#not an ask but more of a nudge... 👀 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

The Tumblr office adopted Tommy, an 11-year-old Pomeranian.

#not an ask but more of a nudge... 👀

good-beanswrites · 5 months

Note

LCSYS ask again(undercover asker here hiiiiiaufhghghgn)thank you for responding!!!! ilovfe seeing your ideas theyre such good fuel in between trials❤️❤️

i was wondering how th prisoners would react to es’ usage of violence, like some of the younger prisoners complaining about it while the older are concerned because Hello Where did that stem from???? you cant tell me es’ “phew, i feel so much better” after hitting shidou didn’t send his mind racing a million miles per minute

ALSO curious about YONAH………… similar to how red’s violence towards es was scripted, was kotoko’s monologue about es being imperfect Also scripted, or was it on her own? yonah is probably my favourite voice drama of all time and I’m curious about how it would be interpreted in this au 🫶

Ah hello again! Thank you so much for reaching out -- every time I think I've covered everything you guys hit me with a new insane detail that makes my brain go brrrrr >:3

Because OMG I spent so much time thinking of the faked violence, I don't know why I never put as much attention on the flipside! I love the idea of Jackalope assuring them, "there will be no physical punishments. We'll talk about restraints but that's all fake. We'll make up injuries between trials but that's all fake. You don't have to worry about any real pain." And then this 15yo strolls up, interrogation one, ready to smack someone😅😅😅

Seriously though, I think it would come as a pretty big surprise to the group. They knew it was a possibility, but didn't think Es was that likely to attack, since they've made a few comments about being against violent punishments. Haruka comes back to mention the slap, and Yuno follows their instructions and says she also suffered violence, and the group is Shocked. I think it would just kill Fuuta that he wasn't allowed to hit back and avenge the others. He probably has the most complaints about the situation (and is insanely relieved that he get by in his own interrogation.) In a feeble attempt to get back at Es and make them feel bad, he encourages Muu to cry and make a big show about being afraid of them. Muu is frightened enough that it doesn't take much persuasion... I think Kotoko and unfortunately Amane wouldn't mind the threat, they both have lives in which authority showing power isn't out of place (and maybe Haruka?). Mahiru, too, thinks it's just the way a prison guard can run their prison if they want, though she's determined her charm will keep things running pleasantly.

Kazui reaches out asap* to question the legality of the experiment, since they're allowing children to get hit, even if by other children. There's a tangle of signatures and consent from everyone involved so it's okay, but the whole thing still rubs him the wrong way. He knew the experiment was a bit shady, but he(Though, this does make his first vd kind of funny -- instead of actually talking through his theories on the prison, now it feels like he's just egging Es on to see if they'll actually hit him...)

And I really like that idea that Shidou's dad instincts kick in (or maybe it's doctor instincts)! He'd understand if it was a child trying to play the role of an intimidating adult, but the way Es is doing things, the things they're saying, it all points to something deeper going on in Es' head. I can see him sitting down with the others and Jackalope to discuss. Of course Milgram gives him very little to work with, but this still kickstarts everyone's efforts to make sure Es is also taken care of post-Milgram.

*I just realized I'm still a bit fuzzy on communication during the trials. Jackalope can definitely get information to the prisoners (most commonly the 'voices' they're supposed to be hearing based on Es' notes, but also in case of emergency changes or things). I was picturing the prisoners unable to communicate outward until the trial ends, as it builds up the feeling of isolation and imprisonment. The issue is, I feel like Jackalope would want to keep that line open in case the prisoners had questions/issues with the experiment that affected their acting. So idk if the prisoners voice these concerns about Es mid-trial or they're forced to wait. I'll get back to you on that, hm

And Yonah!!

I wasn't avoiding spoilers, I actively looked for snippets here and there, but it was this ask that finally motivated me to sit down and watch it through -- and I'm SO GLAD I DID 👀 It's really well-written and wonderfully acted!! I'm floored with the whole thing omg

I really like the idea that the Milgram team instructed Kotoko to mention Es' imperfection to rattle them a bit, but left the specifics to her. Jackalope thought she'd just make some quick comment, and does a double take when he listens in on the interrogation and realizes she has a lot to say on Es and the way Milgram is run.

Jacklope told her to be harsh with Es, and she thought that was no problem at all. She felt those opinions strongly and wasn't going to go easy on the criticism just because they were a kid. She goes into the interrogation ready to stay completely put-together... and then surprises everyone and herself when Es' distress moves her to pull them into a tight hug and tell them everything's going to be alright ;---;

#milgram #es #ill have to peek back through the material but i definitely remember es saying they dont have to worry about violence #and also openly condemning kotoko and other violent reactions #so the sudden switch would get their gears turning 👀#operation 'save es from whatever crap is going on' begins as early as t1 #more in line with canon than the au but capri had a thorough post about es' attacks and stuff with physical touch -- maybe i go peek at tha #i think theres more angst if the prisoners cant communicate with Anyone during the trials -- theyre completely sealed off #but i feel like it may cause more problems than its worth... but if its just a story i can just write those logistic problems away lol...#thank you for the ask!! i also need fuel between such long breaks of content so it makes me so happy to chat about this :D #and i appreciate the little nudge to watch yonah -- i can def see why its your favorite omg #that last moment i mentioned is SO important to me -- it reveals a huge part of kotoko that i think even she doesnt fully realize ;-;#tw child abuse #yonah spoilers #lights camera sing your sins

31 notes · View notes

octoagentmiles · 1 year

Note

Hi! I love your analysis posts! So, I have a question: What kind of music do you think the Octonauts (And any Octo agents you want to add) would listen to, and what are their favorite song?

merci beaucoup <33 I have very little actual musical "knowledge"; I just like specific songs that go beep bap boop a specific way, but I'll try my best here—and as for their favourite songs, I'll just name some songs that remind me of them, if that's okay 👍

Barnacles likes accordion of course, so he'd probably enjoy anything that incorporates it. I can see him liking most genres tbh, he's not super picky—but he definitely likes folk and classical, and he LOVES sea shanties—almost more than Kwazii 👀

Dear Fellow Traveler - Sea Wolf

Born For Greatness - Papa Roach

AND:

Leaving London

Lost

Ship In A Bottle

Abandon Ship* (*pretend it's Kwazii singing to him)

They're all from an album by Steffan Argus, and you need to listen to them in order because they tell a story, and the whole thing is so Him fr.

See also:

The Last Shanty - Derina Harvey Band

—for some Manitoba!Tweak vibes.

Dashi listens to nightcore. She also got Peso into it. Honestly I feel like the two of them are both into pretty much anything—Dashi has a preference for pop, and Peso definitely likes symphonies, ballads, and anything that's chill and lofi.

Dashi also listens to hard rock and heavy metal in her spare time, and it disorients the heck out of whoever witnesses it randomly come on in her shuffled playlists. However, the only type of music I can't see Peso liking, is really loud music; like rock or metal—so they're the exact same and polar opposites at the same time 😂

I ALSO always think of Dashi when I listen to Marina—no idea why lol—might be her accent 😅

I don't have many songs for either of em- but here's what I've got:

Peso:

Cold Cold Cold - Cage The Elephant

Anxiety Song - Human Petting Zoo

Dashi:

Right Hand Man - Something Rotten

Hermit The Frog - Marina. just vibes once again.

Inkling:

Dude exclusively listens to oldies, classics, and like,,, Beethoven probably, BUT! I feel like any one of the Octonauts could ask him to listen to anything and he would. He unironically enjoys Kwazii's music.

Octopus' Garden - The Beatles

Vegimals:

They all have ridiculously contrasting tastes; they all probably enjoy the same kind of music as their respective Octonaut counterparts—but aside from that, they mostly just make their own music so they can all be happy.

Get Back Up Again but SPECIFICALLY the version from Disney's Trolls. trust me on this.

(some) Agent songs under cut:

Calico Jack me beloved:

I headcanon that he wrote his own theme song, so he likes shanties for sure; but I feel like as the years went by and he grew as a person, his music and general interests toned down a lot—so now he's more into ballads, and very Lord Huron or Hozier-esque music.

(all the following songs are angsty but they also hit HARD ykwim?? aye 👀 /pos)

Never Love An Anchor - The Crane Wives

Farewell Wanderlust - The Amazing Devil

Problems - Mother Mother

Metaphor - The Crane Wives

Flight Of The Crows - Jhariah

(oh look a non-angsty song–)

That's Life - Frank Sinatra

Natquik my beloved²:

Barnacles 100% got his music taste from him, I cannot be told otherwise. That's all I have to say about him.

Constellations - The Oh Hellos

Snow - Ricky Montgomery

December - Ricky Montgomery

New Discovery - The Crane Wives

Runaway - Aurora

plus bonus:

Hand Me My Shovel, I'm Going In - Will Wood

Touch-Tone Telephone - Lemon Demon

—to satisfy my personal "I think Natquik deserves to go feral" needs.

Ranger Marsh my belov–:

Exclusively listens to folk and country, and actively refuses to branch out his horizons.

Cicada Days - Will Wood

Swarm Swamp Swim - Cosmo Sheldrake

Birdhouse In My Soul - They Might Be Giants

Tracker:

On one hand, I really like headcanoning that he likes to sing when he's alone—and is actually pretty good; but on the other hand... I think it'd be hilarious if he had unbelievably bland taste in terms of what he enjoys listening to 😂 He has no real preference, so he just lets whoever he's with control the radio. For their sake.

Hold It In - Jukebox The Ghost

I shall not/cannot explain why that song reminds me of him but it does so much-

and I don't have any more for him, RIP ✌️😔 I could probably find some easily if I looked, but I'm lazy ┐⁠(⁠‘⁠～⁠`⁠;⁠)⁠┌

Paani:

He has weird taste too; but unlike Tracker, he has the most alternative underground music taste you can imagine, and he WILL subject you to it. He eats bugs in a universe of talking bugs, and I think it'd be funny if all of his interests were on the same wavelength lmao. He's just a weirdo (affectionate).

Just like Tracker I probably could find more songs if I actually tried to look—but for now all I have is this:

Water Island - My Singing Monsters

I found it on tiktok and it's literally His Song™ ever fr.

#ask #octonauts #ps every song listed is in my playlist 👀👀👀#wink wink nudge nudge /j #i have so many more songs for each character it was kinda hard only picking a handful 😅😅#really exposing my music taste here ain't i #i will never let paani's bug thing go. they need to explain it one day 😭#until then i'm just gonna continue headcanoning him as a weirdo lmaoo xD #i feel like I've never said the word ''taste'' this many times before #well- ok actually i did make posts abt their favourite foods a while back-#but still hfdfhk it doesn't look like a word anymore 😂#anyways #golistentomyplaylistokbye- (/nf)#long post

33 notes · View notes

norrizzandpia · 5 months

Note

i am Politely Asking for the lando post-race imagine you mentioned 👀👀👀

Your guys’ wish is my command 🤭

All He Needed Was Her (LN4)

Summary: Following the Vegas ‘23 crash, Y/n and Adam find Lando in his hospital bed, yearning for the comfort of his girlfriend’s touch.

Warnings: a panic attack, inferences of death, Lando crashing

Note: that crash was so hard to watch and i still have not recovered

Silence encompassed the space around her, her mind sick with the images of Lando’s crash. What she thought could potentially be his first race win had turned into her worst nightmare as Lando’s car laid smashed against the protecting fences. Her mouth stayed agape as she listened to her boyfriend’s broken “I’m ok,” followed by concerning whimpers and groans. Her eyes frantically searched the room, the faces of his loved ones burned into her brain with their watery eyes and panicked looks. She couldn’t bear the tension within the space, the expressions of the people around her like he had died. The room closed in on her quickly, allowing for no space to breathe or get out of the anxiety filling her lungs. She felt trapped, a panic attack coming on inevitably when she saw the way his hand shook, his arms trying to push himself out of the car yet failing continuously.

She shoved the headset off her ears, shutting out the taunting sounds, before throwing herself into the crowd behind her and pushing them to the side as she tried desperately to claw herself out. She couldn’t turn her head back to see the screens, not even when applauding emitted and a good sign emerged. Y/n reached the door, her hand grasping the handle and hesitating. A large hand grasping her shoulder called her back, willing her to open her eyes and see the survival of her love. When she turned around, her eyes looking up, she was met with the soft look of Adam, Lando’s father.

No matter how comforting he was trying to be, his bloodshot eyes reminded her of the risks her boyfriend took, the chances of him not getting out of that car after a race.

It was too much.

Her heart beat out of her chest and she struggled to find air, her impending anxiety surely, gradually, painfully encroaching her being.

Adam, being familiar with the anxiety attacks his son got, saw the signs, opening the door behind her quickly and shoving her into the empty hallway. His hands landed on her biceps, gripping them as he shook her gently.

“Y/n?” His voice was distant and Y/n wanted to run toward it, however nothing was ever that easy.

He tried again, “Y/n, breathe with me.”

Her mind understood, her lungs expanding shortly as he began to inhale. Tears seeped through the crack of her lips, adding to the drowning she felt she was enduring.

She blubbered and sobbed as she tried to follow his pattern, proving difficult when suffocation seemed probable.

Nevertheless, Adam’s determination triumphed, her mind slowing down as her body caught up.

He looked at her with pity as she came down, his eyes swimming in a certain sympathy she didn’t recognize. This was deeper, he was seeing the pain she was bearing, relating to it because of the exact connection they both nurtured with the boy.

His hands left her arms, stilling at his sides as he began to coax her toward his driver’s room, “How about you rest for a while? That seemed really bad.”

She shook her head immediately, “No, I need to be awake for Lando. What if he needs to go to the hospital?”

Adam closed his eyes as he nudged her into the small room, “Then, I will come wake you. But, for now, he’s going to go to the circuit’s medical center and there’s nothing we can do. It’s best if you allow yourself to relax after that.”

She knew he was right, more so because he sounded exactly like his son. When she had these horrid experiences, Lando was right beside her immediately, gently leading her to any surface where she could lie down. He knew exactly how to make it go away, she never expected to have to do it without him or because of him. He was consistently advocating for her rest after an attack, something that always helped her recover more quickly.

That memory, those habitual instances, persuaded her to give in to Adam’s pleas. He smiled at her as she brought a blanket over her body, Lando’s scent encompassing her body.

“I promise I’ll be back when I have updates.”

She nodded, trusting him like she had for the past few years, “Okay, thank you.”

He closed the door with a nod, the dark haunting her enough to close her eyes and lean into the quiet, peaceful embrace of sleep.

—

She was awoken by shaking, more specifically Adam’s hands shaking her upper body.

“Y/n, wake up.” He whispered, his words guiding her back to the world.

Her eyes fluttered open, “Yeah?”

He seemed stoic, rigid and stressed, something that made Y/n truly wake up, “Lando’s at the hospital. They said we can meet him there.”

She shot up from her laid down position, “What?! The hospital?! Is he okay?!”

His father sighed beside her, getting up and showing how antsy he was to move when he lingered by the door, “I don’t know.”

—

The pair burst through the doors of the hospital, launching themselves at the nurses who sat behind the desk. Their words mixed together as they sputtered out his name, occupation, and situation. This proved to be inefficient because the women looked back at them blankly.

Y/n tried again, “We are here to see Lando Norris. He is a Formula 1 driver and he was involved in an accident.”

It dawns on the employee and her head tilts slightly, “I can’t give out information on him because of his status and occupation. I am sorry. Unless you can prove you are family to him then I can’t give you anything.”

Adam’s hand flew to his pocket, whipping out his wallet and showing her his identification, proving his blood relation to Lando. Y/n watched with a heavy heart as she realized she had nothing to show, she wasn’t family. She was crushed as she realized he would be able to go on to see their boy without her.

When the woman gave him the room number, she gave it to him on paper so as to deter anyone overhearing, he bolted. He was right at the door that led to another hallway when he stopped and turned around, motions for Y/n to follow him.

“I need to see your proof of family relations.” The nurse beside her said expectantly whilst Adam moved back over to the desk.

She shook her head, “I’m his girlfriend. I don’t have proof of blood relations.”

The nurse shrugged, “Then, I’m sorry, I can’t have you go through.”

Y/n opened her mouth to fight back, but Adam interrupted her, “No, she has to. I’ve just shown you I’m his father, take my word for it. Please. My son needs her right now.”

The nurse seemed to be at a crossroads as her gaze flickered between Adam and Y/n. Finally, she nodded curtly and the two were running throughout the building. Down different hallways within the floor, they quickly reached his room. Without thinking, Adam charged in, a strong wave of emotion hitting him when he saw his son wrapped up in a hospital bed.

“Lando,” He sighed, arms falling around Lando’s body as he squeezed him softly, careful with him.

“Hi, dad. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry if I scared you.” He mumbled into his shoulder, hand laying loosely over the back of his father.

Y/n watched from the corner, tears pricking the sides of her eyes at the sight of him. She watched as they pulled back, Lando’s eyes meeting hers and softening with relief before Adam was coughing and excusing himself from the room.

When they were left alone, she walked slowly to him. She stood in front of him for a moment, both individuals taking in the other after the traumatic time apart. When he had had enough of not holding her in his arms, Lando reached out and pulled her closer to his body, arms linking around her hips as he stuffed his face into her chest. She breathed out as her hands tangled in his hair, both of them memorizing the way the other calmed them in such a state.

He clung to her, breathing steady as she whispered sweet, quiet words of love and encouragement to him.

“Sit with me?” He asked with a low volume, pulling back slightly and looking up at her.

She could never say no to his deep green eyes, “Always.”

He shifted to the side as she slid in next to him. She watched the way his eyes lingered over her lap. Chuckling, Y/n sat further against the wall, “Lay your head on my lap, baby.”

He smiled at her brightly, a childlike grin as he shuffled down and set his curly hair over her pants.

A silence passed before she was whispering again, “I love you so much. It was so scary seeing you crash today and I just could not live a life without you. I love you, Lan. You’ve ruined my life for the better. There’s no way I could ever go a day without you.”

He nodded below her, “I can’t either. I kept asking for you when I was at the circuit after the crash, but they kept telling me I couldn’t have any visitors with the impact I had just endured. I was so angry, all I wanted was you. I’ve been like a sitting duck as I stared at the wall and waited for you to arrive. But, now that you’re here, I already feel like I’m getting better. That’s your impact on me. I love you too, love. Being without you for that was worse than the crash itself.”

She looked down at him, leaning over to kiss his temple. When he felt the pressure, he turned his head. She had been pulling back, but got the hint when he looked up at her expectantly. He giggled as she leaned back down, meeting his lips with her own in an intimate, soft kiss.

When they pulled back, she watched his eyes slowly close when she began massaging his scalp and tugging gently at his brown hair. He moaned quietly at the feeling, stroking his hand over her leg as she comforted him with just her presence.

He buried his face further into her lap, breathing her in. By the change of angle, she lost sight of his face, only relying on the monitor to tell her he had fallen asleep when it evened out, reaching a rhythm.

Only then did Adam return, smiling lightly at his sleeping son laying in the lap of his girlfriend. Truly the sweetest sight, he thought, something he would’ve taken a picture of had Y/n been asleep as well.

He sat in the chair beside them, cocking his head at her.

“Thank you.”

The two words caused Y/n’s eyebrows to draw together, confusion etched into her face, “For what?”

Adam sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “For being there for him. Not just now, but all the time. He’s always put everyone else first. He’s always made it the biggest priority to make others feel good when he wasn’t at all. Cisca and I always wished for someone to come along and take care of him right back. Turns out our wishing wasn’t in vain. Here you are and he’s finally understanding what it’s like to be loved that way.”

Y/n stared at him for a moment, eyes averting back to her sleeping boyfriend strewn across her lap, before choking out, “Thank you, Adam. That means the world from you.”

“Just speaking the truth.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair before kicking his legs up toward the end of the bed. He watched her lean her head back, scumming to sleep just like Lando, her hands still buried in his hair.

That was when he took the picture, sending it to the Norris Family group chat, it including Y/n, and assuring the members of Lando’s wellness.

Adam (2:35 AM)

Image Attachment

Adam (2:35 AM)

Lando’s okay! Don’t worry! All he needed was some medication to calm his nerves and Y/n 🧡

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #mclaren formula 1 #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris fic #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris edit #las vegas gp 2023

2K notes · View notes

anantaru · 5 months

Note

Hello Yoru!!<3 I wanted to ask you about your opinion about which Genshin men could eat the reader out the best 👀

~ dresvi.🚀 (Too shy to ask this off anon kdbdskkana)

including. neuvillette, alhaitham

cw. oral (fem! receiving), fem! reader

— ꒰ NEUVILLETTE ꒱

neuvillette was far too close to make this easy for you, reaching right in between your folds so he could nudge and play with the sensitive bolts of your pussy, leaning in to lick roughly at a searing spot that made you wince out in ecstasy, trembling underneath him.

your breathes and moans are much heavier than before, signalizing to neuvillette that he's doing everything right, however, the man believes that he had to do more, add something, before leaving a glimmering tumble of spit on your pussy as he spits on your cunt, a shimmering thread connecting you both from his lips to your folds.

you were moving together like water, your bodies complimenting each other as he gasps and grunts when trapping a bundle of flesh in between his lips before hollowing his cheeks, driving his whole body into making you cum as hard as possible and somehow managing to get better each time, his fingers clutching around your thighs at once so you'd never close them for him.

the friction of his wet muscle was near unbearable but then neuvillette flicks his tongue and digs it past your folds, your hands instantly taking a hold of his hair and messily grinding your cunt all over his lower face.

fuck, oh fuck, you moan and lose control of your body, twitch underneath his bigger one— too far gone to worry about any pathetic sounds keening from the back of your throat.

like a rasping, bottomless gasp, he answers your anticipation to do it again, neuvillette wants to feel you become so addictive to him until you simply cannot go a day without him closed off in between your legs, like neuvillette was damn near dying as he lays into you harder— tongue stroking faster, attacking your gaping hole again and again and again with his mouth, hoping that your smooth skin burned because it feels so good as you spasm against his face with a rough cry of his name, your hand clutching at his hair hard enough to damage the strands.

— ꒰ ALHAITHAM ꒱

by alhaitham's sixth movement, you notice how cold and ruthless it feels whenever he gets down on you, how rough and almost detached he shoves his head in between your thighs and how unmerciful— cruel, in order to have you experience something no one else was able to inflict on you.

it's like he knew your body better than you did, and was aware what spots he had to target to make you cum on his face.

and oh, quite certainly did he know that you're a total mess by now, his hands sweeping across your chest as they're preoccupied by your tits being sensitive underneath his palms.

you moan his name when he flicks his tongue over the hidden pearl and suckles on the flesh as his precise licks shoot a vibration buzzing on your cunt, the faintest trace of his wet muscle touching the edge of your body until you're like putty because of him.

now, you shove yourself up with one arm in order to get a better view on the mess happening in between your legs— tugging on his disheveled hair to roughly press him in your cunt, your ministration strong enough to make the scribe shamelessly groan into your pussy, the underlying burn of your fingers scratching at his scalp making him moan once more.

alhaitham's way of pleasuring you was so indifferent that you're wondering if he's the same boyfriend who'd read to you if you're having trouble sleeping or engages in deep talks in order to understand you better. alas currently, alhaitham has no need for this, because with his fat and heavy cock leaking through the fabric of his pants, he aches to be inside of you.

his hips stuttering into the mattress as he craves for more, more of your scent and more of your arousal slicking up his cheeks and chin— he looks beyond ruined and dirty, capturing your taunting pussy in a filthy-wet kiss as you arch your body off the bed and ride his face, bucking hard beneath two hands keeping you still, inviting anything and everything he did to you with an excited smirk on your mouth.

#genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #neuvillette x you #alhaitham x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #al haitham x reader #al haitham smut

2K notes · View notes

chxrryhansen · 2 months

Text

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐁 𝐀𝐔

Pairing; Dark!Club Owner Ari x Shy!Reader

Warnings; dark themes, unbalanced power dynamic, daddy kink, no smut in this part but as usual Minors Please DNI!!

Summary; You knew it was a bad idea showing up to the most notorious club in the city, but it’s your best friend’s birthday and you can’t say no, right? So, what happens when the owner himself, Ari Levinson, spots you at the bar, claiming you as his own from the moment he laid eyes on you.

It’s finally here! The first instalment of my very first series, apologies for no smut but i promise the next part will be very smutty to make up for it 👀 bare in mind this is just the introduction!!! please don’t be afraid to ask questions and remember to reblog and comment💗 i love to hear your guys feedback!

You climb out of the uber, reaching to pull the hem of your dress down as you and your friends stumble towards the club.

You had finally agreed to try out the biggest club in the city, "Cherry Bomb.” Since it was your best friend Sarah's birthday your group decided it was only fair she could choose which clubs you were going to tour for the night. You had been putting it off ever since the opening night a few months ago, the reputation not being something you had particularly wished to be involved with.

All you knew was bad things happened there, and from what you had heard the owners, Ari Levinson and Lloyd Hansen, two brothers in arms, were so cruel and unforgiving that even the richest men in the city dared not to step foot in the place, and those who did shortly regretted it. Their names were known around the streets, the most notorious club owners to exist, 70% of clubs in the city all belonging to them, more money under their belt than the government itself.

An incident a few weeks back had became the talk of the town, according to Sarah a well known patron had gotten a little handsy with one of the clubs dancers and when he was given a warning to back off, he refused. Claiming he spent enough money in the club grounds to do as he pleased, including groping innocent dancers without permission.

Long story short the bouncers ended up forcibly removing the man, cussing and struggling on his way out of course, you know, the usual druken male rage and feeling of entitlement. Seemed like a pretty convenient coincidense that the exact same night the man was found beaten to a bloody pulp in a back alley, his face practically unrecognisible.

It wasn't long before the 'rumour' was quickly snuffed out. They were good at that, making things.. people, dissapear. Almost as if it never happened... as if they never exhisted.

Now that you were standing infront of it, you couldn't deny, it was beautiful. Even from the outside, the bright neon sign glowing in the moonlight, multiple bouncers blocking the large glass stained doors, making sure to check each persons id before unhooking the stanchion, allowing said persons entry. The queue seeming endless.

Lucky for you, your friends had been gifted VIP tickets, you didn't even bother to ask who they got those from, or how. You didn't want to know. You flashed your id at the pretty bouncer, his buzzed hair, large muscles and stern face making it quite obvious as to why he had the job he did.

You bounced your foot as he scanned over your card before opening the barrier and letting you inside. Sarah was quick to grip each of your hands, practically dragging you inside once you began to hesitate, not wanting you to change your mind so soon.

"Come on, babe, let's get those sweet legs moving!" Sarah hollers from ahead, her hand intertwined with your own as the rest of the girls hurried towards a booth.

"I-I don't know if this is a good idea, Sare.." you mumbled, fiddling with your fingers as she tugged you towards your friends and giving you a slight nudge into the cushioned seats, the red velvet material instantly soothing your hot thighs as you sat.

She reached down, holding your cheeks in both hands and facing you towards herself, sliding into the booth next to you "Listen, i know you're worried and if it makes you feel better i promise we can leave and go somewhere else, but just give it a try, please...for me?" she pleaded, giving you her famous puppy dog eyes.

"You know i can't resist that face." you whined as she cheered.

As you slowly got more drunk you began to forget why you didn't want to visit. The atmosphere was astronomical, the whole club being fit for royalty. The girls hooted and hollered as you trotted off towards the bar on your way to buy in a round of drinks. You waited at the bar with your card in hand but as you went to hand it over to the bartender he paused you.

“It’s on the house.” he says while he wipes down the bar with a rag, a smile on his face. He was handsome in all fairness, standing at around 6'2, his bright blonde locks and pretty blue eyes causing you to pause for a moment before giving him a puzzled look, tilting your head sideways.

“Is it a nightly special or something? I didn’t see anything about free drinks on the poster outside…” you begin yet he’s already scuttling off to take another couples order, shooting you a sly smile over his shoulder. Leaving you even more confused than before.

You slowly reach for the tray of shots when you feel a large hand on your shoulder, causing you to spin around in shock, ready to fight off any unwanted men. You pause yet again, having to look up to catch the mans face.

His 6’5 form towers over your much smaller figure, dressed in a dark purple suit and tie, his pearly blues shining in the colourful strobe lights, looking down at you with a slight smirk. His dark beard covered most of his face and his long curtains framed his godly sculpted face. Even with his suit on his arms bulged through the material, his thick biceps almost bigger than your head.

You shortly snapped out of your daze as his leather gloved hand squeezed your arm. “C-Can i help you, sir?” you stammered, worried incase you had been caught gauking.

He laughs “Not even a thankyou, Sweetheart? I thought you’d have better manners than that.” he teases, his rough voice sending shivers down your spine. You stutter as you try to find your words, seeming as they were lodged in the back of your throat.

“I’m kidding, name’s Ari…you gonna’ give me the curtesy of knowing yours or you just gonna’ keep starin’ at me with those pretty eyes?”

“A-Ari as in… Levinson?” you question, swallowing harshly as the nerves quickly built in your stomach.

He shakes his head gently with a smirk "So you know me, huh?"

Your eyes widen at the realisation of who the mystery man is, your arms instantly beginning to shake, your card still in hand. You were never good at dealing with situations such as this one, always being labled as the 'shy girl' of your group. Sarah being the complete opposite. Usually men in this situation would back off, sensing your uncomfortable trembles and leaving you alone, but not Ari. If anything the smirk on his face grew wider at the sense of your fear.

"Steve, why don't you head over to booth two, give the girls their shots." Ari calls out towards the handsome bartender from earlier.

The man, Steve, is at your side in an instant "No prob man, have fun you two." he winks, collecting the glasses and sauntering off with a wink.

Ari shakes his head with a laugh, “Why don’t you come with me.” he leans down to whisper in your ear. The vibration of his vocals in your ears sending shivers down your spine before he struts forwards, holding out his thick palm for you to grab on to, and almost as if your in a trance, you begin to trail behind him without hesitation. Sliding your smaller palm into his own as he led you through the club.

Your nerves never allowed you to talk much, or make your own decisions, that being the reason you followed the stranger without any question asked, which is exactly why Sare was usually always there to do it for you. But, your drunken confidence had allowed you to go to the bar alone, which you were beginning to really regret. Your confidence being blown out of the park as the attractive beast watched you from infront with a careful eye.

Shortly you arried at the unknown destination, trailing nervously behind Ari as he unlocked a large door, which was infact bolted shut. He pushed open the door, looking down at you, edging you to enter, and so you did. Your eyes lit up as they searched the vast room, expensive furnature lining the room, bottles of champagne worth more than your house filling the cupboards above his desk.

Ari pushed the door closed, moving to sit on a cushioned purple chair, his thick thighs spread wide as he removed his gloves, pouring himself, and you, a glass of his finest drink. His cold eyes beckoned you forwards, your legs shaking as you stepped towards him, standing inbetween his spread legs.

He patted his thigh with one hand "Sit." he called out, his voice sweet yet stern.

You looked at him shocked, your lips parting slightly, were you really going to sit on his lap? A man you just met? Who you didn't even know? "I-I don't think i should Mr Levinson." you whispered.

His eyes grew shades darker at your refusal, not even giving you time to debate your decisions he reached out, gripping your waist in his thick palm and pulling you down, sitting you sideways on his lap as you gasp in shock. His other hand pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear as you squirmed under the pressure.

"Pretty girl, next time i ask you to do something, you do it. No questions asked. You understand?" he asked in a low growl.

You swallowed your nerves and nodded gently under his deep gaze, your body trembling.

"Ah ah, words baby."

"Yes, M-Mr Levinson, I-I understand."

Ari groaned underneath his breath, not understanding how lucky he had gotten that a pretty little thing like you would just waltse right in at the perfect moment, almost as if you were made for him. Like a lamb in a lions den. "As much as i love the way you say my name, call me Ari, sweet girl."

Again, you followed his command. "Yes, Ari."

"Good girl." he rumbled, pulling your bottom lip gently inbetween his index and thumb, loving the way you felt on his lap. Your innocence and submissive nature automatically triggering his dominance, his cock growing hard in his slacks as your plump ass squirmed on his knee.

You keened at his praise, a fluttery feeling appearing in your lower half. Of course Ari noticed this, the way your pussy pulsated on his thigh told him all he needed to know.

"You ever been with a man before, sweetheart?" Ari asks while he strokes your hair, not even having to shout due to the soundproof room blocking out the clubs music.

"Um, n-no i haven't, my Grandma wouldn't really approve of that sort of stuff, she said i should wait till m-marriage." you whisper shyly.

Ari blows out a puff of air at your innocence, desperately trying to control himself. All he wants is to ruin you, in every way you can imagine, and more. He smirks, leaning into your shoulder, pressing his nose against your sensitive neck and taking a deep inhale. Groaning softly, your sweet scent driving his instincts wild.

"Your Grandma seems like a very smart lady, little girl. You live with just her, huh?"

"Yeah, i never really knew my m-mom and dad, and my grandpa died shorly after i was born s-so it's pretty much always just been me and her. She does her best to take care of me, taught me everything i know." you speak with a bright smile, Ari notices how your stutter stopped when talking about her, he thought it was sweet, how much you must care about her.

However, the dark side of his mind was quick to take a seat, the realisation that you never had a father figure making his cock impossibly harder. Knowing he could be that for you, and knowing you needed a strong man like him in your life to make all those decisions for you.

"I think i changed my mind, baby. Why don't you call me daddy from now on, mkay?" he spoke softly, yet the edge in his tone still clear.

"D-Daddy?" you muttered, confused as to why he would want you to call him that.

He moaned hearing your sweet voice call him by his new found title. Taking a deep breath, he sighed, choosing not to elaborate on his previous statement. "Good girl. I'm gonna' take care of you from now on, yeah? Anything you need, you come to me. Pass me your phone, sweet girl."

"Oh, i-i don't have a phone.. daddy."

Ari's eyebrows knit together softly "You don't have a phone? Why not?"

You shake your head, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "We uhm, w-we can't really afford that sort of stuff."

"Well that just won't do." he speaks in a teasing tone, tickling your waist making you giggle softly.

Suddenly a loud bang causes you to shoot upright, you quickly dash off Ari's lap, moving to stand away from him, his office door slamming shut as a tall moustached man enters. Your eyes widen in fright, knowing how violent the man standing infront of you truly was. You knew who he was too, Sare had told you plenty of stories about the cruel Lloyd Hansen. You often wondered if he even had a soul.

"Man it's fuckin' packed down there, what the fuck are you doing up here." the man groans, not even noticing you until he turns. He lifts his sunglasses, staring you down, his eyes scanning over your figure, pausing and licking his lips at the soft flesh beneath the cut of your dress, your pretty pink dress having ridden up your thighs.

"Lloyd." Ari bellows, sighing in annoyance at his disruption.

A smirk similar to Ari's appears on the man, Lloyd's, face. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" he speaks in a sultry voice. He begins his descent in your direction and the second gets a little too close, Ari shoots up out of his seat, moving to stand infront of you. A low rumble vibrating through his chest.

Ari stood slightly taller than Lloyd, with broader shoulders and thicker legs, the muscles in his back visible as he stood infront of you, almost as if he was protecting you, a hand wrapped around your hips rubbing his thumb in circular motions over your dress….and of course the most important detail, his luscious full beard compared to Lloyds 90s porn stache. They stared each other down, asserting some sort of dominance over one another… Ari seemingly winning as Lloyd begins to back up.

He lets out a chuckle, lifting his hands in a surrender position, taking a few steps back. "I mean no harm, just wanna' ask the pretty girl for her name, s'all."

You begin to quiver yet again, Lloyd's presence scaring you back into your shell. His dangerous aura sending goosebumps across your trembling figure. "I-I think i sh-should go." you whisper, tugging at the hem of your dress in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves.

"Don't move, sweets. Lloyd. Get the fuck out of here man." Ari bellows.

“I think you’ll find this club is mine just as much as it is yours, big bro. C’mon. Introduce me to the beauty.” he chucked yet again, probably at Ari’s fury. Steam was practically pouring out of his ears at this point. He didn’t even want Lloyd looking at you, nevermind talking to you.

“I mean it Lloyd get the fuck outta’ here man-“

Before he can stop you, you make a quick dash for the door and at the sound of Ari's resistance your legs carry you quicker than you could've ever imagined. Not looking back once as you pull the door open, swiftly shutting the door behind you.

You take a deep, your chest heaving at the stress of the situation, wiping your sweaty hands on your dress and making your descent down the club stairs, shaking your head in confusion and fear, eager to find your friends, craving their comfort and hearing a hushed "You fuckin' asshole." in the distance.

1K notes · View notes

zepskies · 3 months

Text

Headcanon: Teasing him under the table.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

AN: This was requested by this lovely anon:

Could you please write an imagine or something of all three boys (Dean: love the plus-sized one-shots; Ben from BMD: love your interpretation of The Boys; and Beau) - and how would they react to their girlfriends giving them a footsie? 👀

I'm interpreting this as a "playing footsie" moment lol.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Flirting, innuendo, and some smuttiness. (You know Ben. 🙄)

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to you teasing him under the table.

Dean Winchester

Because of the request, I had the Espresso-verse version of Dean and the reader in mind, but this can be general Dean x Reader too.

Dean is playful by nature. (AKA: a professional flirt.)

He enjoys working you up, but he enjoys it even more when you're confident enough to tease him back...even if it somehow always surprises him.

But he's been driving you crazy all damn day. Throughout the whole damn hunt.

Flirty smiles, suggestive quips masked as "innocent" remarks, brief touches to your arm, the small of your back, guiding you by your hip, a thumb swiping under your shirt and against your skin, lightly pressing into your curves...

It's all "normal," except for the deeper, suggestively teasing glint in his eyes.

He's in a good mood, and he wants you to know it.

And it's all in front of Sam, who knows the game you two are playing. Sometimes he smiles in both amusement and fondness, and he looks away to allow you guys your moment. Sometimes he rolls his eyes, or just tries to ignore it when he's had enough of you two eye-fucking in plain sight.

Dean knows what his touch does to you, but you know one or two of his weaknesses too...

When the hunt is finally over, the three of you find the closest diner to the motel you're staying at.

Dean orders the greasiest burger you've ever seen. He also teases Sam for already looking for the next case with his laptop at the table.

Dean glances over, his lips starting to curve as he licks a bit of burger juice off his fingers. He looks at you dead in the eyes while he sucks his digits clean.

He's equal parts noisy and disgusting. But damn him, your hand tightens around your glass of water. Your lips press together, and so do your legs. You nudge his foot with your boot and raise your brows. Stop it.

He pouts, and he nudges your foot right back. Make me.

You tilt your head at him. Adopting a certain smile, you slide your foot across the floor, under the table, and graze his calf with the side of your boot.

Dean's lips twitch. Sam is seemingly oblivious as he continues researching on his laptop.

Your foot travels higher up Dean's leg, up the inside of his thigh. You only gasp a little when he suddenly reaches down and grabs your ankle. His resulting smirk is salacious, even as he challenges you with his eyes. What're you gonna do now?

You contemplate exactly that, when his brother's voice startles you.

"Can you guys do me a favor and quit it?" Sam asks. He doesn't even look up from his laptop. "At least wait until we get home."

You bite your lip and blush. Both you and Dean fight harder smiles at being caught.

"No one likes a killjoy, Sammy," Dean remarks. Sam just sends his brother a dry look.

Dean's amusement remains. He taps on your ankle in contemplation, but after a moment, he lets you go. He grabs his phone and texts you under the table.

"Quickie out back?"

You grimace, then you text him back.

"Gross, babe. There are things I promised myself I'd never do in a public bathroom."

"So...meet you in 5? Come on, I'll do that thing you like. 😈"

His stupid grin, his stupid face, his long fingers tapping on the tabletop (somehow, even that is suggestive). It all eventually breaks you down.

"...Ugh, fine," you reply. You slide out of your chair first. But as you walk past him, you let your fingers brush down his neck — in a way that always makes a little shiver run down his spine. You smirk in satisfaction as you walk away.

He might've started it, but you could damn well finish it.

Beau Arlen

Oh, my dear cowboy sheriff...

Beau is also a jokester. He takes his work and the people in his life seriously, but he likes to keep things "loose." Perhaps it's a coping mechanism, but it's mostly just his way of going through life.

Tonight, however, is a tense dinner with your parents, Beau, Emily, and his parents that are visiting from Houston.

It's a nice steakhouse, more high scale than you or Beau are used to, but your parents insisted on it. Beau's parents are good-natured and full of southern charm. They're just happy to see their son and granddaughter, let alone meet his girlfriend for the first time.

The night is only tense because, as much as you love your parents, they're not sure about you dating a man with such a dangerous job.

They also have a thing about appearances, and the fact that he's divorced and has a child who isn't yours, and frankly, all the things you don't give a rat's ass about.

Your back is ramrod straight in your chair (there's a tightness in your spine that comes every time your mom taps you on the hand with her fork to remind you not to slouch).

You can't even really taste what you're eating, because you're too focused on making sure your parents don't say anything insulting to Beau and his family.

Then a boot taps against your open-toed heel. You glance over at your boyfriend, and he's already wearing a smile. He gives you a teasing wink as he eats a forkful of mashed potatoes.

Your stress begins to melt, just like that. God, this man.

You smile back at him and take a calming sip of wine. Your mom begins to talk about her upcoming tupperware party. Your smile deepens, but not because of that.

You playfully tap your foot on Beau's without looking at him.

You feel his discreet stare on the side of your face, but you pretend to be invested in your mom's conversation about tupperware. (I mean really, I thought those parties went extinct. Apparently, not in the Midwest.)

Beau's foot nudges yours back. You hook your toes under the hem of his pant leg, inching it up and up...

He retaliates with a hand drifting down your thigh, over the skirt of your dress. He grabs just above your knee and squeezes. Your leg jerks up on reflex, and your knee hits under the table hard enough to rattle the silverware, making you yelp.

The whole table looks over at you in both surprise and concern. (Your mother more in disapproval.)

Beau bites his lip against a deeper smile.

"You okay there, baby?" he asks.

"Sorry, my foot slipped," you lie through a tight smile. When you turn to him, your eyes narrow a fraction, promising retribution. You grab his hand tightly, but he just uses the motion to bring yours up to his lips.

Beau looks forward to whatever you plan to dish out next, as long as you wait until after dessert.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Aw hell, this guy. 😂 I'm imagining BMD-verse Ben for this one...

Ben has a decent sense of humor, but he doesn't often like to be teased.

He'd rather be respected.

But you love to tease him anyway.

You also know his "limits," but it doesn't stop you from figuratively tap dancing all over them when you have the opportunity. You're slowly but surely trying to get him to loosen up.

Sometimes though, it bites you in the ass.

Like tonight, when you've gotten him to come with you to a Broadway show. You two have your own private booth on the second floor balcony. (He likes the privacy, and it's safer for you, as he's argued.)

20 minutes in, and you can already tell he's gotten bored. To be fair, it's a drama that's admittedly a bit dry and slow. You don't want him to walk out before the intermission, so you start to hatch an idea...

Your legs are crossed, and you draw your high-heel slowly against the side of his foot. When he glances over you, you pretend to be invested in the show. Your arms are crossed over your black dress that falls to mid-thigh. Your jacket is draped across your lap.

You brush the thin point of your heel across the top of his shoe, then inch it up under his pant leg, higher and higher.

Until Ben's hand finally grabs hold of your knee. Biting your lip, you turn to him with a smile.

"Do you mind? I'm watching the show," you tell him. He allows you to peel his hand of your leg and place it back in his lap. You cross your legs in the opposite direction.

Ben raises his brows. His lips twitch slightly, but he seems to acquiesce, relaxing back in his seat.

For a while, you actually watch the play. You become invested in the story and the characters by the time it gets halfway through Act 1.

That's when you feel a strong hand slowly slip down your thigh and between your legs, slowly rucking up the skirt of your dress.

You try to stifle a gasp as you look over at Ben. He doesn't meet your hot stare, but his hand is certainly on the move, covered by your jacket. He brushes against your panties.

Against your better judgment, you let him spread your legs wider. A smile finally crosses his face. His fingers hook around your underwear and brush between your folds. You let out a shaky breath and shift in your seat.

You know you should stop him, but you can't help the warm coil of arousal starting pool in your lower belly, and between your legs. Ben feels it with a smirk. His fingers find your clit with ease.

"Ben," you gasp, warning him in a heated whisper.

He leans over and presses a raspy kiss to your neck, thanks to his beard.

"Perks of a private room," he says. His voice is a low rumble in your ear.

You start to shake your head. You know you started this, but you also know him. This has the potential to go off the rails very quickly.

"This isn't a room. We're on a damn balcony," you breathe out, even as his fingers continue to work you over. You bite your lip to stifle a moan. "Anyone could—"

"Who gives a fuck?" Ben says gruffly.

As usual, his raunchy brand of logic (and his talented hands) manage to persuade you to give in.

AN: lol I had fun with this one. Let me know what you think! 💜

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean, Beau + SB Tag List (Part 1)

@melancholictearz @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman

@iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup

@jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @emily-winchester @tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105 @liuope @beautyvaliant @xxlaynaxx @beskarfilms @tmb510 @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @lacilou @jackles010378 @waywardxwords @mrsjenniferwinchester

593 notes · View notes

samandcolbyownme · 4 months

Text

Summary: anon request - "HEAR ME OUT... dealer!colby x reader👀? (colby's her weed dealer..?)"

Warnings: SMUT18+, dealer!Colby, strong language, mentions of weed, smoking, driving while under the influence (please don't ever do that), sex as payment, teasing, heavy flirting, hair pulling, oral (f rec), slight squirting, rough unprotected sex, biting, creampie, nasty filth - this is your second warning :)

Word Count: 5.3k | not really edited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

You exhaled the smoke with a sigh, "We're almost out." You looked around the group and they all groan.

Sam takes the half smoked blunt from your hands and nudges you as he takes a drag, "Why don't you call up that dealer of yours, y/n."

Your eyes go wide, "Sam. Don't."

"Oh come on." He passes the blunt to Jake and looks back at you, "Why not?" You roll your eyes, "Because.. it's not like that."

"What it like then?" Jake asks leaning around Sam, smirking at you as the smoke leaves his lips, "You can't fall for your drug dealer. Nothing good ever comes out of that."

"Nothing is going to come out of it because I don't like him like that." You cross your arms, leaning back in your chair, "But I do like weed, and he's the only one who ever seems to have so.."

You pull your phone out, clicking on the name.

Colby Brock.

Hey, it's y/n.

You rest your phone in your lap, sighing as you look up, waiting for an answer, "Is one of you sober enough to drive?"

They all laugh and Sam looks at you, "I can drive you."

"No you can't." You laugh and watch as he stands up, "What are you doing, Golbach?"

"I'll put on a full sobriety test for you right now." He laughs and the group cheers him on. You roll your eyes, picking up your phone when it vibrates.

I know who you are. Whatcha lookin for?

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, zoning out as you focus on texting Colby back.

I think you know exactly what I'm looking for. I have some friends over tonight.

You see the text bubbles pop up instantly and you try not to show that this excites you.

You have friends over and didn't invite me? Ouch.

You laugh slightly, sighing as you type.

I didn't think you'd want to hang out with me.

You rest your phone down, looking up to see Sam balancing on one of the patio loungers, "Sam. Get down before you break your neck or something."

He laughs and jumps down, "Are we a go?"

"Not yet. He hasn't said if he's home or not." You check your phone, nothing, so you set it back down, kinda irritated with yourself.

"Drug dealers are always home, y/n." Jake laughs and you shrug, "Not mine. He has a life outside of his business."

"And how would you know that?" Jake raises his brows, smirking slightly and you change your answer, "I don't.. I'm just saying he might."

"Uh huh. Sure."

Your phone vibrates and you look down, nodding as you read the text.

I'm just pickin, y/n. Of course you can come over, just let me know when you're on your way.

"We're good." You look back down and type.

I'll be there soon.

"Alright. See you guys in a few." Sam grabs his keys and you roll your eyes, "Don't break anything while I'm gone."

They all laugh and wave you off as you walk out the gate with Sam, "Are you good to drive?" He looks back at you, "Y/n. If I didn't think I could, I wouldn't have offered."

"Alright." You sigh, giving in just because you wanted to see Colby. You get in, buckling up before punching in the address to Sam's car gps.

"You have that memorized?" He laughs and you nod, "I've been there enough to know." You laugh and he starts driving, glancing over at you once you reach the first red light, "Are you guys hooking up?"

You snort, "Oh my god, Sam. No. He's my weed dealer."

"Yeah, I'm aware of that. But you seem very excited to go see him." Sam starts driving and you shake your head, "I'm not excited to see him, I'm excited to get more weed."

That's a lie. A complete lie. You liked being around Colby. He seemed to like you, and although you weren't sure if it was so you'd keep coming back to buy from him or what, you liked it.

And it works because you go back to him.

And only him.

"I just don't need you getting caught up in his more than weed bullshit." Sam pulls up from your thoughts and you sigh, "From what I know.." you look at him, "Which isn't much.. he only sells weed. Maybe coke? I don't know. I don't ask."

"He has good weed, I'll give him that." Sam chuckles and you nod, "He really does." You giggle and point, "Pull up behind that car."

"Is that his car?" Sam nods towards the blacked out Mercedes and you nod, "I don't know, this is a richy neighborhood so, not sure."

It was definitely his car. You've seen him get out of it one time when you got here too early.

"It's nice, whoever it belongs to." Sam looks over at you, "Text me if you need anything." You smile, "I'll be fine, Sam." You open the door, "I'll be right back."

You get out, making your way through the small alley between the houses and walk up to the back door. It always shocks you that Colby lives in a regular looking house. It's a nice, very rich looking house, but you always pinned him with having a penthouse suite with smoke filling all the rooms and parties every weekend.

But to you, that was just the drug dealer stereotype.

Colby was.. different.

You knock and wait a few seconds before the door opens. You look up, smiling at Colby through the screen door, "Hey."

He pushes the door open and nods for you to come in, "What's up?" He watches you walk by him, checking behind you to make sure no one else is with.

"Not much, really." You stop, turning towards him. He shuts the door, locking it before turning towards you, "Nothing at all?" He chuckles and you shake your head, "Same old, you know."

You laugh slightly and he nods, "I gotta admit, I was kinda shocked to see you texted me with your name."

"I thought you didn't save the numbers of your customers so.." you shrug and he smirks, "not the ones I don't like seeing."

Your heart skips a beat and you smile, "Well thanks." You try to play it cool, you don't want to seem too excited.

"How much are we looking at getting, today Miss y/n?" Colby walks in to his living room, you following behind him, "Um.. I have like six people at my house right now so enough to get me through tonight yet."

"Oh so you can text me and come back tomorrow for more?" He winks and looks down at his stash.

Maybe it was the pot you smoked before, but you felt a weird wave of confidence wash over you, "You're catching onto my tactic, Colbs. Gonna have to switch it up soon."

He looks up at you, a huge smile resting on his face, "I knew it."

"Knew what?" You ask walking over and sitting down in the chair. He shrugs, "You tell me." You lean back, crossing your leg over the other, "Tell you what?"

He leans back as he ties the bag closed, "That I'm your favorite dealer and you can't help but stay away from me."

"You're my only dealer and well.." you smirk as you shrug and tilt your head, "You're not, fully, wrong."

"What am I wrong about then?" He tosses the bag on the table and leans back, "Why don't you enlighten me?"

You remembered that Sam is in the car waiting, "maybe.." you stand up, pulling money from your pocket, "When I see you next, yeah?" You toss the money on the table and reach down to grab the baggie but Colby snatches it away before you can get it in your grasp.

You tilt your head up slightly, looking at him through your lashes, "Is that not enough?"

"Oh no, it's plenty." He leans back, legs spread as his hands rests on his thighs, "you always have to leave so soon, don't you?"

You tilt your head, standing up slowly, "I have a friend waiting for me in the car."

"Oh do ya?" He tisks his tongue, "What a shame."

"Why do you say that?" You lick your lips, crossing your arms as you watch him look up at you. He shrugs, rolling the bag in his fingers, "maybe.. I'll tell you when I see you next, yeah?"

You smirk as he uses your words against you, "Tomorrow?"

He raises his eyebrows, "Yeah. Yeah." He hands you the bag and you gently take it from his open hand, "I'll text you tomorrow. If I'm free, you know." He chuckles and you roll your eyes, "Uh huh."

You smirk as you shove the bag into your jacket pocket, "I'll be free, so.." you purse your lips, "I have to get back to my friends."

"Oh yeah, the party I wasn't invited to." He smirks as he stands up and you point to the door, "Wanna follow us back over?"

He shakes his head, "Nah, I'm not really into group things." He chuckles and you scoff, a laugh quickly following behind, "oh, god. Colby. it's not.. a group thing if that's what you mean."

He shrugs, "You never know." His eyes scan over your face and he bites his lip, letting it pull slowly between his teeth, "Don't wanna keep your friend waiting any longer, right?"

As much as you wanted to say fuck it, and let Sam sit, you had enough respect for him to not do that, "Yeah.. I guess you're right."

You nod to Colby, "Thank you. Again."

He smiles, "I'm always here." He winks and you turn to walk out the door, moving around the banister to walk down the ally.

You speed up your walk to the car and open the door, plopping in with a smile.

"Take it that it went good?" Sam asks with a laugh and you look at him, "Yeah. It always does." You try to play it down, but you can't help but to think about the flirting that just went down.

Colby has an effect on you and you like it.

A lot.

"So what.. you guys get a quickie in or wh-"

"Sam!" You scoff, "Oh my god." You try to fight off your smile, "I wish. But no."

"Gross. That's - no. I didn't need to hear that." Sam pretends to gag as he starts driving, "But on a serious note.." he glances over at you and you know a lecture is in the works.

"What's the serious note, Sam?" You shift slightly and look over at him as you rest your elbow on the door, "If you're going to tell me that Jake was right, and that nothing good ever comes from seeing your dealer.. I know.. and that's why I haven't jumped his bones yet."

He raises his brows, looking over at you quickly before looking back to the road, "Yeah.. I mean.. yeah.." he laughs slightly, "That's what I was going to say."

You laugh, "Colby flirts with me.. yes. But I think that he does that with all of his other female customers. You know, so they keep coming back to him." You shrug, "he's very nice looking, I'll be honest, and yes. I would like to, you know.."

Sam cringes and shakes his head slightly, "uh huh."

"But if I did that, and it blew up, I'd have to find another dealer or I'd quit smoking all together."

Sam looks at you shocked, "You'd.. quit smoking over a guy?" He snorts, "Really?"

You sigh, "Okay. No. Probably not. That's a bit drastic." You laugh, "Kind of. I don't know. I'd just.. i don't know, you have a dealer so you'd be the one we go to."

"Colby has good shit. So in my own.. selfish needs.. please don't blow this." Sam smirks, "Plus.. how do you know he's worth all the hype you tell yourself?"

You shrug, "hard to explain. Maybe you can come in with me next time and see for yourself."

"I'm fine in the car." He says quickly, "I don't need to be doused in all the sexual tension you say there is."

"Good choice." You laugh and watch out the window as he drives you both back to your house.

You knew it was there. As soon as your eyes meet his you get this feeling in the pit of your stomach but the advice, if that's what you want to call it, that Sam and Jake tell you steer you away because you were kind of afraid of rejection.

Especially from Colby.

He's hot. Mysterious, and kinda dangerous.

But that turned you on. Made you want him even more. Even if it was just for one night.

You needed to have him. There was this.. hunger, inside of you that wanted him and only him. No matter the cost because you knew in your heart he wanted you, too.

And you were determined to get him. No matter what anyone said to try and steer you away.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

The sun shining through your open blinds makes you groan as you roll away to try and avoid it. You took a deep breath, yawning as you sit up.

You take a minute, thinking about the smoke session from last night. Laughing to yourself as you remember all the funny stuff that was said and done.

You bite down on your lip as you remember going to get more weed from Colby. How he flirted with you effortlessly, and how you flirted with him.

You grab your phone, checking to see if he messaged you.

And he did.

Did you go through all of it yet?

That was sent at four thirty two this morning. Right after you decided to call it a night and head to bed.

You mentally curse yourself, mad at yourself because you could have been talking to him. But that's alright, it gives you a chance to take a sober minute and actually think about how you wanted to play this game.

You bite down on your lip as your thumbs pluck the keyboard.

Not all of it, but it definitely won't be enough to last me.

You set your phone down on the bed as you stand up, walking over to grab a change of clothes. You grab your phone before heading to the shower.

As you turn the shower on, you hear your phone buzz, but you don't jump. You get in the shower, closing the door and try not to overthink everything.

Colby does want you, but he won't tell you that. You don't know it, but he has rules. He doesn't hook up with customers, but he has a hard time with you.

As you get out, you wrap a towel around your body and swipe the steam from the mirror away with your hand. You stare at yourself, thinking about the only thing that's really been on your mind lately.

You tap your phone, leaning forward so it'll unlock and your eyes scan over Colby's texts.

You know where to find me. I'll be around today, if you wanted to bang.

I mean hang. Or whatever. lol

Your stomach flips. Or whatever. You bite your thumb nail, sighing to calm your excitement.

I just got out of the shower. I can get dressed and come over?

You walk back over to your room, tossing the original pick of clothes to the floor as you look for something a little more - intriguing.

Your phone buzzes on your dresser and you pick it up. Smirking as you read his response.

Let me know when you're on your way. I'll leave the door unlocked for you.

You smile, texting back a simple, sounds good, before you go back to scouring your closet.

You opt for a simple, yet like you wanted, intriguing look. A pair of black ripped skinny jeans. A cropped white tank top along with cropped dark jean jacket, and black ankle boots.

You finished getting ready and picked up your phone, hands kinda shaking nervously as you type your, I'm ready. Leaving soon, message to Colby.

You grab your bag, making sure you have everything before walking to your car. You take a deep breath, looking at your phone as you read over Colby's text.

Great. See you soon, y/n.

Your heart skips a beat as you put the car in reverse, backing out of your driveway.

You were sober.

Your thoughts about Colby were still clear, and most definitely there.

As you drive over, your fingers tap the steering wheel, anxiously trying to keep the scenarios out of your mind because you don't want to get your hopes up completely.

You pull up behind his car, parking and shutting the engine off. You grab your phone, I'm here. I'll come to the back.

You get out, pulling your bag onto your shoulder and shutting your door. You force yourself to walk, calmly to the back because your excitement was racing sky high.

You honestly didn't know what to expect.

As you walk up the steps, the door opens and Colby pushes the screen door open, "Hello again." You look up, flashing him a smile as you walk by him, "Hey."

He shuts the doors, walking by you to lead you into the living room, "Sleep good?"

You laugh slightly, setting your bag down with a nod, "Oh yeah. I couldn't get them to leave, I was falling asleep before even making it up to my bed."

Colby chuckles, leaning back against the couch, "I would have just went to bed."

"I didn't want to leave them unsupervised." You laugh and sit down, crossing your leg over the other, "I didn't have anything specific planned today, so sleeping in was alright."

"Seemed to work out pretty good." Colby smiles and points, "You wanna.." he trails off watching as you look from him to the tray on the table. You nod, "Please."

You shift through your bag, "fuck." You plop your hand on your bag, looking up at him, "I don't have my wallet."

He furrows his brows, "You.. want to pay me for the joint I offered you?"

You laugh slightly, "No - ah, I mean I was going to see if I could get more but I do-"

He cuts you off, "I'm sure we can come up with a payment arrangement. No worries, sweetheart."

You slowly pull your bag off your lap, plopping it back in the floor, "I'm sure we can."

He smirks as he twists the end of the joint, "Just a heads up, I have like two people coming today, not sure when, though."

You nod, "That's fine."

He lights up the joint, taking a drag. He holds the smoke in as he looks at you. He exhales, "Come on. I don't bite." He smirks as he holds the joint out infront of him.

You smirk, getting up to move next to him and he places the joint in between your lips, "Unless you want me to."

You take a drag, eyes staying locked on his. You pull it from your lips, smiling as you inhale deep. You blow the smoke out, "Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Oh, so you like being bitten?" His brow twitches and you shrug, "Depends on the person, I guess."

He nods, taking the joint from your fingers, "I see." He leans back next to you, picking up his phone from the arm rest of the couch, "Taylor will be here in five."

Your eyes scan over his screen and you can definitely tell it's a girl because on her end, the texts are flirty and cute.

But you can't help but smirk when you see his one to three word responses.

Colby looks at you, smirking, "You know.. I broke my rules for you."

Your eyes snap up to his, "Rules?"

He nods, "Rules. Yes."

You turn towards him, the weed relaxing you enough to egg him on, "Do tell, Mr. Brock."

He chuckles, taking a drag of the joint before handing it to you, "I don't invite people over." He watches you take a drag and his teeth hold his bottom lip, "Especially girls."

"Then why am I here?" You lean forward, taking the joint from his fingers and lean back, slipping the end between your lips and dragging.

Colby stares at you for a few seconds before smirking, "Because I think.." he leans in, eyes on yours, "..you like doing bad things.. with bad boys."

Before you exhale, he slides his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you in just enough for your lips to brush his.

He inhales the smoke as you exhale.

You watch him leans back, smirking as he blows the smoke out, "am I right?"

You shrug, "I wouldn't say.. boys." You smirk, "There's only one, in particular.. and I just so happen to be doing something bad with him.. right now."

"I keep it short with the female customer side. I don't want anyone thinking anything, taking it the wrong way, ya know?" He ashes the joint and sets it down, "But you.."

"My friends.. would tease me about having a crush on you.. but I knew I was right." You cross your arms and shake your head slightly, "I was right."

"Right about what?" He smirks, resting his ankle on his knee, "I'm all ears."

You move closer to him, "There was no shortness." You lick your lips, looking up at him, "There was flirting."

"There sure was." Colby nods with a smirk, "I tried not to. The first couple of times you started coming to me. I did try. But I just couldn't help it."

As you go to lean in, a knock on the door cuts the interaction short.

"Fucking hell." Colby curses, "Why now?"

"It's fine. My only plans today are being here." You smirk and lean back as he stands up. He glances down at you, "Feel free to roll another one if you want."

You nod, smiling as you reach forward to do just as he says. You glance up, watching as the blonde walks through the door, "Hi Colby. Sorry I'm late. The traffic was awful." She smiles and he nods, "How much are you here for?"

You smirk, looking down as he gets right to the point.

"My usual." She giggles, "Colby you should know this by now."

He walks in, "An eighth? A quarter? Your order changes every time, Taylor.." He walks around, sitting down next to you as she stands on the other side of the coffee table, mumbling an almost audible, "Eighth."

You glance up at her, fighting a smirk as you notice her whole demeanor changed since she seen you, "Hey." You tilt your head, flashing her a smile as you twist the end of the cone.

She rolls her eyes, "Yeah, hi." She looks at Colby, "I was wondering if I could do half the payment now then the oth-"

Colby cuts her off with a hard, "No." He chuckles, shaking his head as he bags up the weed, "I don't do that half payment now, other half later bullshit. You know that."

"Are you sure because I can definitely give it to you Friday." She twirls her hair, trying to gain his attention back onto her.

He looks up at her, "It's full payment now or nothing, Taylor." He shrugs, "I don't know who told you I do payment plans, but you need to tell them that they're sadly mistaken."

You lean back, covering your smirk by holding the joint between your lips and lighting it.

"Yeah, I'll definitely tell them." she pulls money out of her back pocket. Colby reaches out for it, but she misses his hand, purposely, and drops it on the table, "That enough?"

He picks it up, counting it, "Sure is. Enjoy." He goes to hand her the bag, but misses her hand, on purpose of course.

She scoffs, "Is this really how you're going to treat me?"

"You get what you give, Taylor. Maybe next time come in here with some respect." Colby stares up at her until she sighs, "Fine."

She bends down, grabbing the bag and walking away. Colby reaches over, plucking the joint from your hand as he yells a sarcastic, "Have a great day."

You giggle, "That was so mean."

He chuckles, "She wasn't going to disrespect me. I won't allow it."

"Yeah, it took all I had to tell her to stop being a bitch." You watch as he takes a drag and exhales, "I would have loved to see it."

"Maybe next time." You wink as you smile, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him take another drag.

"So.." he passes you the joint after ashing it, "Where were we?"

You take a drag, holding it in as you tilt your head. You exhale, "I think..." you move closer, "I was about to kiss you."

"I like where this is going." He brushes hair from your face, moving it behind your shoulder, "I think we have some time before the last person shows up.. so.."

You set the joint in the ash tray and move to straddle him. His hands slip into the back pockets of your jeans and give your ass a squeeze. Your eyes scan over his face, locking eyes with his slightly red and blue ones before you dip your head down and lock lips with his.

He groans against you, pulling you closer and you feel the hard bulge of his jeans grind against you.

Your hands move to his hair, tugging slightly as his lips move down your neck. You let out a gasp as you feel him bite down gently.

Your hips move slowly as you feel him mark your neck, "Colby." You whimper quietly, "P-please."

"How bad do you want me, baby?" He leans back, looking up at you and you smirk, "About as bad as you want me."

He smiles, nodding, "You know that's a lot, right?"

You nod, "That's how much I want you."

He stands up, your legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck. He walks you back the hall and into his room. He kicks the door shut before walking you over and your back meets the bed.

You sit up slightly, watching as he slips his black t-shirt off, revealing his very fit figure, "Fuck."

He smirks, "Let's see you do that too."

You smirk and sit up, kicking off your boots as you slip off your jacket and toss it, your tank following right behind.

"Shit." Colby whispers as he moves to lay his body over yours. He kisses your lips, moving down your neck and chest. He stops at your boob, taking your nipple in his mouth.

You moan, back arching as he sucks and flicks it with his tongue. Your hand lays on his head, curling his hair around your fingers, "Fuck, yes."

You look down at him and he looks up at you, popping off as he kisses down your torso. Your body jolts as his kisses slightly tickle, but your eyes watch as his hands undo your jeans.

You press your hands into the bed as you lift your hips to allow him to slip off both your jeans and panties in one swoop fell swoop.

He pushes your thighs apart, not giving you a second to process as he drops to his knees and pulls you to the edge of the bed.

He licks his lips before leaning in, attaching them to your clit. You gasp, arching your back as your brows furrow with the scrunch of your face, "S-shit. Yes."

He moans against you, moving his head down to slip his tongue into you. His hands grip your hips, pinning them down as he focuses on the taste of you.

He leans back, eyes locking on yours as your chest rises and falls quickly, "You taste better than I ever thought of."

You smile, biting your lip as you watch him lean back in. Two of his fingers drag up your thigh before they're brought to your center, rubbing gently before slipping inside.

You moan, clenching around him as he thrusts his fingers in and out slowly. His lips trail up your inner thigh, watching as you twist and turn as your orgasm builds up.

“You gonna cum for me?” His voice is low and you nod, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Cum for me, baby. Come on.” His words bring you closer, “You look so pretty when you’re like this. On the verge of snapping.”

You let out a moan as you feel your body tense up and jolt. Liquid leaks out, indicating that he got you to squirt a tad bit, “Yeah, baby. That’s it.” Colby groans as his fingers curl, “Can you do it again for me?”

His lips attach to your clit and you let out a louder moan, whimpering as he gets you to squirt for him again.

“So fuckin’ hot.” He withdrawals his fingers, moving to stand up as he looks over you, “you’re worth breaking my rules for.”

You smile weakly at his words, opening your eyes to lock them on his. You reach up, whimpering as you motion for him to come to you.

He hovers his body over yours, brushing hair from your face. You can see his chin glisten in what little light that’s illuminating the room.

His lips crash onto yours and you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

His cock, that’s pressing teasingly against your pussy, starts to enter and you gasp as he continues to slide fully in.

“Colby.” Your voice is barely there, “Fuck.”

“You are incredible.” He presses a kiss to your forehead before leaning up. His hand lays on your throat, fingers hooking over your bottom row of teeth, “You look incredible like this.”

Your tongue runs over his fingers and he moves his hand so you can wrap your lips around them. Sucking as he slowly pulls out and thrusts back in.

“Rough, Colby.”

And with that, it wasn’t long until you’re flipped over, bent over with your ass in the air and chest pressed against the bed.

His hands tightly gripping your hips as you’re desperately clinging onto the blanket, knuckles white from holding so tight.

His thrusts are punishing. Hard, and fast.

“S-so close.” You moan out loudly, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You push your hips back the best you can and Colby leans down, sliding his hand into your hair to lift your head.

His nose rubs the side of your face, “How close?”

“There.. almost there.” Your brain was foggy. You felt like you couldn’t comprehend words.

Colby had you a mess.

An absolute mess.

His hand moves from your hair, sliding around your throat. His thumb gently caresses your face before moving his hand further down to squeeze.

You squeak at the sudden loss of air, trying to moan but nothing is coming out.

Your vision goes black as you feel yourself squeeze his cock and release it as you cum.

He fucks you through your high, moaning lowly in your ear about how much of a good girl you’re being for him.

“Such a good fucking girl.” His lips drag back your cheek and his teeth sink into the lobe of your ear, “Taking me so fucking well.”

His hand releases your throat and you gasp, breathing heavy as you cheek and chest rest against the bed. You reach behind you, looking for his hand.

He grabs your wrist, pinning it down against your lower back, groaning as his thrusts grow sloppy, “Fuck.. where do you want me, y/n?”

In a breath, “Anywhere.”

“Say no more.” He smirks and bites his lip, tilting his head back as he gives you a few more thrusts before they turn sloppy.

He pushes his cock fully into you, moaning as he feels himself spill deep inside of you. He lets go of your hand, gently massaging your hips as he pulls out.

Your body falls onto the bed, collapsing from the exhaustion.

Colby lays next to you, brushes hair from your face with a smile, “You alright?”

You nod weakly, “I’m very alright.” You smile, sliding a hand over to lay on his chest, “Do you still want me to pay for my weed?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “No.” he brings your hand to his lips, kissing gently, “this payment has been accepted.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

YALL I love this. As always, let me know how you liked it!

Likes and reblogs all very appreciated!

Love you all! 🖤

883 notes · View notes

slutforsilverfoxes · 9 months

Text

Y’all ate this Hotch x BAU!reader imagine up 👀 Who am I to deny you more when asked so nicely? 🖤

Things remain strictly professional while the case is ongoing, your team and the Seattle division’s sole focus on catching the unsub. But once your resident bad guy gets his one way ticket to a life sentence, Aaron’s former colleague insists on celebrating over drinks…

“I can’t believe you completed the triathlon!” Agent Brandt exclaims with a laugh, her hand coming to rest on Aaron’s arm. From her spot in the booth opposite to you, JJ nudges your leg under the table. Your gaze cuts to hers, and you resist the urge to mime gagging yourself on your straw. Instead, you use it to suck up the last of your second mojito. There are a few appreciative titters around the table and Brandt soldiers on, “Who would’ve thought our nerdy prosecutor turned agent would do something so athletic?”

“Make no mistake, the nerd is still hiding underneath these muscles,” you chime in with a coy smile, the mix of jealousy and rum swimming in your veins giving you the push to overtly squeeze your husband’s bicep for good measure.

Aaron pointedly clears his throat and directs a frown towards Emily whose cellphone camera has made an appearance just over the lip of the table to no doubt document the scene unfolding for Penelope’s benefit. “All the credit goes to my partner here,” he says rather smoothly before draping his arm across your shoulders.

“Oh wow,” Brandt says through a tight-lipped smile, “you did it, too?”

“Sure did,” you respond cheerily while using your straw to swirl the mint leaves around the bottom of your empty glass. Aaron can hear the mischief building in your tone and he pinches your side half-heartedly in warning, but you quietly smack his hand away and continue, “Gotta stay in shape to fight off all the soccer moms vying for this guy’s attention at Jack’s games.” You allow yourself to relish in the flash of recognition in Brandt’s eyes before she slowly retracts her hand from your husband’s arm.

“Goodness,” she laughs and has the grace to blush at her earlier conduct. You feel a twinge of guilt until Aaron’s former colleague looks at him and says, “I didn’t realize you had a girlfriend.”

Derek covers up his laugh with a cough, and Emily mouths a delighted uh oh. Aaron turns to you with a silent plea in his eyes to let the comment go, but your lips are already twisting into a, “Me neither, babe.”

“She’s just teasing,” your husband is quick to soothe all parties’ ruffled feathers as his colleague’s blush grows a shade darker and she studiously avoids making eye contact with you. “We’ve been married for a few years now.”

“And what a wonderful few years it’s been seeing the two of you grow together,” the eldest member of your team adds with a sense of finality. You flash a grateful smile at Dave, and the conversation takes on a more lighthearted tone over the next and final round of drinks.

—————

On the jet back home the next day…

Your novel tumbling out of your hands and onto the floor of the jet has you jolting awake, and Aaron shoots upright in his seat across from you. A quick glance around reveals the rest of the team suspiciously engrossed in their respective activities- Derek’s listening to his post-case playlist, Spencer’s reading yet another book that’s above your pay grade, Emily and Dave are sharing sections of the New York Times, and JJ’s on her phone, likely texting Will- but the fact that no one so much as bats an eye at the startling noise tells you everything you need to know. It doesn’t take a profiler to understand why you and your husband just can’t seem to stay awake on the early morning flight.

In answer to their unspoken question, you offer, “Didn’t sleep well last night,” by way of an explanation, fighting the blush threatening to creep across your guilty cheeks.

With a click of his teeth, Derek laughs out, “My man,” and Emily pipes up, “We’ll chalk it up to a hangover.”

“Behave, all of you,” Aaron counsels in an utterly non-threatening monotone, his voice still thick with sleep. He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes to scold them, just crosses his hands over his chest and settles back in his seat to get some much needed rest. The corner of his mouth ticks upward for the briefest of moments before his features fall back into their emotionless state.

You tap his ankle with your foot and one eye cracks open to find you smirking at him. “I saw that.”

“Get some sleep, Agent Y/L/N,” he orders in lieu of addressing being caught.

Tugging Aaron’s suit jacket higher up on your body, you dutifully close your eyes and hunker down under your makeshift blanket. Already drifting back off to sleep, you murmur, “That’s Agent Hotchner to you, mister.”

Aaron’s answering smile could rival the sun itself.

—————

[A/N: Idk if I like this 🙃 But then again, I go through these mental gymnastics every time I post my writing on here]

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

2K notes · View notes

half-bakedboy · 17 days

Note

Prompt #64 or #100 for Kinley, maybe while they’re cooking together? 👀

64. “Did you just grab my ass?”

Tommy’s not used to guys who can cook. He’s used to dinners out mostly, sometimes takeout at his place when food wasn’t exactly the focus of the night, but he honestly can’t remember the last time someone cooked for him.

So when he walks into Evan’s house with a hungry stomach—as requested—he’s not expecting to smell something so delicious. He figures Evan just got hungry earlier than intended and ordered food without him, but when he turns the corner into the kitchen, Evan is standing at the counter.

He’s chopping what Tommy thinks are potatoes while chicken sears in the pan beside him. There’s a pot of boiling water that he’s tossing slices into haphazardly like the spit of water doesn’t bother him in the slightest. There’s a bottle of wine breathing on the opposite counter and an unlit candle on the small dining room table. Tommy tosses his keys onto it, hoping the noise might jar Evan from his focus, but still, he doesn’t move.

Tommy notices then that Evan’s also got buds in his ears that are likely playing some ridiculous pop music if the sway of his hips indicates the rhythm. Tommy has to press his lips together to silence his laughter at the sight. Evan’s chopping, throwing, and flipping all to a rhythm Tommy can’t see, but he’s humming something familiar that Tommy can’t quite place.

God, he’s smitten. It’s the only word he can think of to describe the way his stomach flips when Evan shimmies his shirtless shoulders and wiggles his hips in quick succession. Tommy doesn’t even think twice before sneaking around the kitchen island until his chest is almost pressed against Evan’s back.

Before Evan even notices he’s there, Tommy slides his hands down Evan’s ass, grabbing a handful of the muscle just because he can. Evan squeaks, almost knocking over the pot of hot water in surprise, but Tommy has both hands wrapped around his waist to pull him away from danger before tragedy strikes. He laughs and the second the sound leaves his mouth, he feels Evan relax back into him.

“Did you really just grab my ass?” Evan mutters.

Tommy hums in agreement and presses a kiss to Evan’s neck. Evan drops the knife in his hand and tries to step away, but Tommy stays plastered to his back, hands guiding his hips to the sway of an imaginary beat. Evan chuckles, leaning his head back against Tommy’s shoulder for a moment.

“Are you going to let me finish dinner?” Evan asks.

Tommy shakes his head and presses his palm flat against Evan’s stomach, the other reaching across to spin Evan around as quickly—and safely—as possible. He crowds Evan against the counter behind him, capturing his mouth in a kiss before Evan can ask another question.

Evan tastes like a perfect blend of cooking spices—which bodes well for the meal Tommy might let him finish—and the natural sweetness he attributes to Evan and Evan alone. Kissing Evan warms his stomach like downing a glass of whiskey before biting into the cherry garnish. Evan’s almost as addicting as the drink itself, and Tommy can’t believe he gets to drink Evan down whenever he wants.

Tommy groans when Evan pushes him away with a laugh.

“The chicken is going to burn and the potatoes are going to get mushy,” Evan tells him.

“Well, we can’t have mushy potatoes, can we?” Tommy agrees.

Evan pulls him in for one more kiss before nudging him out of the kitchen with an order to get comfortable and ready to eat. Tommy has no idea how he got so lucky, but he’s definitely not going to question it, not when Evan keeps welcoming him like that.

(also on ao3)

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 #911 spoilers #911 on abc #911 fics #bucktommy fics #anonymous #answered #i loved this one asdlkjf;alsd #tommy pov is so fun 🥺

290 notes · View notes

periprose · 6 months

Note

Heyyy I’m literally playing through ps4 Spider-Man again 🤣!

I was wondering if I could request a ps4 fic, maybe Peter and reader have been dating for a while, and she gets hurt during the explosion and he can’t find her but she’s with may at feast with like a broken arm or something?? (She knows he’s Spider-Man) 👀🫶🏼

hey lol thanks for requesting! I'm on the first playthrough of the game myself. Basically this is set during the explosion at the election event in the game, and Peter and you are there to proudly watch Officer Davis accept his award.

"Hey." Peter comes up from behind you on the sidewalk, fixing wrinkles in his civilian clothes. He must've just changed.

"Hey, Parker." You nudge him. "Ready to go watch Osborn smooch up to the well-meaning audience of Manhattan?"

"Well, ready as I'll ever be." Peter takes your hand. "I'm really just there to watch Davis get his well-deserving award, y'know. Hey, didn't I tell you to stop calling me Parker?"

"Meh, you love it." You joke. "You'll always be Parker to me, even if you are my boyfriend now. It's our thing."

Peter shakes his head, but you know based on his little smile- he loves that you have a little thing just for him.

Together, you walk to the intersection in front of City Hall, where many people crowd around, waiting for Mayor Osborn and whatever speech he's about to give today. They're all dressed in Osborn themed merchandise, cheering and clapping.

You can't believe this many people care about Osborn's so-called promises to the city- you and Peter are really hoping he won't be re-elected this term after all- but people are clapping for him, and you sigh knowing that your cost of living is about to go up.

"Hey. Wipe that frown off your face. We're here to be supportive." Peter whispers from next to you in the crowd, and you nod.

"Where's Davis? Is that him?" You whisper back, pointing to an older black man up on the stage.

"Yup. You wouldn't believe it, he was so helpful in Hell's Kitchen. Dude whipped out his gun and had my back like we've been best buds for years." Peter smiles. "There's not many out there doing it like him."

"He sounds like a real treasure. I'm glad you have someone on your side." You squeeze Peter's hand, and continue to look up towards the stage in mild excitement.

You don't really care for Osborn's speech- Peter laughs about his promise to open up technology for NYC when you both know that's reserved for the elite- but you both grin when Davis, looking nervous as ever, walks up the stage to receive his award.

"It is my privilege to present Officer Jefferson Davis with the Department Medal of Honour." Osborn hangs a medal around Davis' neck, and you and Peter clap.

"I'm so glad this is all over. The gang war, I think." Peter whispers to you, and you raise your eyebrows.

"Really? Does this mean you'll finally be a little safer?" You ask, but Peter frowns a little.

"Well, there's some loose ends still to be tied up, but-"

"Loose ends?" You give him a wary glance. "Like what?"

"Like whatever 'Consolidated Shipping' is. It doesn't make sense." Peter sighs, watching concern grow on your face. "It's not right, but I'll figure it out."

Davis says a few words- he thanks his wife and his son, Miles, who you can see is sitting up at the front of the stage.

"Aw, cute kid." You remark to Peter, and he nods, gaining a slightly sheepish smile.

"Officer Davis did say I remind him of his son. I'll take it as a compliment." Peter jokes, and you snicker, calling him even more of a baby.

Behind you, Sable guards are talking on their walkie talkies about "keeping eyes on Osborn," which to you sounds as if they perceive a threat. You turn back to tell Peter, when he suddenly flinches.

"Peter-?"

He grabs his head, panicking- you watch as his pupils dilate, and he's clearly in some kind of shock.

"Everything feels off-" Peter flinches again, and you know he's having a Spider-Sense meltdown. There must be multiple things happening at once- even worse, you're not sure what he's supposed to do in this situation. He's not suited up, and he risks revealing his identity if he does anything.

Either way, Peter runs behind you. He shoves people out of the way, trying to get to the back of the event, behind the audience, but he's not fast enough. There are men arriving out of cars- corrupted men, turning that strange grey-blue-transparent hue that confirms their connection with Martin Li.

Peter runs- he dashes- but you see him flinch again, cowering under such threatening energy. He turns to the stage in horror, and you gasp in shock.

There's another corrupted on stage, covered in explosive devices.

An explosion goes off behind you, to the right of you, than another massive one on stage- the ground shakes beneath you, and you're too in shock to move.

"Get down!" Peter shoves you back, attempting to push you out of the way, just as another two explosions cause the earth under you to rattle, and you lose your footing and fall back on the pavement. You twist your arm unnaturally and hit your head.

You black out, the last thing you see being massive blue-black explosions in the sky.

Peter wakes to floating ash in the sky.

He coughs- there's a sharp pain in his right side, and a slight ache at the top of his hairline- he touches his forehead and pulls his fingers away to see brown-red, dry blood.

It doesn't matter. He'll heal faster than most, anyways- he needs to locate you.

He gets up, seizes a little due to the pain- and to his alarm, you're nowhere in his near sight. He walks around seeing Sable guards help people off the streets- although Peter really thinks they're poking and prodding and shoving them away, so they can clean up the mess around here.

He hopes you haven't been taken away by Sable guards.

Peter rushes to the nearest clinic- but there's too many people crowding around there with their injuries, and the receptionist at the emergency room tells him there's no one by your name here.

He begins to panic. You're not responding to his calls, either. Peter doesn't want to believe the worst could've happened to you, but he does hear people talking on the streets about the casualties. Apparently at least 10 people have been found dead so far- Peter starts swearing under his breath.

He decides to head to FEAST- he's not sure if you'll be there, but it's better to ask Aunt May or some of the volunteers if you've been seen. FEAST also operates as an emergency medical clinic, too, even with limited supplies, and it's with this small amount of hope that Peter travels there.

Pushing through the doors, the front desk woman- Amanda- she's startled by how intensely Peter asks about you.

"I don't know, Peter." She points to the main auditorium, where many homeless and injured people are currently being attended to. "It's kind of an open house back here- you're going to have to look through the crowds."

Peter sighs. "Thanks, Amanda."

It takes him about fifteen minutes to do a full, quick walkthrough. The entire time, his heartbeat thumps faster as he realizes- he's not seeing you anywhere. There's nobody wearing your trademark scarf, your usual dark blue jeans- nobody with your fastidious expression, where you always seem to take in the entire world before speaking- nobody to relieve the steady ache in his heart.

Peter walks into the room full of medical supplies, expecting to see Aunt May- and while May is there, busy with another volunteer, the first thing he sees is you, with your hair all disheveled and messy, bruises on your cheek and a cut under your lip, and your arm wrapped in a cast and a sling.

But you have a soft, comforting smile. You're kneeling down to help a little girl- she can't be older than five- and you're placing a bandage on her knee. And the little girl squeals, hugging you after you say "It's all better now."

Peter would agree with that.

You look up, arms still embraced around the little girl- Rina is her name- to see Peter, looking wistful, sad, a clear lump in his throat. His eyes are watery.

"Peter?" You watch as he comes forward.

"I thought you were- I thought..." He wipes his eyes. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Well, Little Rina over here needed a little bit of medical attention." You kindly tap her shoulder and she nods up at Peter, smiling. "She tripped and fell and no one was paying attention to her knee, so I decided to help her."

"That's..." Peter trails off, wondering how you could be so selfless when your own face was looking a bit worse for wear. "That's sweet of you to do. How do you feel, kiddo?"

He kneels towards her, and she grins really big. "Better!"

"Alright, high five then." Peter high fives her, and she dashes off afterwards, most likely looking for the parent she came with.

"Why didn't you respond to my calls?" Peter asks you as soon as you turn back to him. "I thought... I thought the worst had happened-"

"Peter, please. Stop with the wounded ego." May calls him out, listening from the sidelines. "What's important is that she's safe and in one piece- that's more than enough to feel grateful about."

Peter looks down, ashamed. He knows May is right, and he has to swallow his pride for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Peter." You grasp his hand, and he looks back at you, jaw tight as he listens. "I didn't mean to not answer your calls- my phone got shattered. And I didn't know where to find you after I woke up- I was already being taken away by Sable guards to 'safety' and then I decided my best chance to find you was over here."

"Oh." Peter feels kind of dumb, but he also feels glad you think of FEAST as a spot to find him. "I should've kept you safe."

"Don't. Don't make yourself crazy with what you could've done." You plead with him, and he sighs but shakes his head. "My arm will heal with time. I guess I landed on it weirdly and broke it."

Peter winces. "Well, you can always ask me for help if it bothers you. I'm there for you."

He traces your lip, where the cut under is still a red-brown, harsh hue in comparison to the pink of your bottom lip, and May takes this as her cue to leave.

Peter snorts. "I wish you had my-"

"Super healing? Yeah, I wish that too." You laugh. "Were you lucky enough to not get hit, or did you just heal on the way here?"

Peter's reaching for a facial bandage and some rubbing alcohol. "The latter."

"Ugh, lucky bastard." You smile up at him, cringing only slightly as Peter rubs away the blood from your wound. "I'm just glad that means I don't have to worry too much about you."

"You still do." Peter remarks, placing the bandage on your face. "But that just means you love me."

And, being ever so thankful that you're safely back in his arms, Peter places a soft kiss on your forehead, and then a slightly-less-soft one on your mouth, hoping it doesn't hurt you, but happy that you kiss him back anyways.

512 notes · View notes

getitoutofmymindwrites · 4 days

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dividers by @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics @plum98

previous |

FOUR YEARS AFTER THE FALL

Are you still falling?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time has intensified and lessened your emotional burden simultaneously.

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

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

Then you remember.

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

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

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

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

Good, yeah, that’s it. That’s it.

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

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

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

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

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I didn’t.” Joel agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You mean about the therapy?”

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

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

“For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? What did she say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I ripped that from you.”

“You did.”

“In the worst possible way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are utterly, completely, perfectly shocked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

..she made me feel wanted..

..a boost to my ego..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you agree to the Terms & Conditions?

Press ‘Enter.’

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

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

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you certainly delivered.

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

“I can’t do this-”

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

“-tonight.”

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

“Maybe another time, but not tonight.”

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

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

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

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

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

Is it all right if I come and see you?

Backspacebackspacebackspace

Is it OK if I come and talk?

And the answer was

Not today.

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

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

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

Can we talk?

Yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.” you laugh nervously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

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

Joel looks at you perplexed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let me in, better angry than scared.

Better angry than scared.

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

You let him, because you are a weak person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your point?”

“Why did you do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you insist?”

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

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

“I didn’t want you to.”

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

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

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

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

Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Him.

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

“The week I was gone?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Ridiculous..”

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand..”

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

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

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

His hands are shaking.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” Loud and clear as daylight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

He seems lighter, too.

“Maybe, one day..?”

“Yeah.. Maybe, one day..”

previous |

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

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

@sofiparallel

338 notes · View notes

ma1dita · 17 days

Note

I need a pt 2 to the Luke and long distance!gf PLEASEEEEE

mdni

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

pt 1 here

a/n: man... getting out of my writing rut so here's this filth. sexting. kinda public. luke cums in his pants. what a loser

wc: 780

*bzzz*

Luke’s phone buzzes for the third time in a row in his Financial Marketing lecture today. The notification shakes his phone against the wood of the table to the point that it’s bugging the hell out of Chris who’s locked into whatever the professor’s saying—but as soon as Luke sees your name flash across the slightly cracked screen of his iPhone, he drops his pen in favor of you. His brother rolls his eyes, slumping further into his seat head lolling against his arm. There’s a smile that immediately settles upon Luke’s cheeks at the thought of you.

“baby 🤭 you busy?”

“why are you not answering you don’t even like this class anyway”

“fine ig i’ll ask someone else for their opinion 🤷🏻‍♀️”

He chuckles lowly as he types out a reply, “opinion on what babe 👀” and Chris nudges his arm with a nod to ask if everything’s good. The professor drones on in the background about the stock market and for once, Luke is glad that Hermes gave him the ability to skate through his Econ degree (the only think he’ll be grateful to his absent father for), because it gives him more time to focus on more important things, like the slew of images of you trying on bikinis that infiltrate his phone.

[5 Image attachments]

“oops sorry! guess i sent them to the wrong person”

He gulps almost comically, shifting in his seat as he saves them for later. Shifty eyes and quick fingers can only do so much in a crowded lecture hall. But you see that his read receipts are on, and frankly the lack of a response is irritating when you’re pulling your best poses in the comfort of your living room. Boys never get how much effort it takes to be sexy.

“damn. guess i’ll go find a new boyfriend who can appreciate all of this”

Luke sighs, half stifled by is need to see you bare and his spit going down the wrong pipe that he clears his throat loudly, trying to ignore his jeans tightening by the second. Licking his lips, he clicks on the presentation slides, trying to catch up to where the professor is after your very welcome distractions.

[Image attachment]

He presses the ‘next’ button just as another iMessage notification pops up on his screen, trigger finger clicking open an image of your tits pressed between your fingers, nipples taut against the fabric and lips between your teeth—all shiny soft skin almost bursting through the flimsy top that’s loosening and almost vivid through the still image. If there’s more, he thinks he’s seeing stars.

Luke slams his laptop shut and it echoes.

He takes a deep breath trying to remember what year it is.

“You good bro?”

Chris mumbles with a furrowed brow, watching sweat glisten against Luke’s flushed cheeks.

“Not feeling well. Think I’m gonna head out. Send me notes later?”

It’s almost an inside joke between the two of them, but Luke laughs a little too hard trying to play it off. He shoves his laptop into his backpack, before slowly weaving through the row and hoping no one noticed his girlfriend’s tits on the blown up screen of his Macbook. But then again, something’s obviously off as he walks stiffly towards the exit, feet swift with no predetermined destination. Luke contemplates the probability of someone interrupting him in the hall bathroom if he goes there to rub one out. His dick is hard and weepy, frustration brimming at the seams of his resolve when he walks out of the lecture hall. Readjusting himself into his waistband and groaning at the pressure, Luke wonders if he can walk home fast enough.

[Video attachment]

He stops in his tracks as he opens your message, the sound of your moans and slick movements of your fingers buried under the damp bottoms of your bikini almost too loud in his Airpods. His dark brown eyes trace the movements of your swiveling hips on his screen and he leans against the wall to groan lowly, a pathetic noise clawing up his throat, until his mouth dries at the sight of you parting the fabric aside just in time for him to watch you cum hard, soaking the rest of your hand and the leather of the couch beneath your ass. Luke doesn’t realize his body’s unprompted decision to join your release until he feels a sticky, uncomfortable warmth pool against the bottom of his shirt, soiled beyond belief.

His head of curls bangs against the wall behind him as he moans.

*bzzz*

A lopsided grin forms on his face when his phone buzzes again in his hand.

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #made by ma1dita ♥︎

372 notes · View notes

blushedfemme · 18 days

Text

things butches & studs do that make me swoon

(not an exhaustive list)

when we’re walking together and they gently nudge me to the inside of the sidewalk, making sure they’re on the side closest to the road

when they shake water out of their hair after swimming

when they talk in cute/goofy voices to their pets

when i get to watch them style or cut their own hair

when they put a hand on my back to guide me through a crowded area or move me out of harm’s way

when they push their glasses up their nose or wipe their glasses on their shirt

when they put their head in my lap

when they lift their arms to grab something and their shirt rides up 😵‍💫

when they’re good with kids 🥺

when they check in with me, ask if i’m okay

when they infodump about a super niche and nerdy subject

when they give me a small trinket or a leaf or a pretty rock

when they recommend a song they think i’d like

when they wear belts……… 👀

when they’re driving and they do the ‘looking over their shoulder and grabbing the shotgun seat’ thing while backing up

when they speak more than one language

when they hook their thumbs in their pockets or the waistband of their pants

when they keep their fingernails so short and clean and neat

when they breathe 😩

#blushing #butchfemme #femme4butch #femme4stud #sfw post #if anyone wants to add on in tags or reblogs pls do <3

302 notes · View notes

blingblong55 · 6 months

Text

My Darling -Simon 'Ghost' Riley NSFW

^@ave661 mother fed me baby fever again...lover her though

Based on a request:

Heyyy!! How you doin?!... I hope you're doing well with every thing in your life and I with you the best so I wanted to ask about that kinktober thing👀 would you please write 5,21,22 for ghost?? (breeding, praise and after care I guess) I truly admire your writing(kicking my legs in the feet and screaming quietly😭😭😭) so I think that I don't need to talk about the scenario and I really need this😭💖 thank you~ _____ F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, breeding!kink, praise, aftercare, P-in-V, unprotected!sex, established!relationship _____

A/N: I just know this man makes love to his little darling when he wants to be soft and cute with her...

"Oh, what a good girl," he grins as you take his cock in your mouth, he pushes himself deeper into your throat, your eyes teary as he keeps you there for a moment. "Look at me my love," he whispers. Your gaze on him, his cock making you gag and then he pulls your head back, and you gasp for air. "Oh, my darling, doing so good," he leans forward and kisses you. His big arms bring you up, carrying you to his bed. The way his arms wrapped around you so protectively, it made you want him more. He lays you down on the bed and kisses you, getting on top of you as his lips stay on you. His hands were on your delicate face, bodies intertwined.

You pull away from his kiss only to have him sit down on the bed and bring you onto his lap. "Simon-" He cuts you off and kisses the tip of your nose. His free hand is on your face as the other rests on your thigh. "Such a good girl," he chuckles when you let him move you around. "I regret telling you about my kinks," you nudge him. "Oh you don't," he grins and nuzzles into your neck. "Good girl~" he whispers. You can't help but blush. "Such a good little slut for me," his lips on your neck, kissing the same spot he had many times claimed as his favourite place.

Your chest to his, one of his hands supporting your back, the other making sure his cock was sliding into you. You look at him, eyes almost closing as his fat cock slips inside your tight cunt. You whimper, biting your lip down only to have his fingers pull on your lips. "C'mon, focus on me, R/N." His voice is so soft like a plea for you only to hear. As he kisses you, his arms wrap around your body, keeping it warm and comfortable. "I won't let go, just trust me." He reassures you when he sees how hesitant you are. His balls slapped against you with each of his thrusts. Your hands are on his shoulders, holding onto him.

His lips on you, never leaving them when in between kisses he whispers sweet nothings and promises for the future. His gaze is on you, a hand on your tummy when he whispers, "I'll pump you full of my kids." Another promise for the future. His fat cock parting your lips, you cry in pleasure and as he groans or grunts he kisses you. "You'll be so beautiful when you're all chubby with my babies, that beautiful belly of yours, carrying my kids," he kisses you again. Your body pressed against him tight. You, the key to his heaven. "I love you," he reminds you, his cock twitching as he paints your walls white. He moans, kisses your shoulder and lets his cum drip from you. You both panting, holding the other with care.

His forehead resting on yours, "God, you're such a beauty." Both of you catching your breath. He kisses your hands that rest on his chest. From your hand to your shoulder, he kissed and repeated in whispers, "I love you, I really love you," it was like a soft reminder of the words you so needed to believe. He kisses your neck and jaw, "To the moon and back," he whispers. You smile and brush your hands on his hair. He hums, "Hmm, just like that," he whispers and leans into your touch. He reaches for a towel and wipes the sweat, and tears from your pretty face. "I love you too, Simon," your stare so soft, so full of love for a man who swore no one would love him.

And he knew he knew best to trust the sweet melody of your voice when you spoke the words all poets died writing. His hands caressing your delicate face. Like all songs about real love, the struggles, the sex and the tears, he wandered to you like a bluebird to a princess, his princess. He lays you back down, massages your body and lays beside you. His eyes never leave you as for the first time in his life he made real love to the woman of his dreams. All other times, it was sex for what sex is, two people, one bed. The art of making love is magical, two lovers, one bed, two lips, two hearts and one home.

Your eyes closed as you sighed, sheets over both your bodies, he smiled, staring at the ceiling. A wish a young soldier made many moons ago, now coming true. "I love you," you repeat, an oath to the gods of the sun and moon. "I love you more," he whispers back, another oath to the gods of love and war. "My only girl," he holds you tight.

A/N: this is what happens when Niall Horan plays as I write smut...

Tags: @liyanahelena @simpxxslutxx @idkwtftitbh @sevvygirl1995 @actuallyhiswife @aghast-victorian-noble @linhkhanh97 @paracosmparadise @undercover-smutlover @idesofarch @magpiemoon6 @pseudophyllus @abeltesfayefangirl

1K notes · View notes

diejager · 6 days

Note

may i ask stalker!simon taking advantage of his sweetheart with a gun? 👀

Stalker!Simon, hmmmmm :)

Surprise Visit

Pairing: Stalker!Ghost x reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, stalking, gun, obsession, rough oral sex, blowjob, face fucking, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1k

You’ve walked this path multiple times, every night and every morning, over and over again. You knew this path like the palm of your hand, having taken it all your life. Granted, you had changed street from time to time for a change of normalcy, but it was always the same block or side of the city you took to get to and fro work and home. You were comfortable with your little life, slightly bored by how inactive you were, but you wouldn’t trade it for any kind of trouble.

So it was a surprise - was it truly? You’d grown so comfortable that you stopped keeping your guard up - when you were toughly pushed into your apartment the moment your locked clicked open. You tumbled in, eyes widened and ready to scream out for help, when the man covered your mouth, pressing his weight on yours. You shook, fearfully breathing through your nose as the door closed behind you, your only escape blocked by a heavy mass over you, hand clamped around your cheeks and holding you down.

You hear him shush you, a deep, baritone voice that cooed at your teary eyes, his small praises at your frightful expression. His words dripped with adoration, a sickly and dark affection that made your skin crawl. You should have looked before opening your door. You should have been more caution in a world where both men and women prowled to attack one another, those disgusting and desperate ones that would do anything to get a taste. If he wanted money, you’d give it all to him, you valued your life more than—

“Stay quiet for me, love, ” he rasped, his hot breath hitting your ear, feeling your side before he slipped a hand under his jacket, “Behave, yeah?”

He pulled a gun, the dreadful click of the safety acting as a warning to you, a deterrent to stop you from acting out —from misbehaving. He cocked his gun rather than repeating his words and you nodded hastily, or as best as you could with his bruising grip on your face. He turned you around and peered down at you from his crooked nose, his dark chocolate eyes seemed almost black, a devouring pit that drew your eyes to his. Gun pointed at your head, he motioned you to your knees, kneeling between his spread legs, running his other hand through your mess of locks.

“Good girl, ” he groaned, pulling you to face his growing bulge, his cock tenting the seams of his pants. He ground against your lips, rutting your face with low huffs and pants, hissing when your nose nudged it, “Pull my cock out.”

You swallowed down your hesitance when you caught the red gleam in his eyes, shaky hands palming his jeans for the zipper, pulling his pants down his hips and watched the wet patch growing on his grey briefs. He grunted at your slow pace, impatiently pressing the muzzle to your temple and only loosening his hold on your hair when he cock bounced out, the heaviness of it making his length hang between his thighs.

“Suck.”

Having no choice, you licked your dried lips to ease your anxiety, wrapping them around his leaky tip and running your tongue over his slit, tasting the salty tang of his pre. Your stomach rolled in disgust, the threat of food and stomach acid running up your throat screaming louder in your mind. Willing yourself to finish this quickly, hoping he’d leave after you gave… gave him a blowjob, you sunk further down his length. Staring up at his masked face, locked between his legs with his skull-painted mask and dangerous eyes.

He was thick and veiny, the burn of it’s throb churning your stomach as you took in more and more until you almost choked. He huffed at your inability to take more than half of him, narrowing his eyes at the tears running down your cheeks when he abruptly thrust down your throat, head thrown back at your choke, throat swallowing around his twitching head.

“Fuck, ” a low moan slipped from his tongue, his hips moving back and forth, taking in your desperate cries and gagging while he took from you, “Always knew you had a hot mouth. Bloody tight.”

You could hardly breathe with the rough drive of his hips, ramming his cock so deeply that you could taste him on the back of your throat and in your guts. You could fight and struggle, but wouldn’t be able to stop him, to escape his treatment or run away when he had a hard grip on your head, a gun in his hand and blocked the door. All you could do was cry and take it, appease him in hopes that he wouldn’t kill you if he was satisfied.

And it seemed he was, taking such a liking to your tear-streaked face, swollen lips wrapped around the girth of his cock and nose buried in his messy bush while he took and took, bartering your throat until it’d bruised. He came down your throats with a few more thrusts, staring you down his nose while he slipped as deep as he could. You choked on his heady cum, roped spurting from the tip and filled your stomach with an uncomfortable amount, it was hot and bitter, and there were so, so much that it spilled from your lips, dripping down your chin and staining jeans.

You gasped when he pulled out, somewhat happy that you had swallowed his cum. You cough and sputtered, folded at his feet as you sobbed, babbling pleas to be let off now that you’d fulfilled his sick fantasy. He only crouched down, running his hands through your hair like he wanted to comfort you, tenderly petting you for the favour you did.

“You did good, love, ” he praised, a chuckle rumbling off his shoulder, proud and gleeful. He even put his gun away, “This stays between us, understood? You can keep our little secret, yeah, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes, ” you rasped, signing your soul away to the devil in a balaclava.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #mw2 smut #simon riley x reader #stalker!ghost #dark cod #tw: dark content #dark content #dead dove do not eat #tw: dub con #tw: non con #mw2 ghost #ghost smut #ghost x reader

318 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

spxcejuice

Space's Art Sideblog!

dashingdad

Goodbye, Rosemary.

pizzaaeater

Una persona más.

cutie-chimera

Don't say whordiot, we hate that.

kjshcj

❀ KJ · 신화창조 ❀