Ken nipped at your clit.

You nodded, gasping, and he smiled down at you, kissing your lips.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he promised, slowly starting to kiss down your sternum.

“Alright, I’m going to ask you a hard question, Ken.” The therapist laced his fingers together. “What if she does end up leaving?”

“You don’t have the right to say that out loud.”

“It’s probably a good idea for us to address this idea head-on. Ignoring it, stuffing it inside makes it worse.”

“How does it help if I think about it?”

“Intentionally bringing up fears and talking through him often makes them less scary. You’re able to conquer the biggest aspects of those fears, learn exactly what fuels the, so they become easier to deal with when they come up.”

“I don’t want her to leave.”

“I know, I-“

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“Our bed,” he mumbled, his lips attaching to your hip bone. “My y/n.”

You didn’t hear him, your ears filled with the buzzing from the toy.

God, you were perfect, writhing underneath him, even giggling a little as his wet kisses as they got to your stomach then going back to bunching the comforter up in your hands when the vibrator caused another spark of pleasure. Ken had made sure to lay out the comforter over the entire bed so you’d be extra comfy, like you had said you wanted.

“Well now I’m worried she’ll throw me out if I can’t stop acting like this.” Ken leaned his elbows onto his knees, his face in his hands. “Why would you put that idea in my head-“

“You already had it there, you told me so yourself.” Ken saw the therapist cross his legs through his fingers. He hated him. Not that he had done anything wrong…he just…he hated all of this.

“I couldn’t handle it. I don’t know how on earth I’d handle it.” Ken loathed how his voice choked a bit.

“Our goal is to make sure, to the best of our ability, that that will never happen.”

“I can make her stay.”

“Mine.” Ken flipped you over onto your stomach, the pressure of the toy being pushed onto your clit more intense from laying on it making you cry into the comforter. “All mine.”

He dipped a finger into you from behind, turning it upward to caress your muscle opposite the toy. You let out a strangled, throaty groan.

“What if she grows to hate me.” Ken’s words weren’t a question, they were as if stating a fact that was already coming into existence. He glanced at the clock. Why was time ticking by so slowly in this god awful therapy room.

“I do think this one is all in your head. Based on what you’ve told me, it sounds like you’d have to really go too far for her to ever hate you.”

“I’ll figure out how to make that not happen.”

“Unfortunately, we only have so much control over -“

“I will make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Ken slipped his belt from underneath the comforter, his hand almost shaking. Somehow marking you with his mouth was never enough for him now. He needed more. He needed you to react more, and lately his lips claiming your skin had made you relax more than anything. He wanted to be a comfort to you the same way you were to him. Somehow his brain wouldn’t let him see things that way, though. He didn’t know if he was ever truly a comfort to you.

You’d promised him he’d never hurt you. Thank god, because he was desperate for this release.

Your mangled scream filled the room as he bought the belt down, alternating cheeks, harsh and without pause. Usually he would wait a few seconds in between each for you to catch you breath, especially the first couple times. Today he saw red as the conversation with the therapist wouldn’t stop echoing in his mind, your legs shaking almost violently, your ass cheeks clenching as he kept finger fucking you alongside the vibrator.

Your body shuddered hard and you bit into the comforter, your throat raw from your screams as your orgasm hit out of nowhere. Ken didn’t even realize you hit your climax until he felt the way your muscle spasmed, knowing exactly the way you felt every single time you peaked with him inside you. Oh fuck, how on earth had he not seen that coming, heard the way your voice always hit a higher pitch right before it happened? He dropped the belt, focusing solely on the way his fingers touched you, his free hand pushing into your lower back as your hips bucked up into him.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, loving how long this orgasm was lasting. “Come on my fingers as long as you need.”

Your entire body was shaking as you came down from your waves, Ken pulling his fingers out slowly, wrapping his lips around them.

“Ken,” you shivered. “The vibrator.”

“Mmhmmm?” He knew what you meant, but loved the way you were remaining in a zone of overstimulation. He leaned over onto you, pressing his hips into yours, his cock rubbing into your folds.

“Ahhhhh….no, please….”

“No, please, what?”

“Ken!”

“No, baby girl. I need you to tell me. Need to hear you say it.”

“Need a breather, please, please.”

Ken bit into your shoulder. “What if I don’t want to?”

Tears stung your eyes. “I’ll do whatever you want, for fuck’s sake. Just turn it off for a minute.”

That got his attention. He stood up and reached down to press the button and your tense body finally got to collapse fully into the mattress. Your ass was bright red, your fluids coating the toy and dripping down your pussy a little bit. Ken licked up the toy from the middle to your opening, pressing it a little harder into you, sucking on your opening. Your back arched and you made one of those kitten noises that always made him become impossibly harder.

God, he needed to fuck you. He had so many ideas now, his mind thankfully able to focus solely on you and what all he would do to you before letting you rest.

“Oh, god, please be gentle,” you whimpered as you felt your leg grabbed, knowing he was about to tie you up again.

“Just gonna make you feel good,” he promised.

You turned your head to see his eyes, a layered mix of anger and fear and….he was trying not to cry.

“Baby,” you said softly, your voice floating into his ears, and he looked at you. “What is it? What are you feeling right now?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s okay -“

“I don’t need to feel anything.”

“But you’re feeling a lot right now.”

He changed his mind. He’d tie you up later. He moved you onto your back and you kept your legs closed.

“Talk to me, Ken. Let’s work through this together.”

“Don’t want to talk about it. Want to fuck you.”

“You’ll get to -“

“We’ll talk later.”

“Promise?”

“Open your legs for me.”

“Ken -“

“Open. Them.”

You kept your legs closed, attempting to sit up but Ken leaned over you.

“I need your legs open, y/n.”

“You want them open.”

“No, I need it.”

You shook your head. “Not until you talk to me.”

Ken sighed. He dropped the belt you hadn’t notice he had been holding in his hand on the bed beside you and leaned on his forearms to kiss you.

“What are you feeling right now?” You asked against his lips.

That you’ll be gone when I come tomorrow from work. That this will be the last time I ever hold you, feel you, hear the noises you make because of me. “Nothing.”

“Baby, please.”

“Let me back inside you.” His eyes stared into yours. “I swear I’ll tell you everything later.”

“How much later?”

He kissed you deeply again, hand reaching to push itself between your folds. “Soon.”

You relented and relaxed your legs so Ken could pull them apart. The moment your wet, pink folds were visible to him, he brought the belt down in a single, stinging blow.

You weren’t sure how your body reacted other than you struggling for breath, your vision dark behind your tightly shut eyelids, an almost static-like audio blocking your ears from hearing anything else more a moment. You heard Ken’s voice bringing you back, feeling his weight on top of you.

“Such a good girl. You’re going to be fine. Ride it out for me. I’m here.”

Your eyes opened and a loud whimper escaped from deep in your throat.

“You’re going to feel so incredible in just a moment.” Ken’s voice was soft, trying to soothe you. He gently brushed a finger against your clit and you scratched at his back in response, trying to find any way to ground yourself, but then he moved down your body and licked his tongue up you.

“Touch me, please,” Ken asked, and without thinking your hands gratefully pulled on his hair, thankful for something to grip and jerk on. Ken hummed happily, going back to consume your core, and you wondered where he’d learned all of this, if he’d thought it up or if he had maybe read it somewhere.

Like the last time he spanked you before eating you out, everything was incredibly pleasurable, but today times ten, your body experiencing the intense pain somehow making the pleasure even greater, every nerve and fiber stimulated.

Your lower stomach muscles were clenching as he worked his magic, the build-up of your next orgasm almost painful, but still in the best way.

“Need you to come for me again. Need you nice and wet and relaxed.”

“Why?” You almost didn’t want to know, your body still working to process all of this.

“You’ll see.”

Your orgasm hit fast and hard again, barely able to come back down from your high when Ken inserted the vibrator again and turned it on. You felt like you were having to force your brain to focus to move your limbs as you tried reaching down to turn it off but Ken intercepted, grappling with your thrashing arms until he had them pressed into the mattress beside your head, climbing on top of you and holding one of your legs open and down with his knee gently so as not to hurt you.

“Baby, baby, I’ve got you.”

You screamed in frustration, trying to raise your arms to no avail. “What if I wasn’t letting you recover when you needed to?” You wailed.

Ken arched an eyebrow and smiled down at you. “You have.”

“Not THIS much.”

“True. You’ll have to surprise me with it sometime.” Ken carefully turned you over onto your stomach again, holding your arms behind you. “Just ride it out, baby girl. You’ve got this.”

“Pleeaasee Ken. Please, please, please.” You almost sobbed with relief when the vibrator was turned off although it remained firmly within you, deep inside your walls while still covering your clit.

“Okay, baby. It’s okay. Take your time.” Ken lay beside you, propped up on his arm, his fingers gliding up and down your back to soothe you.

He enjoyed the moment as long as his head let him. The quiet broken only by your jagged breaths and little noises as you worked to calm your body’s quivering, the softness and warmth of your skin underneath his fingers.

The voices began again, a sickening layered mix of everything he’d heard the therapist ask today. The one question threatening to overtake him completely, repeating itself, becoming more cruel each time he heard it.

“What if she does leave? What if she does leave? What if she leaves? What if she’s already left? She’s made the plans. She’s gone.”

Ken laid his head next to yours, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Tell me you love me.”

You mumbled something through your panting, your nails still gripping the comforter, trying to ground yourself.

“Please. I need it.”

“Love you.” The words were almost incoherent.

“Again.” Silence. “Please.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, y/n.”

Your eyes remained closed, feeling so incredibly tired that you were sure if Ken left you alone that you’d probably fall asleep within moments.

You felt your left leg being pulled toward the bed post again as the silky tie wrapped around it tightly then being attached to the post.

You can’t not be thinking about him when he’s not around, when you’re in class, when he’s at work…he wrapped the second tie around your right ankle, jerking a little harder than he meant to when he pulled the knot tight. He thought about you all the time, nonstop…he needed to make sure you always had a constant reminder of him.

He needed to make sure he made you sore.

The vibrator turned on again and your upper back grew tight as you felt like you might tear through the comforter while trying to hold onto something. You felt not one, but two of Ken’s fingers push inside you, your tight muscle stretching around them.

“How does this feel?” He asked.

“Ss..so..much…” You felt a third finger join his first two and your back arched. “I…so…full…”

“Mmmmmmm.” Ken watched at the way your muscle worked to relax around his fingers and the vibrator, being stretched out slowly. “I need to make sure you’re ready for me, remember?”

Oh. Dear. God. He wasn’t going to actually try and fuck you!!??!

“Ken, please think about this. You’re not going to fit.”

“That’s why I’m stretching you out with my fingers.” His free hand roamed over your lower back and ass. “I’m gonna fit inside you just fine.”

“But you won’t, though.”

“Just trust me.” He removed his fingers from you to spread your wetness around your ass hole, easily visible due to how wide your legs were being held open. He wouldn’t do anything without making sure you were okay with it, and he probably needed to wait for another day because he didn’t want to push you too much over your edge, but his focus kept snapping back to how this was the only area of you no one else had ever claimed before. No one else had touched you here, fucked you here. Maybe, if one day you relented, he could make you his in a way no one else had.

He tested just the tip of his thumb into that muscle and your legs went rigid.

“Is this okay?” He asked, genuinely wanting to make sure you were okay.

You were shocked how much it felt so good, a new pleasure you hadn’t exactly experienced before filling your entire lower region.

“Yes,” You breathed.

He rubbed his thumb just inside, moving it in small circles, and your vaginal opening clamped down onto the vibratory harder.

Fuucckk. Fuck fuck. Ken saw and heard how beautiful you’d be, experiencing anal sex for the first time with him, breaking you in by fucking you while fingering your virgin hole so you could orgasm around him before he’d sink his cock into-

No, focus here, now. He knew when you were nearing exhaustion and despite imagining how hot it would be to actually push you past what was comfortable for you because god, what if you loved it, what if he could pleasure you longer than usual after that, and he’d jerk himself off roughly in the shower while creating those scenarios in his head…he needed to make sure he kept himself in control, make sure you didn’t get hurt in any way.

He pulled his thumb out and pushed his throbbing cock against your opening partially taken up by the vibrator.

“Are you ready for me, y/n?”

“I don’t know,” you confessed, jerking against the leg restraints, wanting to plead for another break from the vibrator before going forward but also needing to feel exactly what this was about to be like.

“I’ll go slow.” He pushed his tip in then and you keened, Ken gasping loudly between how insanely tight you were, pressing into his member almost painfully, and the vibrator on the underside of his cock sending chills through his entire body. He gripped onto your hips, forcing himself still so he wouldn’t bottom out in you and hurt you. Your gasp sounded almost strangled, like you’d had the wind knocked out of you.

“Breathe, baby.”

“It hurts, ahhh, ugh, Ken, Ken…”

Please, please don’t make me stop, he thought. “Do I need to stop?”

Your voice was like velvet. “No. It hurts but it’s so fucking amazing.”

Ken pushed further inside, stopping again when your scream filled his ears - god, yes, please, so perfect, your voice only rising so loudly only for him - waiting for you to calm down a little again before going deeper.

He shut his eyes tightly trying not to cum right then. He’d never felt anything so tight, the vibrations exquisite, your voice finally fully drowning out all the awful fucking conversations and anxieties of the day. Finally, everything was quiet.

Finally, everything was just you.

He bottom out after the fourth time he thrust forward, needed to feel every inch of you as he leaned over you, holding himself up on his forearms. You lay groaning under him and he used his thumb to encourage the slightest turn of your head without straining your neck, kissing you so sweetly it felt contradictory to the amount of intense stimulation you were experiencing otherwise.

His thrusts were tender, almost intoxicated in nature, pulling almost all the way out before bottoming out inside you again, but everything somehow felt different this time.

You’d made love to him in the past, but he hadn’t been able to feel that “perfect” connection he kept hearing about in stupid romance movies, like it was some sort of magic that only existed in fiction. He didn’t know why today, but he finally felt connected to you. Like his lips were created specifically for yours and vice versa, your body only existed in this state of pleasure because of him, and obviously he had only ever felt anything like this with you.

You had tried to prepare yourself for Ken’s jealousy-fueled anxiety to consume him as soon as he cock was in you, his thrusts rough and his eyes blazing as you’d have to get used to the pain - albeit really, really good pain - until it subsided and everything only existed in a state of pleasure, but you hadn’t expected this: languid and sweet and god, you were thankful for it. You’d never been stretched this much, never had someone somehow this deep inside you, even if it only felt like it was the deepest you’d ever felt.

His hips picked up their pace but only a little, your bodies somehow seeming to move as one. Ken’s head fell into the pillow right next to where you were facing him, wanting to watch you but his eyes closing, feeling a little overstimulated himself.

“You’re being such a good girl for me,” he panted into the pillow. “You’re always so fucking good to me.”

“I need to come, Ken.” Your voice was weak.

He opened his eyes then. “Tell me what you need.”

He fucked your through your orgasm, sucking on your neck hard to mark you on this special occasion as your muscles clenched and spasmed in such a way that if you weren’t tied up and held down under Ken’d bodyweight that you would have ended up in the fetal position from your body automatically trying to curl up and away from how intense everything was.

Your whimpers mixed with a couple tears that rolled down your cheeks sent Ken over the edge, him finally losing what little control he’d held onto as he bottomed out into you over and over again until the waves calmed, and his body shook on top of your trembling frame.

He wanted to stay there and just kiss your neck and back, losing himself in you while his head swam with the aftermath of his pleasure, but he forced himself to stand up and pull himself out, removing the vibratory from you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, your body still shaking, because usually you’d have been able to calm down more by now.

“Y,y yes,” you stuttered. “Need…I don’t…kno-“

Ken ripped your ties off and turned you onto your back, your limbs limply falling onto the bed.

“I’ve got you,” Ken promised. He turned on the shower and coaxed you to sit up, your full bodyweight leaning against his chest while he held you after he’d brought you a glass of water.

He carried you into the shower and had tossed in one of those fruity scented shower bombs that you always loved after a long day at school. He crossed his legs in a way to where he could cuddle you while you rested on his lap without having to sit on the cold tile floor, and held your head tenderly while you leaned against him, bordering back and forth between being awake and drifting off to sleep.

Had he intentionally exhausted you to this extreme of a point to make sure he wouldn’t have to talk about all these stupidly hard emotions like he’d promised he would? He would keep his promise, he couldn’t ever imagine lying to you, but he didn’t want to do it today. He couldn’t.

But he would, no matter how much he didn’t want to, as soon as you asked him.

“What do you want for dinner?” He asked, lips against your forehead.

“Mmmm…chocolate.”

He smiled. “Chocolate what? Cake? Ice cream? Just a bar of it?”

“Everything.” Your giggle was sleepy and weak, but it was perfect to him.

“Then I’ll get you everything,” he promised. “Also, whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’d like to ask if maybe you’d like to go on a trip with me.”

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[thefanficmonster]

Piss off your parents pt.3 (finale)

PART 1

PART 2

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Time wasted can only be compensated with time well spent.

"You wasted us so much time."

Y/N's reply is so far from anything he could've expected, he nearly sprains his neck when his head snaps up. To find a small smile on her face, of all things.

"What?"

There's a note of deep-rooted anger in the laugh that deflates her lungs, "How long?"

"Huh?"

"How long have you felt that way?" She doubles down, her gaze now stiffened into a glare piercing right through him.

"Since we fucking met, ok?!" He'd be less nervous answering questions in front of the FBI. He doesn't know how the script flipped to her being the angry one but it's clear she's gonna let him have it. And he's gonna have to take it, he owes it to her.

"I can't fucking believe you." She shakes her head, shifting to back further away from him and lean her back against the cold mirror behind her. She'd rather hop off the counter and run off - that's what sober her would do, anyway. But, for one, her drunk alter ego is a lot more confrontational, and for two - she physically can't do that. Somewhere along the past ten minutes, Colby somehow ended up standing between her parted legs, blocking her the ability to run away without even meaning to. "You've kept me at arm's length for a whole fucking decade! Treating me like a child, a porcelain doll you feel obligated to look out for! You broke my heart so ignorantly by sleeping around with half the damn town and bragged to me about it! You pushed me into brainwashing myself in love with someone else, led me to believe he felt the same way and now you have the gull to say you were in love with me all along! Bullshit!"

Hellfire, she's showering him with utter hellfire. Each thing she listed got worse than the previous just when he expected it couldn't. It unlocked so many memories he made a vow to never again visit. That was such a low point in his life he didn't notice he had dragged one of his best friends into it as well. Well she's spelling it out for him right here, right now. Loud and fucking clear.

"And to think I was in love with you throughout all of that...fuck, I'm stupid..." She adds in a whisper, highly contrasting the rain of bullets she unleashed seconds prior. It was meant more for herself than him yet it was the final blow for him. His heart is officially down for the count.

"Was? Past tense?" Colby's eyes widen immediately. He didn't hear the words in his brain, they were as news to his ears as they were to hers. He doesn't know where the audacity came from. It's as if he's asking to get smacked. At this point, he'd prefer that to whatever venom she might spew at him. All well within her right.

To his luck, Y/N's gotten tired. Physically and emotionally. And she can't keep the grudge flame alive. Not with Colby at least. She can't help the soft spot on her heart for him. A spot so bruised and sore she can't believe it hasn't turned stiff as stone. It can't, not when her heart starts racing within his proximity every damn time. Not when a smile spreads across her face every time she looks at him. It hurts, yeah, but she doubts it'll ever go away.

"Like it fucking matters." She whispers, again with the same bitterness from earlier.

"Yes it fucking does, Y/N." It's like his brain has been shut off, all rationality has gone out the window. "You said I wasted us so much time. Don't waste more just because you're angry."

She's quick to bite back, "How can I not be? You deserve it, Colby!"

"I know that!" He might not be rational, bordering on desperate, but he's still self aware enough to see and admit to the error of his ways. But he'll be damned if he lets go of this last string of hope. He's clinging onto it like a twig in a flood. "I know I deserve it. But we don't. What we could be, that doesn't deserve more time down the drain, Y/N."

Sudden banging on the door startles them both, reminding them they're in a very peculiar location. A public bathroom. The ladies' bathroom on top of all.

"One second!" Contrasting the deer-in-headlights panic on Colby's face, Y/N takes it upon herself to handle the situation. The sound has scared him into backing away from her, giving her the required space to hop down. She turns to him, poking a finger to his chest, "Act normal. Nothing happened."

With that said, she leads the way out, unlocking the door and slipping out, giving the two girls waiting outside an apologetic smile. They return two knowing smirks when they see Colby emerge from the bathroom right behind her.

"Sorry, girl. Didn't mean to interrupt." The brunette slurs, winking at them both before following after her friend.

"You're good." Y/N replies politely, muttering after the door closed, "You helped."

The pang in Colby's chest cannot be put into words. Before he's had time to recalibrate, she's already gone, having made her way back into the party, disappearing into the crowd.

And just like that, he feels that last string of hope break.

* * * * *

"Hey, I'm so sorry about what I said earlier." Nate shakes the strands of hair away from his eyes so can properly look down at his semi-sober companion who's currently carrying him towards the elevator.

Y/N can't help but smile at him. It hurts like hell but at this point it's like the twentieth blow to the heart tonight. She's become used to it.

"It's ok, Nate. Thanks for being honest and not leading me on." She's aware she's thanking him for the bare minimum but that little conversation with Colby earlier proved to her she should be grateful for that even. Hey, he could've lied. He could've stringed her along, had his fun and then pulled the 'nothing serious' card.

But that's not Nate. He could never.

You thought Colby would never lie to you either. Now here we are

"No, that's not what I mean. I got scared, you know? Friend groups don't survive romance. But I don't care now that I think about it. We should give it a shot. It could be great. Fuck what they think." His words are slurred and his eyes are glazed over, but each syllable is drowning in sincerity. Drunk words are sober thoughts and all that but she'd rather take it as complete nonsense right now.

"Nate, sweetie..." She readjusts the hold she has on her heels so she can grab hold of his hand, "I doubt you know what you're thinking right now. Let's talk in the morning, ok? Get some sleep, sober up, and then we'll figure it out. Sounds good?" She says gently, as if explaining to a three-year-old that Santa isn't real.

He gives her one of those smiles that were the initial reason she (thought she) fell for him, "Yeah." They stop at the door to his shared hotel room with Sam and Colby. Before she can reach for the doorknob, Nate turns to her, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. She momentarily lets herself play along and leans into his touch, knowing how wrong it actually is. "You're the best, Y/N." Their faces, almost instinctively, inch closer and she doesn't do anything to stop it. Fuck all rationality. This night can't get much worse, how bad could a kiss shared between friends be?

She never gets to find out though because the door to the room is thrown open, forcing them apart in an instant. The person standing on the doorstep makes it ten time worse - because of-fucking-course it's Colby.

Y/N immediately starts regretting what almost just happened, semi-glad it didn't. She shouldn't have let it get that far. She's doing to Nate what she was thankful he didn't do to her - stringing him along. She can barely recognize herself - almost kissing one of her best friends while being completely in love with another.

"Oh, um....sorry. I wanted to come help carry Nate up but.....guess you got that covered." He speaks up, trying to cut the awkwardness him and Y/N are currently drowning in. Nate is none the wiser, waving off his friend's apology with a quick 'don't worry about it'. He gives one last squeeze to her hand before going inside, leaving the two staring at each other.

"Is Sam ok?" Y/N asks, cocking her head to the side to take a peek inside the room where she can see Sam's shoes at the foot of the bed. "That fall was pretty bad."

"Yeah, he's fine." Colby sighs heavily, looking over his shoulder at the blonde in question, "Should've stopped climbing on tables like he has nine lives long ago. This might be the lesson he needed."

"Hey!" She frowns at him, "Have some compassion!"

He chuckles, opening his mouth to respond when a sudden yell cuts him off.

"Y/N? That you? Come in!" It's Sam, his voice conveying the pain he's currently in.

She knows she should be heading back down to the front desk to grab her key and go to her own room. But she can't just leave her friend on 'read' in real life and at such a dire time.

So, despite her better judgement, she goes inside to find Nate already out like a light and Sam laying flat on his bed with an arm over his eyes.

"Hi Sammy. Partied a little too hard there, dude." Y/N smiles softly at him, sitting on the edge of his bed.

Sam removes his arm from his face, looking up at her with puppy dog eyes, "Am I gonna die?"

Simultaneously both her and Colby snort out a laugh, sharing a look of mutual understanding and amusement before she returns her attention to the wounded soldier, "You won't. I promise. Just go to sleep." She replies reassuringly, readjusting the ice pack Colby had placed on his knee, causing him to hiss but still nod.

"Stay here for the night?" He asks, almost pleadingly. This interaction is a good insight on the siblingship they have. Colby and Nate have always been variables to her, but luckily she has Sam to be her constant.

"Where am I gonna sleep, Sam?" She asks lightheartedly, looking around the room at the two already occupied beds and the couch by the window.

"There." Sam points at said couch where Y/N can see some trademark Colby clothes splayed around. That's his little nook, clearly.

"And where's Colby gonna sleep?" She laughs, shooting Colby a soft look to find him already staring at her with the same gentleness she's always felt emanating from his eyes.

"The floor." Sam says with no hesitation, causing you both to laugh.

Colby is quick to flip him off, "Fuck you, man."

All he gets in response is a soft snore, alerting them that Sam too has drifted off. Probably for the best cause that scrape on his knee doesn't look pleasant.

And suddenly, they feel like they're alone. Sure, there are two other people present but a canon firing wouldn't be efficient in waking them up. So, they're practically alone.

Neither of them is happy about it.

"Really though, you should stay. What are you gonna do alone in your room?" Colby breaks the brief silence as he awkwardly struts across the room to subtly clean up the mess he's made on the couch.

Y/N shrugs, "Watch TV, drink some more, snack on something, pass out. The usual." She shrugs, carefully getting up so she doesn't nudge Sam out of his slumber.

"You can do all that here....with some company." He offers, cautious about every word that comes out of his mouth. "We don't have to talk about anything. Just raid the minibar and snack tray."

They should talk, they both know it. They're aware that they're at an age where they are considered adults. And adults talk about difficult shit even when they don't want to. They do what should be done.

Not Y/N and Colby, though.

They've cracked open a bottle of rosé and a bag of Cheetos and are currently sitting in silence. A comfortable one, for a change. They've quietly agreed to have this moment be outside the realm of everything else that occurred tonight. Like an island in a stormy sea. There will come a time when they'll have to talk about it, but most definitely not tonight.

Unless...

"Remember the first time we got drunk together?" She asks, watching the pink liquid splashing around in her glass.

Colby snorts at the memory, or whatever he can recall of it. "Barely."

"Yeah, same." She laughs, downing the rest of her wine, "I remember you disappearing for a good portion of the night. Sam and I found you bruised and bloodied hours later."

He joins her in the reminiscing, "That rose bush really did a number on me."

She takes a moment to look him in the eyes. She stays quiet, analyzing him in a way that heats up his skin as though her gaze were a physical force, "You didn't actually fall in a rose bush, did you?"

Ah, there's another lie. A small one in comparison to the first but still a lie. And since it's a night of confessions..."Remember Austin?"

He just unlocked a forgotten part of her brain, "Oh shit yeah! Whatever happened to that guy?"

A dry chuckle rattles his chest, his hand coming up to rub his face, "Well, in short, he liked you a little too much for my liking. So he found out what happens when I'm jealous and drunk."

Y/N can't help but smile. She's a simple girl, of course she finds it hot. But she'll be damned if she lets him notice. She quickly masks it with a joke, "Oh my God, you killed him!"

He laughs, shaking his head before leaning towards her a bit as if he's about to spill some government secrets, "Full disclosure, between you and me..." His eyebrows lift, waiting for her to nod a vow of silence before continuing, "I got my ass kicked."

She busts out laughing, undermining all concern for her two sleeping friends, "I'm not surprised." She teases him, reaching for the bottle for a refill.

Colby doesn't let that happen though. He quickly snatches the bottle, keeping it out of her reach, "Excuse you?!"

"You can't be salty after admitting it yourself." For caution purposes, she sets down the glass before getting up on her knees, extending her arm in a futile attempt at retrieving the stolen item. To her dismay, he just stretches his arm further, making it that much harder. "Oh, fuck you..." she mutters, hovering herself over his lap precariously, putting them in a pretty compromising position.

Colby kicks it into high gear, freeing his hand by setting the bottle down so he can sit her in his lap with a slight tug, earning him a small gasp from her. She settles into him just perfectly, like this is far from the first time they've found each other in such predicament.

Their faces are inches apart. His hands are on her sides, hers are on his shoulders. The proximity is more intoxicating than the alcohol they've consumed throughout the night. They are high on each other and are just now realizing it. Or just now admitting it.

"I thought we weren't gonna talk about it." She whispers, afraid of breaking the thin veil of tranquility currently surrounding them.

"We're not talking about it." His tone mimics hers as though he's afraid he'll scare her off. His grip on her is gentle but firm. It'll physically hurt if he tries to force himself to let go of her.

Luckily he doesn't have to because, before either of them know it, their lips collide.

The innocence of the kiss is brief and gone within seconds. Hands start roaming, breaths are shared, lines are crossed. And, technically, they aren't talking about it. But still, plenty is being said. A decade of pent up emotion is coming to fruition. It's nothing short of passionate, desperate almost.

Right on-brand for them.

* * * * *

"Hi."

"Hi."

They're fully clothed, cuddled up on the couch and alone in the room. Not all lines were crossed last night of fear they might regret it in the morning. However, if their smiles are anything to go by, nothing is being regretted.

Neither of them attempts to move from their comfortable little bubble. Neither of them cares that Nate and Sam probably witnessed this sight when they woke up. Neither of them tries checking the time. It's their way of trying to make the moment last longer into infinity.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Colby breaks the silence, threading his fingers through her hair.

Her ear is directly over his heart, listening to its steady rhythm she finds so much comfort in, "Just that I can't even lie right. I tell my mom one lie and it ends up becoming true."

Laughter vibrates throughout his chest, sending waves through her body as well, "Is this you asking me out?"

"Do you want it to be?" Y/N shrugs, tilting her head to look up at him.

He smirks down at her, "So much for rebelling, huh?"

"Shut up."

Knowing he won't do so on his own, she tends to the matter herself by pressing her lips to his, effectively shutting him up.

Tagging: @benbarnesprettygurl @beanredacted @m1tsk1l0v3er

[leviathanspain]

i just saw your guidelines , thank you!! sorry it flew right over my head, i appreciate you for directing me to the page when you responded :D

i have two ideas but you may choose which one interests you the most!! thank you again so much, i love your writing <3

would like a kylo ren x reader please, pronouns can be whatever you'd like but i prefer she/her. the point of view is up to you! i prefer second but i think you prefer third and/or first and i don't mind either or!

the first idea is kylo and y/n have been together for two years but it was kept within the first order and not public because kylo knew people (like the resistance) might use it against him. maybe during a fight between the first order and the resistance on a planet, y/n would get kidnapped by the resistance. this was finn's idea because he knows kylo has a significant other. what the resistance does with y/n is up to you, whether it be to lead kylo into some sort of trap, or to get information out of her, a mix of both... it's all up to you! finn knows that she's his only weakness. eventually kylo will save her. bonus points if she's in rough shape and in bad physical condition. kylo gets really upset because he thinks he’s doing a bad job keeping her safe and that he failed to protect her. angsty , self-loathing kylo but y/n trying to make him feel better.

the other idea has a bit of angst aspects as well but less action. it’s been about half a year or maybe even a year of kylo and y/n dating. everyone knows of his anger issues and tantrums. not even stormtroopers will want to be within 10 feet of him when he’s having an “episode”. the only person who would go up to him is y/n. one time kylo was so upset that he didn’t think before acting. when y/n went to calm him down he hurt her. nothing too physically harming , it hurt more emotionally than it did physically. maybe he yelled at her a lot and said things he didn’t mean , he could do anything. then she gets super upset and runs off to their shared quarters. he ends up finding her crying.

he’s never seen her cry or show weakness before.

you can pick one of the two!! thank you so much again and please , if these topics aren’t interesting , please tell me <3

stargirl

kylo ren x reader

synopsis: in your captivity, all you can think about is him, in love and in hate

a/n: anything in italics is a past memory, and i just combined the two into one, so i hope you like it!!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you had wondered when you’d be interrogated. it was inevitable, you had been through enough war and fighting to know that whenever someone was kidnapped and held captive, they would be interrogated.

you had done it before, multiple times.

you couldn’t say that you hated it. the only dark part of your morality let you love what you’ve done. of course, having the pleased eye of kylo ren staring at you was also the encouragement you needed whenever you felt doubts.

the door had opened unexpectedly, you could hear the woosh, and immediately you closed your eyes in anger, “what is it?” you heard the footsteps of heavy boots, most likely a trooper or a knight.

you turned around and saw the opposing figure of one of the knights of ren. you raised your eyebrow and the knight cleared their throat, “master ren has been acting strange,” again they cleared their throat, anxiety waved off of them, “he’s been..” they trailed off and you inhaled slightly.

the knight exhaled, their shoulders dropping with relief at your reaction. this was nothing new. kylo had his fits of rage or tantrums where he was practically inconsolable.

after working with him so closely and developing more than just a friendship, you were well versed in the game of calming down kylo.

you waved the knight away, “i will be right there.” the knight nodded, gave a respectful bow and walked off.

there was a loud slam against your cell that awoke you. the pathetic excuse for a blanket fell of your shoulders as you sat up, wiping your eyes as you heard the cell door creak open, “let’s go.” a hand came up to your arms and pulled you up onto your feet. you would protest, but you stayed silent, keeping a calm face. but the man’s fingers dug into your arm, making it hard for you not to cry out.

you were hauled out of the cell and practically dragged to another room, nearly as small as the cell, you were pushed inside, made to sit at one of the only two chairs in the room.

you looked around, there was no sign of the rest of the resistance members. perhaps they were hiding their prisoners away from the others, obviously on purpo-

“you can stop trying to figure out where everyone else is.” he was tall, a younger looking man, his face whispered familiarity.

he pulled the chair out opposite of yours and sat down carefully, his eyes grazing over your face. you looked at him, not willing to break eye contact.

he smiled hard, almost menacingly, “isn’t this odd? we’ve met, many times before..i know you, but you don’t know me..” he trailed off, “y/n.”

your name peeked your attention. hardly anyone outside of the order knew your first name. only kylo, a few officers, and the knights knew your true name. but you were always referred to as iza’re, or iza’re ren.

you narrowed your eyes at the man, “get to the point. what do you want from the first order?” you were getting bored, and if this is how it’s going to be, you needed to cut it short.

“you don’t know who i am?” the man looked surprised to see you so nonchalant. as if your true name was supposed to be the key to everything.

you shrugged again, leaning your elbows on the table, you got close to his face, “you say that like i’m supposed to care. i won’t repeat myself again,” you hissed, “what do you want from the first order?”

“get out. all of you!” kylo ren’s anger exhibited itself in his voice, a large hand outstretched itself towards the door, the metal door heaved open with the force and the rest of the troopers filed out, quickly as can be.

fn-2187 stared at kylo ren. even under his mask, he could just imagine his expression. fn-2187 knew that the moment you had walked in, that this wasn’t going to end well.

he followed the rest of the troopers out to the hallway. there was a large window that allowed people to see in, and fn-2187 had walked slow so that he could end up in front of the window.

“you need to calm down.” you had been talking to kylo through the force the entire way here. he was being stubborn, unresponsive to your usual tactics, you realized that maybe this wouldn’t be like other times.

“kylo.” you called his name, his back was turned to you and you were dying in the silence.

“why can’t you ever just stay out of it?” kylo turned around on his heel, the dark fabric of his cape followed him, and he began to stalk towards you, “hmm? why do you always think that you can save the day? you’re pathetic. a pathetic excuse for a force user, a pathetic excuse for a soldier of the first order..” he listed off all your weaknesses in a cruel list, “i cant stand to look at you. you make me fucking sick.” he had stopped you cold against the wall. even just arms length away from you, you could feel the rage, feel the truth to his feelings radiate off of him.

you wanted to cry. right then and there, you wanted to ball yourself up and sob on the floor.

but you scrunched your face slightly, as if not to lose the nerve, “find me when you’re done being an asshole.” you didn’t even look at him as you stalked past him, glancing at the open window towards the troopers, who were all facing away from the window.

except for one.

“what do you mean you ‘think’? we’ve been holding her for days and you’ve been in there for hours, and that’s what you’ve come up with?” poe had been overseeing the interrogation, and it was clear that it was going nowhere.

“threatening to blow up starkiller base would get us somewhere if we actually could.” poe rubbed his face, the feeling of a headache was coming on.

“why can’t we?” finn stared at poe, and poe laughed, realizing that finn was being serious.

“are you sure it’s her? it couldn’t be someone else? another trooper, perhaps?” poe looked at finn, who sighed, “she’s the only one i’ve ever seen that close to ren. it’s gotta be her.”

kylo hadn’t thought to apologize. but you had been ignoring him for days, even going as far as having stormtroopers deliver messages.

he had had enough when he had tried to talk to you through the force, and felt nothing in response.

“are you done?” the sound of the metal door opening had you turning your neck to see kylo ren, helmet off, hair dishelved, stalking in.

he set his helmet down on your dining table and kicked his shoes off, “i asked you something.” he stared down at you, his eyes searching you for something back.

“really?” you come in here after the way you talked to me a few days ago and expect us to be fine?” you looked up from your data log and stood up, “you yelled at me, tore me apart, called me pathetic many times over-“

“i’m sorry.” kylo interrupted you, and his face softened. this was utterly unlike him.

“what?” your own voice sounded distant and you blinked. a hand flew to your chest to feel the beating heart inside, “did you just-“

“yes. i am sorry.” kylo walked over to you, and watched as your face broke, tears spilling as you walked into his arms.

silence and the sounds of your sniffles filled the room. all that you ever wanted from him was an apology, and he had finally done it.

“i swear to you,” kylo broke the silence, the quiet was drowned out by his husky voice, “that i will never do that to you again.”

“and you caught them..?” poe’s eyebrows knitted together with confusion. his pilot uniform jacket hung on the chair beside him, as he paced the room, “let’s rewind,”

finn nodded, and poe sighed, “you were sent down to give her a message,”

“it had something to do with the knights.” finn had tried to remember what exactly the message was about but it had been nearly two years since then.

“and instead kylo ren answered the door?” poe repeated the events and finn nodded. “are you sure it wasn’t his quarters and you’re just an idiot?”

finn’s expression fell and he rolled his eyes, “stormtroopers are supposed to know. it was her quarters, her name was in a blazing plaque outside the door.”

a knock at the door had interrupted you. kylo had stripped off his clothes, leaving only the thick black sweatpants on, but even then, they hung dangerously low on him.

you, on the other hand, barely had anything on.

“fuck.” you cursed, and stuffed whatever shirt you could find off the floor. just by the scent of it, you knew it was kylo’s, but you still shrugged it on. you got off the bed, trying to find some shoes but kylo grabbed your arm, “i’ll get it.”

he was already getting up, and even with your protests, it was too late.

“master ren!” the robotic voice of a trooper met your ears and you cringed. troopers talked, and this was definitely something to talk about. there was an exchange of words between the trooper and kylo, until finally, “you are dismissed, fn-2187.”

“that’s kind of hot, no?” poe had been staring a little too long at the wall, clearly imagining what finn had described.

finn’s face turned into a picture of disgust, “there is something wrong with you.”

“iza’re to starkiller base. iza’re to base, does anyone copy?” you were falling, and fast.

the resistance had been chasing you for almost an hour. you had tried to lose them in some astroid graveyard but they were on your ass, until they shot your ship.

“fuck! someone! iza’re to base!” your hands clutched at the controls as you felt your chest rise and fall with fear.

kylo was right. you should have never gone off alone.

“kylo! im just off the astroid chunks by naboo.” just as you had finished telling your location, the ships power shut off, and you felt yourself blackout as the ship began to fall harder.

kylo had them playback your voice. over and over again.

the fear in your voice had been seared into his mind for days. he had tried to reach you over the force but was met with nothing. the usual thrum of your power would at least let him know you were alive. but he felt sick when he felt nothing.

“and no one heard this until when?” kylo looked around at the table filled with officers and military personnel. they all had this look of stupidity on their faces that made kylo want to knock them all out cold.

“this morning-“ a staff spoke up, “we believe she was taken by the resistance.”

kylo’s hands smashed against the table, “this morning?! find her!” he yelled at the officers. he raised his hands and suddenly they were all clutching at their throats, “find her now or i will murder every single one of you until someone does.”

“she’s loyal.” rey had observed, watching you through the glass, she wondered if you could see them all, gawking at you.

“of course she is. she’s sleeping with the supreme leader of the first order.” poe commented, rolling his eyes slightly, “i say we just lie.”

finn turned towards poe, “didn’t you just say that we shouldn’t lie? you got all mad-“

poe shrugged, “i was a different person then. say that ren is dead, and the first order is ashes-“

“oh like she’ll believe that-“ finn replied sarcastically. he had his hands on his hips and stared at you.

you were looking off into the distance, totally unaware of them on the other side staring at you.

“she’ll know. you said she’s a force user, correct?” rey peered at you and finn nodded, “yes. why?”

“she’ll know we’re lying. she probably also knows that we can see her,” you turned suddenly, meeting their eyes, “-right through this glass..” rey trailed off, and poe whistled lowly.

“wow. this is embarrassing…” poe laughed nervously. finn laughed, patting his friends shoulder as he walked off.

kylo was close. he hadn’t realized until now that it was the distance muffling your power. he could feel you, a quiet thrum in his head, he knew you were close.

“kill anything and everyone. i don’t care- just get her out alive.” his instructions were incredibly clear to the knights and troopers. he wanted you more than he wanted the resistance gone.

“so..” he had been trying to get you to talk for almost thirty minutes now. unlike his friend, this one seemed to be a little dull. “what’s between you and ren?”

you raised your head, and narrowed your gaze, “you mean my superior, the supreme leader kylo ren?” you were so serious that poe had to think about it before nodding weakly.

“nothing. bring me the trooper. fn-2187, is it? at least he knew what kind of questions to ask..” you waved a hand, dismissively towards the man and turned away, hoping he would leave.

“oh my god.” poe let the words escape as he shut the door behind him, “i don’t know what he sees in her-“ he looked at finn, “she’s asking for you. like specifically for you.” he raised his eyebrows at finn, who laughed in shock.

rey looked at the men, “don’t tell me you’re going to go in there.” she held up a hand to finn and he shrugged, “what else should we do?”

rey sighed, “give her up? she’s clearly nobody to ren, maybe finn was wrong.”

kylo ren had blown up half of the resistance base. he had felt nothing as he did so, and nothing more as he stepped off his ship, and hauled ass to wherever the hell you were.

he tried to use his own force powers to try and locate you, cutting down anyone that tried to fight him.

but it was worth nothing. nothing drove kylo ren more than you, and he would find you even if it killed him.

the argument between poe and finn had barely lasted before the emergency alarm had gone off. shouts echoed down the hall and they all began to run.

troopers were all over the place, blasters were shooting at everyone and they knew this was kylo.

“maybe finn was right..” rey looked at the men with a sheepish smile, and finn rolled his eyes, “get down!” he shouted at rey, who just barely ducked the blast that was shot towards her.

“if it’s him then shouldn’t someone go fend him off?” finn stared at poe and rey, as if waiting for one of them to volunteer.

poe shrugged, “i don’t think she’s worth it. barely talked.” finn didn’t even bother arguing when rey began to agree.

you could hear the sounds of a fight through the door. you couldn’t see through the glass window, but you could just imagine it.

the door opened and you half expected to see one of the two guys who had been interrogating you. but instead there he was.

wearing his usual all black, kylo cut down the room and immediately opened his arms, pulling you into them. “y/n..oh y/n.” there was a sigh of relief as you wrapped your arms around him.

you were crying.

this entire time you had forced yourself not to cry, not to show emotion. perhaps you had saved it for this moment. “kylo.” his name rolled off your tongue, “im sorry.”

kylo shook his head, “don’t. it’s all my fault. i should’ve just gone out there with you.” he scolded himself, shaking his head as he thought back to what he could’ve done.

“no. don’t. you always do that, you take responsibility for a decision i made.” you hugged him even tighter, “don’t. okay. just don’t.”

kylo didn’t even protest, he just held you all the more tighter in his arms.

[freakoont]

❝𝐘𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬❞

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐠𝐬

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐀𝐤𝐢𝐤𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐨

【ＳＦＷ　ａｎｄ　ＮＳＦＷ ｉｎｃｌｕｄｅｄ】

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

GENDER NETURAL BUT AFAB READER sorry :')

REQUESTS ARE OPEN ! check the bottom of this post for information <3

︵‿︵‿୨🦋୧‿︵‿︵

【ＳＦＷ】

Before you started to go out together, Yosano had a soft spot for you

For example, compared to the other agency members, when you got hurt she got more protective and would be much nicer with her... Words, unlike with Kunikida or Atsushi where she would full on chain saw them

Yosano would bring out less "scarier" weapons and be like "this will only hurt for a moment"

It did not hurt JUST for a moment ರ⁠╭⁠╮⁠ರ

"(Y/N) you need to hold still."

"HOW CAN I DO THAT WHEN IM TIED DOWN ?! PLUS. plus. Tanizaki warned me about your.. methods."

"yes..."

"this won't hurt."

"..for me"

"WHAT DOES THAT MEAN."

Yosano will always look for you first whenever she needs to go out shopping

She loves shopping with you, whether it's for groceries, tools, supplies or for a fun day like getting some new clothes, she'll always have your opinion on something she's getting

Be careful around her when she's drunk though

She loves you... But be careful

She will become a force that can't be stopped as soon as that scalpels in her hand

Of course, you will have to drag her home and take care of her. Sober her up as she's wobbling around a bit

Yosano once grabbed you arm and you thought she was pulling you in for a kiss.. just for her to fall out the best.

Drunkard ಠ⁠﹏⁠ಠ... But we love her (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

"Yosano you need to get to bed"

"(Y/NNNnnn)" she grabbed your arm randomly with her lips perked and pulling you closer slowly.

( THUD )

Yosano tiredly fell face first on the ground, just laying there for a moment. "...ueghhh"

"..Yosano what the actual.. nevermind."

Yosano is an amazing cook, she's just not one to do it often.

She gets too tired after a long day at the Agency, which is every day, and just immediately falls asleep with you under her arm on the couch

She's always happy to help you whenever you feel under the weather. Mentally, physically and emotionally.

She has always been a good listener, sadly she isn't too good with advice. She just drags her fingers along your back to sooth you and apologizes for your mishap.. hoping you to be better

OF COURSE, just because she's bad at vocal help doesn't mean she won't TRY to cheer you up.

She'll drag you somewhere outside or inside and do whatever makes you feel better

Yosano is the type of person to play a horror movie, SPECIFICALLY AND ESPECIALLY if you hate them or get scared easily

She'll just watch you hide your blanket, ready for you to jump into her arms so she can hold you

She'll be very chill about it, like "it's just a movie, get over yourself" or "dont worry, I'll protect you, sweetheart" as she continues to hold you tightly and protectively with a smug smirk

...either that, or she'll scare you herself </3

Of course, she doesn't mean any of that, just messing with you a bit

Yosano is in between with PDA, like she doesn't mind or get embarrassed easily in public.

She'd also rather have all her special moments with you in private specifically

She uses small or common pet names like "sweetheart" or "darling"

she LOVES leaving little red lipstick kisses on you, ESPECIALLY when you don't realize it's on you and you're walking around with it in the agency or somewhere else

Makes her a little proud of herself to bag someone like you(⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠)

(Atsushi) "...(Y/N)"

"Yeah?"

"...there's, uh... Something on your..." He pointed to his forehead, signaling to you that you had something there.

You pull a small mirror out to see..- "YOSANOO"

She's a bigger teaser

Like, If you're the type to be a nervous wreck or very clumsy, Yosano will always shake her head but help you up and then tease you about it later.

To add on, shes VERY protective of you. Sometimes a littttttle overprotective

She will not stand for ANY disrespect that comes to you, smacking down any person(⁠ノ⁠｀⁠Д⁠´⁠)⁠ノ⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

She's the type to treat you like a princess one moment, before straight up putting you in your place the next.

She'd be like "darling, c'mere please~!" before completely just pulling you by your wrist, lovingly, and just "love, come here." Or "GET YO ASS OVER HERE--" as she chases you down to fix your bruised arm

Yosano loves it when you're sleeping on top of her, it allows her to feel like she's protecting you as her arms wrap around you and she'll brush her finger through your hair or against your back.

She'll often watch you sleep before allowing herself to rest, she wants to makesure your comfortable

.... She snores (⁠ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ⁠)

And is a very rough sleeper. MEANING that she will basically start throwing hands, kicking and pull most of the blanket for herself in the night

But as soon as you start moving to sleep on the couch, she'll wrap her arms around you and pull the blanket over you allowing you to sleep... She'll start sleep fighting again though

Loves to receive and give

Her biggest love is for flowers, specifically dark colored flowers like dark red roses OR hand crafted gifts like paper rings

She finds the colors so mysterious and lovely

She's the type to decorate her desk with your gifts, especially the small and cute ones

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

【ＮＳＦＷ】

She's a top, and will very rarely allow you take control

It's not a control libido or anything like that, she just loves to give them receive in this instance

Often will have you, and her, both in dark lingerie

She'll always comment on how beautiful you are, "beautiful patient" "pretty lady" "sexy girl" LMAO

She is very good at oral, often nibbling on your thighs and leaving little hickies and bite marks

SPEAKING OF WHICH she loves to mark you, but only in private areas where she's allowed to see.

Makes her feel special when you allow her to do such intimate things

She will. edge you at the Agency

When no one is in the room or looking, she'll move her hand against your thigh and move it up your shirt of under the waist band of your pants, testing you against your panties

"Yosano, wait.. not here-"

"shhh, sweet girl, you don't want the others to hear how loud you can really be.." Yosano whisper against your ear.

Your hips would buck against her fingers. You can feel her smirk tugging at the edge of her lips. "..naughty girl."

Often will only degrade you when she's edging you, the rest of the time she'll fill your ears up with only praises and compliments

Loves to nibble and suck on your breasts

Hear me out, IF YOU HAVE NIPPLE RINGS SHES MATCHING WITH YOU.

Probably has a few kinks

Loves it when you tug on her hair if she's testing your limits

She isn't very loud, unlike you

She's good at concealing her noise, COUGH ESPECIALLY if you guys are doing a quickie in the emergency room at the Agency

Yes, I do think she'd like quickies but NOT in public areas like behind a building or in a photo booth. Makes her feel icky compared to a place she's comfortable in

She's good with her hands, usually will use them to trace patterns against your skin and slowly moving it in sensitive areas she knows really mess with you

Because she's a doctor, she's good at anatomy(⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)

Knows all your sweet spots you love getting touched at like the back of her palm

Loves to keep eye contact, because she knows that you wouldn't be one to keep a straight face as she stared you so smug

As Yosano practically ate away at your entrance, her fingers teasing your clit while her other hand had two fingers inserted inside your aching core, she wouldn't dare look away.

You on the other hand, it was so difficult. You wanted to watch her eat you out, but with the way her eyes had a hint of lust and intimidation, you couldn't handle it.

She could tease you without even saying it.

Has definitely used toys before, not often though

It's up for debate if she likes to use vibrators because she's prefer doing the work herself unless she's feeling tired or lazy

Using a dildo strap is a turn on, receiving and giving

༻༺━━━━⁎∗.*.∗⁎━━━━༻༺

REQUESTS - I am accepting any requests for any character for the following fandoms:

Bungo Stray Dogs, Genshin Impact, Danganronpa, Ninjago, Southpark, Obey Me, 7 Deadly Sins, Tokyo Revengers, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Death Note, Walking Dead, Demon Slayer, Assassination Classroom, Hunter X Hunter, Komi Can't Communicate, Diabolik Lovers and Doki Doki Literature Club

I will write any of the following: smut (all characters WILL be aged up), fluff, crack/joke, specific plot, angst, HC's, BL, GL

Do not expect me to write any of the following: intense gore scene, sexual themes that are disturbing to most people and anything that will get me banned for a specific and obvious reason.

I accept requests for any character from any of the fandoms I have named :)

[beautifulblooms]

can i please have a ghost x male reader fic based on bad habit by steve lacy. yeah. yueah. go on. fuck youj. fuck you you son of a fucking bitch,,. PENDEJO. ПИДОР СДОХНИ МАТЬ ТВОЮ ЕБАЛ ДЕДУШКУ НА ХУЮ ВЕРТЕЛ БАБУШКУ В ЖОПУ ЕБАЛ ВСЮ СЕМЬЮ В СТРАТОСФЕРУ ЗАПУСТИЛ СИЛОЙ СВОЕГО ХУЯ УЕБАН ТЫ БЕЗМОЗГЛЫЙ В ДЕТСТВЕ ГВОЗДИ ЗАБИВАЛИ БАШКОЙ ТВОЕЙ ЕБАНОЙ ЧТОБ ТЫ УМЕР

Never Gave Me Time of Day, My Dear - Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" Mactavish (implied) + Male! Sergeant! Reader

Very important side note about the request itself, everything said was a joke and wasn't genuinely meant as an insult to me. If anyone thinks it's okay to send me threats, insults, or slurs in my inbox that isn't my friend and expresses it as a joke will be blocked immediately

ehehe, I had too much fun with this, it's not super sad but it's just kind of...ouchie, anyways, enjoy more Bad Habit fics, I love making people cry <3

CIS Women and Female Aligned people, please DNI, this story and all of my others are for non-binary, masculine aligned and male readers!

Leaving his room in the barracks, (y/n) wasn’t paying attention to the world around him, too emotionally distraught. Of course, it was stupid of him to fall for his lieutenant, but he couldn’t help it, he was stern on and off the field, but was kind with (y/n), patient, and helpful with him too. Heading straight for one of the training rooms he put in his earbuds and played a random playlist, Bad Habit by Steve Lacy starting to play as he pulled the dummy out of the corner. Getting into a fighting stance (y/n) started to throw hits at the training dummy, the lyrics blasting in his ears as images of Ghost and Soap being cuddled up in the common room flooded his mind. “I wish I knew you wanted me. I wish I knew. I wish I knew you wanted me. I wish I knew. I wish I knew you wanted me. What you, ooh, uh, what you do? Made a move, could've made a move. If I knew I'd be with you, is it too late to pursue?” As the song continued to play, (y/n) could feel tears fill his eyes while things started to piece together in his head. All the times that Ghost would show up late to training and seem more flustered and sloppy during sparring…him leaving the common room the moment Soap would show up and barely even wave at him. 

“I bite my tongue, it's a bad habit. Kinda mad that I didn't take a stab at it, thought you were too good for me, my dear. Never gave me time of day, my dear. It's okay, things happen for reasons that I think are sure, yeah.” The tears gathering in his eyes started to spill as he kept punching and kicking at the dummy, his movements sloppy and fueled by anger and sadness. Was Ghost leading him on, on purpose? Was it a mistake or did the lieutenant mean to play with (y/n)’s heart like that? 

“I wish I knew, I wish I knew you wanted me, I wish I knew, I wish I knew oh, I wish I knew you wanted me. I wish I knew, Yeah, I wish I knew you wanted me, oh. I wish I knew, I wish I knew you wanted me. Please say to me, please, just say to me. If you still want it I wish you wouldn't play with me, I wanna know, I wanna know.” His knuckles were surely bruised and splitting at this point but he couldn’t care less, only needing to get his anger out one way or another…(y/n) didn’t even know if it was anger at himself or anger at Ghost for leading him on.

“Can I bite your tongue like my bad habit? Would you mind if I tried to make a pass at it? No, you're not too good for me, my dear, funny you come back to me, my dear. It's okay, things happen for reasons that I can't ignore, yeah. I wish I knew, I wish I knew you wanted me. I wish I knew, wish I knew, I wish I knew you wanted me, oh.” Ghost stood in the doorway of the training room, hoping to come see (y/n) and train with him, but seeing the sergeant in such a distraught Ghost frowned behind his balaclava and left. He’d never seen (y/n) so…upset, so emotionally driven to go as far as hurting himself to relieve the anger. 

“You can't surprise a Gemini, I wish I knew. I'm everywhere, I'm cross-eyed, and, I wish I knew you wanted me. Now that you're back, I can't decide, I wish I knew. If I decide if you're invited, I wish I knew you wanted me. You always knew the way to wow me. Fuck around, get tongue-tied, and I turn it on, I make it rowdy. Then carry on, but I'm not hidin', You grabbin' me hard 'cause you know what you found. It's biscuits, it's gravy, babe.” (y/n) hadn't even known that Ghost had been in the training room, too focused on getting rid of the sinking feeling of his heart breaking…he really was a fool, a fool for falling in love with someone who was taken…someone he could never have.

[odocoiileus]

Hi! Could I get some Eddie x Reader angst? Preferably afab/female reader. The angst is up to you!

pairings: eddie munson x afab! reader

warnings: angst to eventual comfort, brief heartbreak and jealousy, usage of curse words, usage of feminine pet names (princess), mentions of dealing, reader has a fear of being abandoned and is an asshole, eddie's also an asshole kind of (less than the reader). reader has symptoms of a personality disorder if you squint.

a/n: sure thing, anon! enjoy this angst. reader is of age.

you were never the most emotionally stable. you had emotions that were more intense than most. anger felt like fire, sadness felt like you were dying, being normal felt like numbness. most of all, you had a horrible, debilitating fear of abandonment. you weren't sure where this stemmed from — your parents were present in your life. nobody major in your life had ever left you.

despite this lack of reason for such a fear, you find yourself practically shaking in eddie's trailer. your hands tremble, your heart beating against your chest painfully. he's talking about one of his customers again, who he seems to talk about all the time. your brows knit together, a whirlwind of emotions taking place inside you. most notably, anger. and right now? you felt like you were being burned alive.

"yeah, I mean, she's awesome! probably one of my favorite customers. always pays more than what I ask, kinda like a tip. great, right, babe?" eddie rambles, taking a moment to look at you sitting on his couch. he notices the disturbed expression on your face and his smug grin drops, hurrying over to sit beside you. "hey..uh, what's up, princess?" he asks, voice as smooth as butter, soft as cotton. he places a warm hand on your shoulder. and normally, you would want to lean into his touch, wouldn't be able to stop yourself from swooning over him. but right now, you can't help but feel your anger build up more, consuming you like a horrible monster.

"her! and you!" you spit out, scowling at him as your anger finally spills out. "all you do is talk about her, eds! I mean, we can't even have a normal fucking conversation without you bringing up how great she is..all she does is smoke!" you didn't know what his obsession with her was about, but there was only one thought in your mind. only one reason. he must like her, he must have a crush on her, he must love her. it's irrational, but right now it makes sense. you feel like clawing your skin off. you're oblivious to the shock and hurt on eddie's face. "you like her, don't you? like, like like her." you accuse, gritting your teeth as tears swell in your eyes.

eddie's puppy dog eyes narrow just slightly, his brows furrowing. his mouth, once agape, is now in a deep frown. "no! I don't like her like that..you know that, you're just being dramatic. stop being so insecure." he scoffs, taking his hand off your shoulder to cross his arms over his chest. you feel as though you've been shot at the 'dramatic' comment. a lump forms in your throat, you suddenly stand up with a bark of sarcastic laughter. "I'm dramatic? fine! since I'm so dramatic, I'm going back to my house! call me when you get over the obsession you have with your customer!" before eddie can say anything else, you're already out of the trailer, slamming the door behind you.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

hours had passed since the argument – the sun had set, the night sky illuminated by the moon. you were curled up in your bed, buried under copious amounts of blankets, wallowing in your pity. you felt horrible, guilty, mostly you felt like an asshole. you were an asshole. it was always like this - after your outbursts, you always felt guilty, but in the moments they happened..you felt like you couldn't control it.

with a heavy sigh, you drag your hands down your face. "great going.." you grumble to yourself. a sudden clonk catches your attention, eyes darting over to your window. there's a second clonk, before you realize that it's a rock hitting your window. oh, god. that could only mean one thing. eddie.

scrambling out of your bed, you open your window and look outside, spotting the brunette. "eddie.." you mumble. the metalhead looks just as sullen as you do, if not worse, as he maneuvers his way onto your roof and to your window. subsequently, you move out of the way so he can crawl into your bedroom. the second he's standing firmly, he wraps his arms around you in a tight hug.

finally, you break the silence. "I..I'm sorry, eds. I shouldn't have acted that way..I..just," you start, voice wavering. your hands find themselves on his chest. "..felt like you like her way more than me or somethin', stupid I know..I'm sorry." you say, feeling the lump form in your throat again. you will yourself not to cry. it proves to be unbelievably difficult once eddie speaks up.

"I'm sorry, princess. I promise you, I don't like her like that..I never would, I got you and you're..totally metal, 'kay? I just got excited since I've never had someone repeatedly come back to buy stuff." eddie speaks, and you're able to pinpoint a small crack in his voice, the way he squeezes you just a bit tighter. "i'd never replace you, never..just..just believe me, okay? I love you. I shouldn't 've called you dramatic." he whispers and you swear his voice shakes like he might also cry. you nod, blinking away tears. "I love you too, eds."

you pull away from the hug to look up at him, heart shattering at the sight of his brown hues glistening with tears. "I'm a total asshole." you huff, forcing out a giggle in hopes it'll lift the mood. you see eddie perk up just a little bit. "..come lay down with me?" you ask hesitantly, a smile appearing on your face when you see eddie's own as he nods.

[bleachification]

a platonic paradox

pairing: grimmjow x reader

warnings: swearing lol thats it

summary: He loves me... he loves me not… he loves me... he... is an emotionally constipated Arrancar with less than desirable social skills and a pension for jealousy. What could possibly go wrong?

One… two… three… four… five shots later, and reality finally starts to blur at the edges. Fuzzier and fuzzier, the strobe lights turn as they cut across blackened space, glowing in feverish haste. 

Maybe drinking on an empty stomach isn’t the greatest of your ideas, but no one’s coined you as a genius thus far, and you certainly never claimed to be one. Plus, you have a valid reason for knocking back a row of tequila: men. Or, more specifically, one man who goes by the name Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez—the bane of your existence and one of your closest friends. However, friend is a term you use very loosely after the earlier fight.

The mere thought of him incites another scowl from you… and a sixth shot that slides down your throat like oil in a car—smooth and familiar. 

You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to face the person on your left—a head of ginger pops into view, only to be pushed aside by a tiny girl with an irritated yet concerned expression pasted onto her delicate features. Inoue only smiles as Rukia takes her spot next to you and inspects the row of shot glasses on the booth table in front of you. 

“You need to stop,” Rukia demands. 

You barely register her words over the thumping bass of the speakers. The club is a swarm of warm bodies, alcohol, pulsing lights, and wall-shaking music. Through the haze and humidity, you make out the DJ standing at the south end of the venue, directly opposite your booth. 

“You worry too much.” You wave your hand, dismissing Rukia. 

She tries prying the drink you just ordered from your hands but fails miserably.

“For good reason! We’re going to have to carry you home at this rate.” 

Orihime pats Rukia on the shoulder in a calming manner. It doesn’t quite work, but she tries anyway. Ever the pacifist. 

“I think Rukia’s trying to say that we’re worried about you. What exactly happened?” 

Ichigo appears from the crowd and slides in next to his fiancé, beer in hand. “Yeah, what’s going on? You called us out without explanation and started drinking like you were on a personal mission to destroy your liver.”

“I can handle my liquor.” You roll your eyes at your friends’ questioning looks. 

“Y/N,” Orihime presses. 

You groan. “Fine! Fine.”

They all wait expectantly as you down another drink. Every shot turns the world one degree mistier. 

“Grimmjow and I got into a fight,” you grit out. The words taste like gravel on your tongue. 

The three of them exchange a look. 

You frown. “What?”

“It’s just… isn’t that pretty common?” Ichigo asks. 

“No. We argue, sure, but today he… went too far. He was being an asshole—more so than usual. You’d think he’d be nicer to the person who acclimated him to human society. Stupid overgrown cat,” you huff. 

“What did he say?” Ichigo takes a swig of his beer. 

You pause. The whole argument that led to this moment was dumb. So dumb that you can’t even remember what instigated it. All you recall is the hurt washing over you at the end—a vile, sickening sensation that festered like rot in your chest because of the words Grimmjow bit out right before you walked out the door: You’re nothing special. 

In hindsight, what he said wasn’t even that awful. Yet it shredded you the moment it left his lips. Perhaps you took it so hard because you thought you were special to him—in the same way he is to you. The irritating reality is Grimmjow has grown to become one of your closest confidantes. Your best friend. To be cast aside like that… to mean nothing of importance to him… is a harsh and gutting revelation—one that sets fire to your throat and incinerates whatever affection you had left for him to absolute ash. 

“Nothing of importance,” you mutter. 

The others don’t pry any further, sensing you no longer want to talk about it. They’d be right; you don’t want to talk about it… you don’t even want to think about it, especially since the earlier alcohol-induced buzz has now morphed into full-on drunk goggles. 

“I’m gonna go dance.” You’re already halfway across the dance floor before Rukia scrambles to catch up with you. 

Orihime slides her attention over to her fiancé. “Uh. Kurosaki?”

Ichigo dials a number into his phone and brings it to his ear. “Already on it.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It is 1:58 am, and Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez has never been more miserable in his entire life. Not when he was a mindless hollow, not even when he lost to Ichigo—that orange-haired freak of nature. 

No. The almighty former Espada has been reduced to a mopey mess by a mere human. And an annoying one at that. 

It’s been almost five hours since Grimmjow last heard from you. Four of them he’s spent trying to convince himself you’d come back soon like you always do—with that gentle smile on your face that he’s grown disgustingly accustomed to. 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 

Grimmjow clenches the phone in his hand and his arm jerks—almost chucking the device at the insufferable clock ticking in the corner. It is a constant reminder that you haven’t returned to him. He only stops himself from throwing the phone once he remembers how much the hunk of metal had cost him. 

Stupid human inventions. 

If it weren’t for the need to constantly message and call you about, well… anything really, Grimmjow would never have spent a cent on the damned thing. 

The phone clatters onto the coffee table as Grimmjow resumes his prior (pitiful) position on the couch: flat on his stomach, face down, and legs draped over the edge. 

Grimmjow frowns—pouts—into the cushions. Twenty minutes pass. Then thirty. Finally, a vibration cuts through the air. 

Someone’s calling him. 

Grimmjow jerks up and unceremoniously falls off the couch in haste to check the notification. His high hopes are immediately dashed when a familiar contact name comes into view: Prick. His shoulders slump, and he lets it ring a couple of times before lazily thumbing the screen to answer the call. 

“The hell do you want?”

“Are you busy?” Ichigo’s voice is barely perceptible amidst the deafening music blaring through the phone’s speakers. 

Grimmjow grimaces, pulling his ear away from the phone, then glances at the coffee table in front of him. A half-melted tub of chocolate ice cream stares back, a mocking reminder of his dramatics grief. Just above the sugary mess sits a large-screen TV—one currently playing a series of films that fit perfectly under the “romantic comedy” genre. 

Grimmjow turns around and faces away from the scene. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“Who do you think I am? Of course, I’m fucking busy.”

“Right… guess I’ll get Y/N home by mys—“

With keys in hand, Grimmjow is already headed out the door when he gruffly cuts Ichigo off. “Address. Now.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Tall, dark, and handsome wraps an arm around your waist as you sway to the suggestive beat. 

Rukia’s long gone. You lost sight of her when the crowd drew you further into the dance floor. You don’t particularly care where the shinigami went—probably back to the booth—as the alcoholic haze clouding your mind bars you from focusing on anything but the gorgeous man next to you. He leans in, clearly interested in something other than dancing, but still asks: “Would you like to dance?”

You study his features. Short black hair sweeps over honey-brown eyes that are shadowed by long lashes. He smirks, showing off a dimple on his left cheek. He’s a looker, for sure. 

Not bad at all, but nowhere near Grimmjow. 

The thought jolts you. Grimmjow has nothing to do with the person beside you. So why is it that every passing second serves as a reminder of him?

You shake those useless thoughts away and plaster a lazy smile on your face. You pull the stranger towards you and wrap your arms around his neck as you move to the beat. He presses up against you, forehead on yours. His lips are millimetres from yours, and his lidded gaze glitters with desire. You welcome it. 

For once, you’re lost to the dizzying heat and drunken thrills of the night, and you’re ready to get lost in the arms of a stranger—someone who, hopefully, will distract you from the man plaguing every dark corner of your mind. 

A tilt of the chin brings you closer to him. He leans in, and you close your eyes, ready for a welcome distraction. But before your lips can meet, the man across from you is harshly yanked back, and a flurry of familiar voices bombards you from all directions. 

You blink twice, trying to take in the scene before you. 

Firstly, Grimmjow is here. He’s clutching so tightly onto your poor dance partner’s shoulder that it’s a miracle his collarbone hasn’t shattered. The guy looks terrified… and for a good reason. Grimmjow is pissed. Hell, even that would be an understatement. An air of rage so heavy you almost mistake it for spiritual pressure ripples off him in waves. His normally cavalier expression is distorted. Gone are his usual smirks or annoyed scowls. In their place sits a mask of absolute crazed, seething fury. If looks could kill, this whole club would be home to a mountain of corpses by now. 

Secondly, the shouts you hear originate from Ichigo and the two girls; all three are trying to push through the crowd to make it to you and the blue-haired psychopath before you. Thanks to the dark atmosphere, overbearing music, and the fact you’re all in an isolated corner of the club, no one else seems to notice the complete disaster unfolding before your eyes. 

Ichigo breaks through the sea of people and immediately hooks his arms under Grimmjow’s. It takes almost all his strength to drag the Arrancar back a metre or two. 

Ichigo struggles to keep Grimmjow at bay. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’ll kill you after I get my hands on him. Fucking let go!” Grimmjow pulls free from Ichigo’s grasp and steps toward the other man. 

That split second snaps you to attention, and you run to block him. In less than a second, you’re in front of the other guy and facing a murderous Grimmjow; arms spread out in a protective stance. You wobble a bit and curse yourself for getting this inebriated. 

Grimmjow freezes. The look in his eyes—a strange mixture of annoyance, hurt, and unfathomable anger—makes you uneasy. 

“What, pray tell, are you doing?” You mentally high-five yourself for not slurring your words. It isn’t easy in your current state. 

Grimmjow scoffs. “You’re actually protecting this guy?”

Said guy peeps up with: “Look, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize you had a partner.”

You turn to him and scrunch your nose. “I am not his partner.”

Grimmjow makes a snarling sound behind you. 

You whip back towards him. “And you. Are you insane?! Why the hell would you do that?”

Grimmjow shifts closer. You have to tilt your head up to glare at him. His breath fans your face as he answers. 

“He put his hands on you. You think I’m just gonna let that shit slide?” He’s speaking low. Rough. Dangerous. 

You open your mouth to retort, only to find yourself dangling upside down from Grimmjow’s shoulder. He just hauled you up like a sack of flour. 

This bastard. 

As if on instinct, you immediately start wiggling in his grasp and thumping on his back, yelling at him to put you down. The struggling only drives him to tighten his hold on you as he marches the two of you out the club doors. 

“Keep doing that, and I’ll drop you.”

Bastard move. 

“Put me down!” You let out a yell in irritation. Grimmjow pretends not to hear you. 

From your peripheral vision, you catch sight of Rukia, followed by the other two, scrambling to catch up. Orihime apologizes profusely to the bouncer at the door for the commotion caused by the man carrying you. 

“Ichigo, help!” 

Ichigo only shakes his head in disappointment as Grimmjow increases his pace. 

Traitor. 

Maybe it’s the liquid courage. Or perhaps it’s because you’ve finally lost it, but you raise a hand and land a hard smack on Grimmjow’s ass. 

He stiffens. “What the f-“

“I’ll do it again if you don’t put me down this instant, you goddamn psychopath,” you warn. 

Instead of complying, he shifts you until you’re being carried in his arms bridal-style. He just cut off your accessibility to his ass. Although you can’t ponder that disappointment for too long, the realization of what he’s about to do dawns on you when he takes a slow step backward. 

“Grimmjow, don’t you dare-“Your own shriek cuts you off as he rips through the air and propels you toward the sky. You can only tighten your hold on his neck and bury your face in his shoulder as biting winds whip around you at the speed of light. Despite the cool night air, Grimmjow is warm to the touch. In less than five seconds, you’re staring at the front door of his apartment. 

The son of a bitch just sonido-ed you across the city. 

Grimmjow finally puts you down as he fishes the keys from his pocket. The whole time he hasn’t said a single word to you. 

“Why are we here?” You reluctantly follow him into the familiar unit. 

He has his back turned to you. Broad shoulders hunch over as he removes his shoes. Three seconds later, he flops onto the couch while running a hand down his face, quietly letting out a sigh of exhaustion and a hint of something else. 

You sit in the spot next to him and pull your legs up. You shift until you’re facing him and only inches away. 

You poke him in the stomach. It’s a habit you have that Grimmjow complains about constantly, but he never actually takes any action to stop it. 

“Hey. Answers. Now,” you interrogate. 

He lazily peeks at you; head still lolled back on the back of the couch. Grimmjow moves and his shifting weight causes you to dip forward. Typically, you’d be able to straighten yourself up. However, drunk you has precisely zero sense of balance, so you topple right into Grimmjow’s lap. 

Grimmjow almost jumps out of his skin at the unexpected contact. You feel your cheeks flame up in embarrassment as you try to push yourself back up, only to lose your balance again and fall back against him. Your face presses up against his stomach, and the heat clouds all your senses. You feel even drunker than before. 

“For fucks sake.” Tired of your struggling, Grimmjow pulls you up until you’re sat in his lap and face-to-face with him. You try to ignore the fact that you’re basically straddling him. You really try to ignore his hands resting on the side of your thighs. The contact causes something within you to flare up—an unsettling feeling you push away to the furthest corner of your mind. 

“Well, this is nice. We’ve reached a new level of friendship now,” you snort. Thankfully, your stable tone doesn’t betray your wavering nerves. 

Grimmjow’s jaw tenses. “Right. Friendship.” 

You almost reel back. He spits that last part out like it is laced with poison. A sting of disappointment shoots through you, and you move to get off him. Right now, you want to be as far away from him as possible in fear of Grimmjow seeing the tears that have begun to prick the back of your eyes. 

If he hates being your friend that badly, then there’s no way he’d ever reciprocate… 

“Hey. You crying?”

To your surprise, Grimmjow grabs you by the hips and pulls you back, caging his huge arms around you to prevent you from escaping. His eyebrows furrow as he leans in to examine your face. You muster up every ounce of willpower to suck the tears back into the confines of your eyelids. 

“You look like a bug,” Grimmjow murmurs. 

You pinch his cheek with a scowl, mind briefly wiped of your previous grievances. 

“Bastard.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “You stopped crying.”

“I never started,” you retort. 

He makes a noncommittal noise. 

“What?”

He grunts, eyes still fixated on your own. “Trying to figure out why you ran away.”

You gape at him. He has to be kidding. Right?

“Okay, first of all, I did not run away; I left because you pissed me off. Second of all, are you serious? 

Your exasperation only fuels his confusion. Grimmjow’s face scrunches, and he tilts his head only slightly, but enough to emphasize how baffled he is by this whole situation. 

You falter. This whole night you have agonized over his words, never once considering that he may not find fault in what he said. Maybe he never intended to hurt you and only meant to state a fact: that you simply don’t mean anything special to him.

Do you occupy such a minuscule part of his heart? Given that he takes up all the space you have to offer in yours, it is an unnecessarily cruel twist of fate.

You steel yourself. Grimmjow is your friend. Nothing less… and certainly nothing more. He has drawn that line very clearly—in bright, irreversible red. 

“Forget it. It’s nothing,” you murmur.

He shoots you a look; he doesn’t believe you. “Oi. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” you insist. 

His eyes narrow, and he slowly drawls your name. Irritation coats the word like honey as he presses you for a different answer. 

With a shake of your head, you cement your refusal to budge. Nothing good could come from that conversation, and you would rather suffer in silence than lose Grimmjow as a friend—which is the only outcome you can fathom. 

“I… it doesn’t matter. Not like you’d care.” The last part is practically inaudible to the human ear. Unfortunately for you, Grimmjow’s senses are anything but human. 

He stiffens, looking like he’d just been slapped hard. “What the fuck are you on about? Who told you that? I’ll kill ‘em.”

“No one told me Grimmjow… no one other than you, at least. It’s obvious you don’t care to be friends anymore,” you scoff and look away, too anxious to meet his eyes. 

Every single muscle of Grimmjow’s goes rigid. You sneak a glance at him and pause at the storm brewing in his gaze. Tides of emotions threaten to overwhelm one another, but at the forefront of the tumultuous battle flashes an intensity you are very familiar with: desperation. 

Grimmjow tips his chin down, lessening the gap between your faces… and lips. What comes out of his mouth next scarcely breaks above a whisper, but the words themselves bear a threatening weight. 

“Obvious to who? Because last time I checked, you’re the only human I ever speak to willingly, the only person whose touch I don’t find repulsive, and the only one who can mouth off to me in my own damn house and not die for it. So tell me, Y/N, who is that obvious to? Because it sure as hell ain’t me,” he snarls. 

You blink. That sobers you up. Any and all words dying in your throat as you take in everything. You only manage to find your voice again after a minute of deliberation. 

“Then why did you say that I wasn’t special? You’re giving me mixed signals here,” you whisper. 

Realization dawns on him like an iron curtain as your response dwindles in the hushed air. He shifts again. This time, switching his grip on your thigh to the curve of your waist. His hands settle firmly, yet gently, on your side, and the warmth resonates through your bloodstream, making it increasingly difficult to focus on the present situation. You try anyway. 

“Is that why you ran away?”

You roll your eyes. “I didn't run.”

He shrugs. “My bad. Is that why you abandoned me?”

For a split second, Grimmjow’s sulking reminds you of a kicked puppy.  A crass, six-foot-one puppy with blue fur and murderous tendencies. Your fingers twitch with an almost overwhelming desire to run them through his hair. You settle for flicking him in the forehead instead. 

“Don’t be so dramatic. You’re acting like I fled the country rather than go to a club ten minutes away.” You absently brush a stray strand of his hair aside, not thinking much of it. Grimmjow, however, sucks in a sharp breath and you pause as a glint of something flits across his gaze… something intimate. 

A trick of the light, surely. 

 “You–” Speech morphs to muffled protests as you press a hand to Grimmjow’s mouth, effectively cutting off whatever he was going to say. 

“You still owe me some answers,” you remark.

“Mmm… to what?” He’s getting sleepier; the lull in his voice is a clear indication. Warmth blooms across your skin as Grimmjow droops forward and nestles his head into the crook of your shoulder, leaning into you as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

“How about why you ruined my perfectly good night out?” You feel his head turn, breath hot like coals against your neck. A chill shoots down your spine at the slight contact, and you ignore the tingling sensation in your stomach that feels an awful lot like butterflies—millions and millions of them. 

He scowls. “What, you’re that upset over not seeing lover boy again?” His arms tighten around you, “You could’ve had a better night with me. Here. Like this.” 

You draw in a sharp breath as his forehead meets yours. Space is a minuscule concept now as his face hovers mere centimetres from yours. Your mind swims with a torrent of mixed feelings and thoughts. 

“Grimmjow…”

“I’m sorry.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“For what I said. I didn’t mean it—any of it. Swear on my life.” His voice is strained, as if not used to the taste of those words on his tongue. 

You want to believe him, truly. But the emotional, irrational side of you forsakes that possibility. 

You’re nothing special. 

The knife in your heart, previously forgotten, now twists again as you recall his words. For a brief second, you wonder if it would be better to feel nothing at all. To bear an empty chest, much like the hollow hole carved into the Arrancars. Perhaps that’s what you need—to lose your heart and live as they do, void of all sensations that make up human nature. 

“It’s fine, Grimmjow. You don’t… experience things like I do. It’s not your fault I got upset over such a trivial matter,” you sigh. 

He pulls back, something akin to guilt and shock shuttering across his handsome face. “So I did hurt you.”

You swallow, unsure how to face this new vulnerability of his. 

“Tell me how to fix this. How to fix us,” he pleads.

“There is no us,” you say. The distance between you and Grimmjow is practically nonexistent, yet you find yourself unable to face him. 

“Bullshit,” he spits. 

You shake your head, a migraine already forming in its center. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Grimmjow. I can never seem to understand what you want!” Your anger rises with each sentence, but you don’t stop and let the emotion fuel you, “I saw us as friends. Best friends. But then you go and act like I’m nothing to you, only to turn around and get all pissy like a fucking cat marking its territory when I dare spend my night with someone who isn’t you. So for the love of god, what do you want from me?!”

“I want you.”

Your head snaps up. “What?”

“Next to me, in my bed in the morning, in my arms. Wherever I am, whenever it is… I want you with me,” he states plainly. Too casual, acting as if he didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on you, wiping every semblance of your anger away with pure, unbridled shock. 

You ignore your racing pulse and focus on the intensity of his gaze instead. “You don’t believe in romance. You told me that.”

“I didn’t believe in many things before I met you.” He presses a searing kiss to the inside of your palm before leaning into it, your touch a familiar comfort. 

“Like what?”

Heaven. Home. Love, probably.

He grunts. “Secret.”

“That’s not fair,” you tease. The hope rising within you gives way to giddiness and a whole new sensation: relief. 

Grimmjow wants you the same way you want him. Perhaps even more so. 

“What’s not fair is being iced out for a whole day while waiting for you, only to witness that thing wrapped around you like some fucking parasite.”

“He was not a parasite.”

“Looked like one to me. Ugly. Small. Easy to step on.”

“You called me a bug earlier. Doesn’t that mean we’re meant to be?” You’re torturing him at this point. It's incredibly amusing. 

Grimmjow’s eyes darken. Two slits of obsidian that burn with jealousy and something else under the surface. Something even more dangerous. 

“Say that again.”

You only laugh. It is a light sound that eases the tension in both the air and Grimmjow’s shoulders. He’s missed your laugh—craves it more than a drowning man would for air. 

After a few seconds longer, he inevitably feels his lips pull upwards into a crooked smile—a special kind that appears solely in your presence. 

Your giggles falter into a faint smile when you notice Grimmjow smirking at you. He absently draws circles on your hip with his fingers, lazily tracing the curve of your back as you ask: “What exactly are we?”

“Dunno,” he half-mumbles, too preoccupied with snuggling into your neck. 

You let out a soft chuckle as his hair tickles your cheek. “Grimmjow.”

He groans, the sound reverberating against the skin of your collarbone—the place his mouth presses against. ”Does it matter? You’re mine. I’m yours. All I care about.”

“This won’t be easy,” you say. 

“Yeah, well, I signed up for you, which is anything but easy. So don’t worry,” he pulls back slightly so that you’re both face to face. “I know exactly what I’m getting myself into. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You barely register Grimmjow’s words before he leans in and roughly kisses you. 

And it is the best damn kiss of your life.